Reign Shadowfell's Arc

Chapter 15 of 29

Johan had not been gone long when a second knock came at the study door. A guard stepped in, breath quick. He had come from the outer wall. A man in gray traveler's clothes had been seen crouched in the tree line, watching the manor gate. A silver sun hung at his throat. Reign closed the ledger and stood. The Church of Light had already found the house. Reign called Johan back and had him bring Jackson to the study. The two men came in together and stopped at the desk. Reign kept his voice low. "A Church of Light scout is on the perimeter," he said. "He has to be dealt with tonight. Take whoever you need. Circle him from the reeds so he cannot run for the road." Johan gave a short nod. Jackson waited for the rest. Reign set his hand flat on the ledger. "Bring him to me alive if you can. Please." Jackson's eyes moved to the red stone at Reign's chest. The silver raven and the ouroboros caught the lamplight. He did not ask what alive was for. He bowed once and said, "We'll take him from behind the well, my lord. He'll not see the second line." Johan drew a knife from his belt to check the edge, then sheathed it. They left together without another word. The imp slipped after them at Reign's nod, small feet quick on the stone. Reign turned to the two women in the room. Lyla stood by the wall, hands folded low, waiting for use. Vixen stayed at the desk's edge. Reign looked at her first. He held her gaze until she understood. A scout taken alive was not a prisoner. A scout taken alive, fed the right blood, bound the right way, became a mouth inside the enemy's house. Vixen's yellow eyes did not move from his. She had seen him revive Lyla in the reeds. She knew the shape of what he meant to do. She crossed to him and took his hand. She rested her head against his shoulder. Her white hair fell across the front of his coat. "And now it begins," she said. Lyla did not speak, but her chin lifted a small degree, as if she had been named without her name being said. Outside, the wind moved through the purple spires of the manor. Somewhere past the outer wall, boots were moving through wet grass. An hour later Johan returned. His sleeve was wet to the elbow and not with his own blood. Two guards dragged the scout between them, gagged, wrists bound behind, the silver sun torn from his throat and set on the desk in front of Reign. The man was breathing. His eyes were open. Reign looked down at him and rolled back one cuff. "Kneel him," he said.