Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Eighty Six: Uneasy Truce

They stood among a swathe of bodies, staring at each other. Measuring. Arlen's heart still pounded from the adrenaline of the fight and now he had a hunter's keen alertness, a zipping awareness of everything and everyone in the room. His hunting knife was slick and dripping at his side.

He had come to save Marick, of course. Anyone who opposed the Caelumese had his support; and if he wanted his future claim to the seat to be respected, he had to take it from someone.

It did not negate the rift that had grown between them.

Around them, Arlen's group cast them wary glances as they looted the bodies alongside the Devils that Jesper and Akiva had rousted on their way back to them. Others also surreptitiously watched how the stand-off would play out, but Arlen watched most closely of all. The truth was, he had no idea how this was going to go. It was the only thing denying him his pleasure at the vengeance he'd taken tonight.

"I understand that a contract went awry?" he finally asked. He tried to make his tone light. He kicked a silver shoulder plate away from him and it rattled in the silence. Marick didn't flinch. Arlen leaned on his stick, casually. His stump ached and prickled from the exertion but his heart still thrummed, denying the discomfort.

"Cael never intended to hold to it." Marick nodded. "I had hoped to make a quiet move before he had a chance to do anything flashy."

Still lying, Arlen thought, clenching his teeth. "I could have dealt with him."

To Marick's credit, he did not so much as glance at the false limb. "Not this time."

Someone cried out from a dark corner of the room. One of the lower-rung lackeys dragged something from the pile and pulled it into the light. Usk stepped over and pulled it the rest of the way, dropping Gelert's body at Marick's feet. The leader's face was impassive as he looked down upon it.

"What a shame," Arlen muttered. He shook his head. "I will miss his terms of endearment."

"He betrayed me." Marick's voice was flat. "He paid the price for it."

Arlen couldn't help but stare. "You killed him?"

"Cael needed Devil help," the man said harshly, "And when I put my foot down, Gelert took it upon himself to negotiate in my place. So confident he was that I would approve. Well. I didn't. And now the city is falling apart. Men with too much ambition are dangerous."

Was that a warning to him, or a stab at his perceived lack of ambition? Arlen wasn't sure. He didn't believe for a moment that Marick found out about Gelert's betrayal just tonight, which meant he had allowed the man to ruin it all. Was that not also a kind of permission?

"Has Cael's body been recovered?" Marick asked of everyone in the room. He still stared at Gelert's prone form.

"No." A chorus of quiet negatives echoed from all corners.

"He escaped, sir," someone said. "I saw him slip out but couldn't get past the soldiers."

Marick bared his teeth, an uncharacteristic show of frustration. Arlen watched carefully. Some things weren't adding up and others were making a terrible kind of sense. Usk's suspicions had been right all along about Marick working with the Caelumese – now that had fallen through, where did that leave them? He didn't see how it could go back to how it had been before. He couldn't just discard the fact that if it hadn't fallen through, Marick may well have disposed of him eventually. Nor could he take back the number of moves he had already made against the Devils' leader.

No, there was no going back. But it could give him more time to plan.

"I want him killed." Marick met his gaze. "You come with me. You...and Ashe."