Shatter Like Glass-Cinderella Retold

Part Forty-Six

A/N: So, just a note, I changed Master Bhavya to Master Ballari. I figured it would be easier to pronounce. I haven't gone back and updated all the parts where I have changed names. I will fix those once I have the story posted in its entirety. Now that school has started again and I've got lots of homework and reading to do, getting the final chapters worked out are more important than correcting names in prior chapters.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy!

Jag gripped his bow. The string dug into his fingers. He had nocked an arrow when he'd arrived at the safehouse over a half hour earlier and had not yet loosed it. He hadn't loosened his grip either, despite his pacing. With each step his heel scraped softly against the stone floor. Glancing down at his boots, he took care to shorten his stride, limiting the noise. He was never this careless, not when gold or valuables or his men's safety were on the line. This task wasn't like his raids with his men. The only life on the line was George's, and for once Jag didn't care about gold. Had anyone but Ashen asked him, he would've said no. Actually, he would have laughed in their face, then said no. But it had been Ashen. She had lost so much, almost as much as he had. After everything they had done for each other, she didn't deserve to lose the one person she had left—and the gold she'd promised had been too good to refuse.

Even so, it took everything in him to fight the temptation to let the ice demons die. What did he care if the Kingslayers won? Life might be easier for the Knights—the elites of the kingdoms would be easy prey. Well, Ebony's and Nyx's nobility were already effortless marks. Even after years of raids against their carriages and castles, they hadn't gotten much better at defending their possessions. If not for his upbringing in Calarian, he would have thought the nobles would give up and relinquish the countries to him and his band of thieves. He knew, though, that rulers were stubborn. Better to hold a crumbling authority over a lawless territory than to control nothing at all. The Kingslayers might force those sons of ricks to reconsider how their policies hurt their people. Not that Jag thought the royals would listen, no matter how harsh the lesson.

Was it really right to allow so many to suffer simply to keep George alive?

Yes, what was left of his pesky conscience whispered to him. It is. You know it is.

Jag grimaced. Glancing to his left, he saw Wyll was as tense as him. When Jag had left the palace grounds, he hadn't gone immediately to the safehouse. Instead, he'd made his way towards a road near the city's walls. That was where he had told him men to meet him once they'd arrived. He had also told them how to get to the capital faster, just in case the Kingslayers arrived earlier than Ashen anticipated. The shortcut allowed is men to arrive only shortly after he and the others reached the capital, even without having iced the runners of their own carriage.

Part of him knew he should've mentioned the quicker route to Ashen and Peder so their own forces could make use of it. The other part of him—the part he nearly always listened to—told him knowledge of yet another closely guarded council secret would only inspire questions in Ashen and the guard. His men, on the other hand, never asked questions. At least, not any that might stray too close to his past. None that would answer what brought an orphaned thirteen-year-old from a frozen kingdom to the cesspool that was Ebony.

Wyll met his eyes. Jag saw his own doubt reflected in them. He suspected all of them were still not quite convinced. Of course they weren't. They'd risked their lives before for coin and loot, but the Kingslayers would be better equipped to fight off an attack than the nobles were. His knights agreed to help because they trusted him to choose what was best for him. Was this the right decision for them? He'd questioned his coming to Calarian at least a hundred times since leaving East Sienna. The fortnight on the sea had provided plenty of time for self-doubt. Unfortunately, it seemed rather too late to change his mind now, and if he hadn't done so during the trip, he likely wouldn't have at all.