The Traitor's Heir by Anna Thayer Page B

seconds Eamon stayed very still, trying to think of a way to hide the paper. He realized at once that it would be impossible. He was caught.
    He edged out from under the bed, his eyes held firmly and obligingly shut.
    â€œSit up. Not a word or I will kill you.”
    Eamon sat in silence as rope was put about his hands. The skin that brushed past his own surprised him; it seemed too soft for a man’s. As the knot was tied he pulled curiously against it. It was by no means tight enough.
    â€œYou bind very poorly,” he commented.
    The paper was snatched out of his fingers. From the silence that followed, he inferred that his captor was reading it.
    â€œClearly, I mean you no offence,” he added. The silence continued.
    He heard a sigh and a rustle of cloth as his captor knelt next to him.
    â€œI have half a mind to leave you here, Eamon!” Eamon recognized the now undisguised voice with a start.
    â€œAeryn?” Angry words bubbled up in him – he had had too many surprises for one evening. “River’s sake! What are you doing here?”
    â€œI live here,” she replied curtly. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œYou threatened to kill me!”
    â€œYou could have been anyone.”
    Eamon opened his eyes and fixed her in a steely glare. He noted uncertainly that his friend still held a small, sharp knife in her hand.
    â€œSomeone is going to get hurt if you don’t put that down,” he told her, eyeing the blade. He refrained from adding, “Most likely you.”
    â€œI know how to use a knife, thank you,” Aeryn snapped.
    â€œYou wouldn’t be holding it like that if you did.” He thought he saw a look of embarrassment cross her face but her grip on the knife didn’t lessen in the slightest. “You’re not going to put it down?”
    â€œAnswer my question,” Aeryn rejoined, prodding none-too-gently at him with the blade. “What are you doing in my house?”
    Eamon rolled his eyes. “I saw everyone else helping themselves and thought it a fine idea!”
    She glared at him. “There’s no need to be sarcastic.”
    â€œWho said I was being sarcastic?” Eamon’s voice quivered on the verge of violence. “Damn it, Aeryn! What did you think you were doing?”
    â€œWhat did I think I was doing?” Aeryn stared at him. “ You swore to the Gauntlet; you built that pyre; you put my father in it; if anyone is doing anything today, it’s you!”
    The words were keener against Eamon’s heart than the knife that she held there. “I didn’t kill him, Aeryn,” he tried.
    â€œYou’re such a Glove,” she told him viciously. “No, Gloves only ever follow orders. Accountability wasn’t in your training, I suppose?”
    â€œDo you have any idea what they did to me?” Eamon yelled. Tears stung at his eyes; flames danced before them and fire was in his palm once more.
    For a moment the moon became free of cloud; its beams showed two tear-marked faces watching each other wrathfully in the dark.
    Aeryn held his gaze for a moment. “I tried to warn you –”
    â€œâ€˜Red isn’t your colour’? You call that a warning?”
    He glared at her. With a deep sigh, Aeryn lowered her blade then unbound his wrists, carefully bringing his hands out where she could see them. Snuffling with tears, she turned his right hand over between her own.
    The mark of the eagle was still there; in the dark it seemed to glow embers.
    Aeryn traced it with delicate fingers; the gesture caused excruciating pain to run up Eamon’s arm. Agonized, he snatched his hand away.
    Aeryn looked at him with alarm. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her eyes were fixed on his palm. Eamon saw that the glow there filled the whole flesh of his hand.
    He looked at her with horror. “What have I done, Aeryn?”
    â€œYou have sworn a powerful oath.”