Chapter 4: RHYERS - Spies & Disguises

InnerCircle City, Mane Country

RHYERS

“It’s appalling!” Samuel Marshall declared as he turned away from the window. And the sight of two young men trying to woo his little sister.

It is appalling. Rhyers agreed with the assessment immediately.

“She’s becoming quite beautiful. That’s why they are casting eyes at her.” Rhyers walked around the room absentmindedly moving figurines on the bookshelves.

“I don’t like it.” Samuel grumbled. Seating himself at his desk to begin scribbling on parchment.

Me neither.

“We’ll keep her safe.”

“Will we?”

Rhyers looked over his shoulder. Making the high powdered wig displace on his head. “Of course.” He reflexively readjusted the wig.

I hate this thing.

“And what if something were to happen to me?” Sam blurted.

Nothing will happen to you? He frowned. Why are you staring at me?

“Are you asking if I’d still look after her?”

“I am.” Sam’s chin hitched.

Stupid question.

“Of course, I would. You know I’m fond of the girl.”

“Are you? Sometimes you can be so cold.”

“It’s my nature.” Rhyers shrugged.

I’m not one for children.

“Do I have your word? You’d let nothing happen to her?”

Where do these questions originate?

“Of course.” Rhyers strode across the room faintly annoyed as he felt Sam’s eyes on his back, as he moved to stare out the window.

“Your word? I know what it means to you.”

Yes, you do. And you’re using it against me now.

It doesn’t matter. I’d take care of her anyway. Ebony doesn’t deserve to be Targue food.

“You’ve my word.” Rhyers murmured. Turning to look out the window as he felt the dark rings form around his eyes.

A seal. If the vow were not to be kept then the Knight would begin to sicken. Weaken. Until the vow was kept. His magic would charge, even unconsciously, toward that goal.

Rhyers’ gaze followed Ebony’s slim, dark-haired frame as she strolled the gardens. Trailing soft fingertips across open pink rose buds on the bushes bordering the walk. When did she get so lovely?

Silver ribbons danced in her hair. As she turned her face to speak to the visitors in the garden her profile was visible. Soft eyelids, high cheekbones, a short, pointed nose, and dark red lips dominating a gracefully sloping chin atop a high neck.

It appears they’ve noticed as well.

Two young suitors sat on a bench nearby vying for her attention.

Much to Samuel’s discontent…

“It’s time I head back home for the evening.” Rhyers murmured.

“Don’t forget to tell her farewell. You know how she favors you.”

Telling her goodbye only adds to her fondness. Rhyers grunted in response.

“She’s impetuous.”

“She is trouble.” Samuel agreed. Going back to jotting.

“A missive to the Paladine King?”

“To Metriossis. Of course.” Sam agreed, not bothering to look up.

Asking about more problems in the country. More deaths…Always looking for Firoque to hunt.

Rhyers recognized the intent look on his friend’s face. He’s determined to kill them all to save his sister.

A sister that wasn’t even his by blood.

He’s a good man.

Sam’s voice broke into his thoughts. “You know she wants to be part of your world eventually?”

“After you told her I was a Boy Lover?” Rhyers couldn’t help the jab as he gave his friend a dark study.

“She asks about it constantly.” Sam still didn’t look up.

About me being a Boy Lover? I’m not sure which subject we’re now on.

“Will you let her be a spy?” Rhyers probed knowing he goaded Sam.

“Never!” Sam’s head shot up. “Unless she’s with Christophe.”

Christophe! Why do I have to take her? She’s your sister! Rhyers head whipped. Lips tightening as he eyed Samuel.

“She doesn’t know?”

“Of course not.” Samuel returned his look. “That’s not my secret to tell.”

Rhyers turned back to the window. “I hadn’t thought you’d actually succeed in convincing her we’re two different people.”

“I’m very persuasive.” Sam went back to the missive. “Tell her bye before you leave.”

Rhyers groaned.

“Go.”

“She’s a child.”

“She’s the only family I have.”

Rhyers blew a long breath. Relenting.

“A girl who loves roses is boring, expected…Predictable.” His tone was dark from obeying Sam’s directive.

She smiled softly without glancing at him falling into step with her. “What if I don’t care what a man thinks?”

Or don’t care what I think? That’s what she’s really saying.

“You will someday.”

For some man.

“Why? Do you care what men think of you?” She challenged.

Stubborn.

“I think you worry too much what people think…”

I most certainly do not!

“I do not.” He defended. Rearing back. Black brows shooting up.

She arched her own brow and shot him a look. Large doe eyes assessing him. “That wig is ugly.”

It is. It’s horrendous.

“You think this is better?” He lifted a curling lock from down her back. Feigning a distasteful expression, pointedly ignoring how it shined in the afternoon sun.

“It’s me.” She gave him a sideways look and swatted his hand away. “Not me trying to be someone else.”

He pursed his lips and gave a half nod at her confidence. I have to be someone else. That’s how one spies, My Dear.

“I know your disparaging look.” She chastised.