Blood of the Watcher (The Dark Ability Book 4) by D.K. Holmberg Page A

his pocket and set it next to the dice.
    When no one reached for it, he shrugged. “Thought we’d dice, but you all seem a bit somber tonight. Maybe it’s the music?” he asked, turning toward the bandolist. He motioned to the man, and the song changed, getting a little louder, and bawdier. The song picked up in rhythm, and the singer’s voice rang loudly through the tavern.
    Brusus leaned forward, the amusement in his face gone. “Rsiran,” he started.
    Rsiran took a long drink of his ale and slammed it down with more force than he intended. “I’ve been waiting for you. Jessa won’t tell me what’s bothering her, and Haern remains silent. Seems like you still want to hold us all under your control.” The words spilled out, more influenced by drink than anything. Rsiran flushed and sighed. “I’m sorry, Brusus. I don’t mean—”
    Brusus shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Jessa didn’t want to say anything to you until I got here because I suspect she wanted to wait to know if I learned anything different than she had.” Brusus glanced at Jessa, who nodded.
    “Learned anything about what? Why wouldn’t she tell me what she’d learned?”
    “Because she’s afraid of what you might do, I suspect,” Brusus said.
    “Do?”
    Brusus looked over at Jessa and leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Even after everything you’ve been through, you’ve proven to be far more forgiving than most,” Brusus went on. “Most of us don’t really understand, and that’s why Haern has been working with you, wanting to harden you a bit.”
    Rsiran looked around the table. Everyone here was his friend, but they all watched him as if afraid of how he might react.
    What did they know?
    “Forgiving of what?” he asked. He looked to Jessa, but she wasn’t willing to meet his eyes. Instead, she picked the dice off the table and shook them again, rolling them in her hand. “You mean my father, don’t you?” he asked.
    That had been the point of contention between him and Jessa. She never understood why he had been so willing to forgive his father, even if Rsiran didn’t really consider it forgiving. He couldn’t find it in himself to hate his father, even after everything that he’d done.
    Jessa looked up and met his eyes. She shook her head and set the dice down, not rolling them across the table this time. “Not your father.”
    “Then who?” he asked.
    Brusus answered for her. “It’s your sister, Rsiran.”
    “What about my sister?” The last time he’d seen Alyse, she had been making her way through Lower Town. Alyse had always been the most blessed of them, gifted by the Great Watcher with both Sight and Reading. Dual abilities were uncommon outside of the Elvraeth, enough to ensure that Alyse would marry well.
    Or it had, until their father lost the smithy. Then she had suffered a fate similar to Rsiran. She had been forced to find work, something that Alyse was particularly ill prepared for.
    “When you learned that she was in Lower Town,” Jessa started, “Brusus asked me to keep an eye on her.”
    “Like you did with my father?”
    “It’s not like that, Rsiran,” Brusus said.
    He turned to Brusus. “No? It seems to me that when my father lost the smithy, you knew long before I did. How long ago did you learn about Alyse?”
    “Only today. Jessa has been watching for her, helping if she can—”
    “You’ve been helping my sister?” he asked her.
    “Not so that she would notice,” Jessa answered. “But I’ve been doing what I can.”
    “Why?”
    “Because she’s your sister,” Jessa answered. She reached toward him, and he let her take his hands. “I know how you feel about her. You never wanted to see her hurt, even though they hurt you. And I know that you still care what happens to her.”
    Rsiran didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t seen his sister in months, and had even made a threat to his father that he would allow Alyse to be harmed, but Rsiran would never have