His lungs burned.
His vision began to blur.
Above, the surface of the water smoothed into a pane of tinted glass. Beyond it, the man’s face contorted into a feral grin.
And then, suddenly, it changed. The amusement sloughed away, leaving only a slack horror. A few fresh drops of blood dripped and bloomed on the surface before Rhy’s failing sight, and then the man tipped forward, falling facedown into the bath. As he did, the hold on Rhy’s limbs disappeared, and he surged up out of the water, gasping for air.
He looked down at the body now floating beside him, saw the knife buried in his back, and then looked up to find Alucard Emery, who stood at the edge of the bath, wearing nothing but an open robe.
“What in the absolute fuck,” said the king’s shadow, the king’s heart, blazing with anger. Rhy only sighed, and waded to the edge of the bath, and climbed out.
Alucard marched over to the pile of clothes and flung him his robe.
“Where were your servants?” he snapped as Rhy pulled the fabric around his shoulders. Blood still wept from the wound in his chest, but it was already healing.
“I wanted to be alone,” said Rhy, sinking onto a bench at the edge of the room.
“And the guards?” demanded Alucard. “Why the saints would you banish them?”
He said nothing, only met Alucard’s gaze. Alucard, the one person who never looked away just because he was king, who had always been able to read him like a book.
“Dammit, Rhy—”
“I didn’t want them to get hurt.”
“That’s what they’re for!” roared Alucard.
Rhy shot him a dark look, and gestured down at the weeping cut between his ribs, the one that would have killed any other man. “I will not have them die when I cannot.”
Alucard let out an exhausted breath. It was an argument they’d had a dozen times over the last few years. He looked down at the body in the water, and frowned. “He looks familiar.”
“He is. I hired him last week.”
Alucard threw up his hands. “Of course you did. Never mind the protocols. You know, the ones put in place for the sole purpose of keeping this family safe.”
As if that wasn’t exactly what Rhy was trying to do. He looked at the killer’s body and sighed. The whole idea had been to take the Hand alive, for questioning. He drew a deep breath, and winced. He spit a mouthful of blood onto the tile. He was beginning to think his night couldn’t get much worse. Then, one of the rings on his right hand began to glow. The red one. Of course.
“Damn,” muttered Rhy.
“Oh, you thought he wouldn’t notice?” chided Alucard.
The king stared at the ring for a long moment, watching it grow brighter, until the light of the magic filled the room, casting the killer’s body and the bloody bath in grim relief.
“Go on,” insisted Alucard with troubling glee. “I can’t wait to see Kell’s face.”
Rhy didn’t need to see it. He could picture the expression well enough. He was still looking at the ring, wondering if he really had to answer, when Alucard walked up, snatched the red band off his finger, and stormed out into the hall.
* * *
One minute Kell had felt like he was drowning, and the next, the grip on his lungs was gone, the air flooding back into his chest. By the time he was on his feet, Lila was holding out the crimson ring. Kell grabbed it, and stormed past her.
There was only one scrying table aboard the Barron, a polished black basin in the captain’s quarters.
“As vera tan,” he said, activating the spell as he surged into Lila’s room.
The scrying table sat in the corner. Lila had clearly been using it as a hamper, several articles of clothing piled on top. He swept them all away and pressed the ring to the black stone table, and waited. For several agonizing moments, no answer came. Kell saw only his own mottled reflection, face pale, eyes wide in pain and worry and anger, in the darkened surface. Then the black pane flickered and was replaced by a face Kell knew, and loathed.
Alucard Emery stood in the palace war room, wearing nothing but an open velvet robe, and Kell was very glad the image ended at the table.
“Where is he?” he demanded, and for once, the royal consort wasn’t oozing his usual self-pleasure. He looked exasperated. Annoyed.
“Oh, your brother? I left him with the body of the assassin he invited into the bath.”
Kell stared at Alucard in horror. “What do you mean, invited?”
“Apparently, His Royal Highness was eager to catch a Hand, and decided to use himself as bait.” His blue eyes flicked past Kell. “Hello, Bard. How’s my ship?”