“They tell me very little,” said Robert. “I simply carry the letters.”
He might have been lying. He might have been telling the truth. But Tristam was running out of time. The Whitt household was one of the smaller houses of Forge, halfway to Edlan. They certainly would have had plenty of reason to encourage a Demon Rider sweep. “Will you testify to the Council that you ran messages between Willem and Lord Whitt?”
Robert didn’t answer right away, and Tristam allowed the silence between them to stretch. It was like a game of cards, interrogating a hostile prisoner, always trying to hide one’s own hand while guessing the opponent’s.
“I’ll testify,” Robert said. “But I want a guard around me at all times. I fear for my life.”
“I can arrange that,” he said. “We’ll take you to the city tomorrow.”
He kept his walk at a dignified pace until Robert could no longer see him, then he rushed out to find Kyra. The cave was surrounded by Demon Riders. Each time Tristam returned, it seemed more Makvani loitered in its vicinity—four the first time, then five, then seven. Only one or two at any given time were actually serving a shift. The rest had no obvious reason for being there.
He finally spotted Kyra farther out, walking aimlessly through and around the trees. She looked a little worse for wear these days—her clothes were dusty, and her ponytail had several escaped strands, though she still walked with that graceful, easy stride. She came toward him when he caught her eye, and something must have showed in his expression, because a cautious optimism crossed her face.
“Do you believe him?” asked Kyra after he told her.
“We can’t afford not to,” he said. “If we want to stop the offensive, we must do something now.”
“And you’re set on taking it before the Council? It could be bad for you, if they don’t believe you.” There was real worry in her eyes. The strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail blew across her face. Tristam was tempted to brush them away but thought better of it. He was to have dinner again with Cecile tonight. “It’s less dangerous for me than it would be for you.”
Kyra pursed her lips but couldn’t argue with his reasoning. “Very well, then,” she said. She squeezed his hand. “Rest well.”
The voices of the Makvani drifted after Tristam as he walked away. As much as he hated to admit it, Flick had been right about asking the Demon Riders to help. The guards had been very helpful. There was no way Kyra could have watched and sheltered Robert nearly as well on her own. He thought back again to his argument with Flick. They had primarily exchanged words over the Makvani, but it was what he’d said about Kyra that stuck in Tristam’s mind.
You think you can keep her separate in your mind from the others. You think she’s different, Flick had said. Or, more accurately, yelled. But don’t you realize Kyra doesn’t see it that way? It’s killing her to see you hate her kin like this. You’ll never truly care for her if you despise her blood.
Tristam could have argued with Flick. There were many things that made Kyra different from the others. But even if he’d brought those up, he couldn’t argue with the look in Kyra’s eyes whenever he made his true feelings about the Makvani known. He’d seen it many times, but he’d looked away.
Distracted by his thoughts, Tristam was slow to react when a yellow blur shot out from between the trees and knocked him to the ground. Before Tristam could grab his sword, whatever attacked him had disappeared back into the trees. He climbed to his feet, holding his sword in one hand and his dagger in the other. Had that been a demon cat? No, too small. Whatever had hit him had run into his legs.