The Tainted City by Courtney Schafer Read Free Book Online Page A

Dev. Remember what you said to me after I fixed up your head in Kost? I feel the same. So keep your head down, and don’t do anything stupid. Things’ll come right in the end.
    A lump in my throat joined the lead weight in my stomach. I won’t ever abandon you again, I’d said, while her fingers traced lazy circles on my skin. And then, we’d—
    No. If I thought too long on that one glorious night, I’d crack like hammerstruck granite. Instead I meticulously refolded the letter, aware of Martennan’s gaze on me. He was too clever not to realize Cara’s talk of cousins and drovers held a deeper meaning. I just prayed he knew too little of my past to understand it.
    “Can I keep this?” I asked. Thank Khalmet, my voice came out steady.
    “By all means,” Martennan said. “You have a good friend in Cara. It should set your mind at ease to know she’s looking after your interests in Ninavel.”
    Damn his eyes, he’d seen my dismay, despite my attempt to cover it. I shrugged, carefully noncommittal. “I’d feel better yet if I could join her there.” A truth that was no secret.
    Martennan was the very picture of sympathy. “You may yet. The Council will need some weeks to review your case, but when they finish, the outcome may be a happy one. It’s hard to wait, I know, but give it time.”
    “Right.” I didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm from my tone. A happy outcome, sure—but for whom? And time was one thing I didn’t have.

Chapter Three
    (Kiran)
    K iran shoved aside the leather-bound book, tempted to cast it straight into the slate fireplace on the study’s far side. The text contained yet another overly dramatic, maddeningly vague account of Alathia’s founding. Pages upon pages of praise for Denarell of Parthus’s vision in convincing a few hundred families of Harsian descent to leave the decadent cities of eastern Arkennland, cross thousands of miles of wilderness, and carve out a new country; and not a word about what supplies they’d brought or artifacts they’d discovered. So much for his hope of finding clues to what materials Alathia’s mages had used when they first cast the spells powering their border wards.
    In her chair beside the fireplace, Lena lifted her gaze from a slim volume. The title proclaimed it a naturalist’s discussion of the deserts of Sulania.
    “It’s lovely outside today.” She indicated the arched window behind her. Late morning sunlight streamed through the patterned glass, turning the polished wood of the study’s bookshelves to cinnamon and amber. “Have you considered a walk in the back garden? You’ve been huddled in here for days.”
    “If I’m forbidden from useful work, I’d prefer to read.” Kiran struggled to keep his tone civil. Since the day he’d felt the tremor in Stevannes’s workroom, he hadn’t been permitted to return to the Arcanum. He’d been kept cloistered in the lavishly appointed guest house that had been his quarters since his trial. For all its expansive library and beautifully manicured garden, the wards lurking within the property’s walls were powerful enough to make it a perfect prison.
    “Have you any news of Dev?” he asked Lena. Ten days ago, Captain Martennan—or Marten, as he’d asked Kiran to call him—had told Kiran of the disaster at Cheltman. He’d assured Kiran of Dev’s survival and claimed the Council would bring Dev back from the mines for safety’s sake. Yet since that visit, Marten had been conspicuous in his absence. Kiran feared it meant the Council had changed their minds about Dev’s recall—or worse.
    Lena shook her head. “If Talmaddis left the mine with Dev right after the order was relayed, they should arrive any day now.”
    Kiran sighed, hoping she was right and his fears unfounded. He moved to the shelf and pulled free a compilation of tales from early Alathian trading expeditions.
    “I didn’t realize you had such an interest in history.”
    Though Lena’s words were mild,