Frostfire (25 page)

“Gosh, I really hope you don’t mean that, because that just sounds sad,” Ember said,
staring up at me with pity in her dark eyes.

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Just never mind.” I stood up, grabbing a sweater off
my bedpost, and pulled it on over my tank top.

“What are you doing?” Ember sat up straighter, alarmed.

“I should probably head out. I’m supposed to go over to my parents’ for supper.” If
I left now, I’d actually be a little early, but I’d grown tired of talking about romance
and Ridley.

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Okay.” She slowly pulled on her boots and got to her feet. “Sorry
if I said something to offend you.”

“No, you’re okay.” I brushed it off. “You’re fine. I just have stuff to do.”

Ember left, not seeming totally convinced that I wasn’t mad at her, so tomorrow I’d
probably have to spend some time making up with both her and Tilda. But for now I
had other things on my mind. Once she’d gone, I moved Konstantin’s file, preferring
to hide it in the bottom of my nightstand drawer, underneath odds and ends.

The dinner with my parents had actually been my idea. After I’d read the incident
report, going over what had happened with Konstantin in black-and-white, I realized
that I needed to talk to my dad and find out what had actually happened that night
before I came into the room.

The sun had nearly set by the time I reached my parents’ cottage in the town square.
It had been a rare day without a cloud in sight, and the sky was darkening from pink
to amethyst as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Before I even opened the front door, I could hear my mother, singing an old Skojare
seafaring hymn. I paused, peeking through the kitchen window to see her standing in
the kitchen, an apron around her waist and flour everywhere. She always sang when
she baked, usually Skojare songs in a mixture of heavily accented English and Swedish,
or occasionally Barbra Streisand. My mom had always been a sucker for Streisand.

When I came inside, I closed the door quietly behind me, and she didn’t hear me as
I took off my boots and hung up my jacket. As a tracker, I’d been trained to tread
lightly, to move about without making a sound, and I’d made it all the way into the
kitchen before she turned around and saw me.

“Bryn!” Mom gasped and put her hand to her chest. “You scared the daylights out of
me!” She smiled and swatted me playfully with an oven mitt. “Don’t give your mother
a heart attack. It’s not very nice.”

“Sorry,” I said, but couldn’t help laughing. “What are you baking?”

“Just a gooseberry pie for dessert.”

“I’m sure it’ll be delicious.” I grinned. “Where’s Dad? I wanted to talk to him before
dinner.”

“He’s in his study,” Mom said, but she stopped me before I turned to go. “Listen,
Bryn, I need to talk to you for a second.”

“About what?” I asked, and even though I was an adult living on my own, I still felt
like a little kid about to be grounded for staying out too late.

“Well.” She took a deep breath and tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her
ear, unmindful that she was getting flour in it, and her eyes were grim. “I know that
Konstantin Black is the one causing all the trouble.”

I took half a step back from her and straightened my shoulders, preparing for a fight,
but I waited until she’d said her piece before saying anything.

“I know that you have a job to do, but…” She pursed her lips. “He nearly took your
father and you away from me already. I don’t want you messing around with him.”

“Mom, he barely hurt me before,” I tried to deflect her concern. “It was little more
than a scratch, and I was just a kid then. I can handle him now. You don’t need to
worry.”

“Bryn, you are my daughter, my
only
daughter.” She walked closer to me and put her hands on my shoulders. “I know how
brave and strong you are, but I need to know that you’re safe. And I can’t know that
if you’re chasing around after this madman.”

She put her hand to my cheek, forcing me to look up at her, and the aquamarine in
her eyes was filled with pleading. “Bryn. Please. Promise you’ll stay away from him.”

“I’ll stay away from him if I can,” I told her honestly. “But I’m going to protect
myself and this kingdom. I’ll do what I need to do, and that’s the best I can give
you.”

Her shoulders slacked, but her hand lingered on my face. “Be safe. Don’t be reckless
or brave. If you must go out after him, then come back safe.”

“I will,” I assured her, and she leaned forward and kissed my forehead.

“Okay.” She stepped back and smiled at me, trying to erase her earlier seriousness.
“I need to finish with the pie. Go ahead and see your father.”

TWENTY-SIX

remnants

Dad sat at his desk, his head bowed over paperwork and his reading glasses resting
precariously on the end of his nose. The only light came from a small lamp next to
him, and it made the silver hair at his temples stand out more against the rest of
his black hair.

“Can I talk to you for a second, Dad?” I asked, poking my head in his study.

“Bryn.” He smiled when he saw me, and pulled off his glasses. “Yeah, of course. Come
in.”

I closed the door behind me, and then sat down in the chair across from his desk.
The walls of his study were lined with shelves filled with old books and Kanin antiquities.
On his desk, he used an old artifact—a rabbit carved out of stone—as a paperweight.
I’d always felt that in another life, my dad would’ve made an excellent history professor.

“Is something wrong?” He leaned forward on the desk, and his brow furrowed in concern.

“Not exactly.” I crossed my legs and settled back in the chair. “But I need you to
tell me about the day that Konstantin Black tried to kill you.”

“I’d be happy to tell you anything you want to know, but I don’t know how much there
is to tell.” Dad shook his head. “I mean, you were there and witnessed most of it.
What you didn’t witness, we’ve already talked about.”

And we had. Dad had been interviewed by multiple Högdragen and even the King himself,
as they tried to get to the bottom of what had happened with Konstantin. Beyond that,
Dad and I had talked about it after it had happened. I’d been just as confused as
everyone else, if not more so.

“It’s been a long time, though. I need a refresher,” I said.

“All right.” Dad set his glasses aside on the desk and leaned back in his chair. “We
were at the celebration that night, and everyone was there. Lots of people were drunk.
We were all in good spirits about the Vittra King being killed. Konstantin was working,
but I don’t even really remember seeing him. You probably had a better view of him
than I did.”

I had had my eyes on Konstantin most of the night. While my duties were to stand at
attention during formalities and help keep inebriated townsfolk from causing a ruckus,
most of that really meant standing at the side of the room and watching. So my gaze
frequently went to Konstantin, who smiled much more than a member of the Högdragen
was supposed to.

That was honestly what I remembered most about him that night. Him standing proud
and confident in his lush uniform, smiling and laughing with anyone who bumped into
him as he stood by the King and Queen’s side. Konstantin had seemed like a man in
good spirits—not like one plotting murder.

“I grew weary of the party, probably fairly early in the evening. At least by your
standards. I am an old man, after all.” Dad offered a small smile to lighten the story.
“I headed back to my office, where I worked on a letter to the Trylle. I fell asleep
briefly at my desk, I believe, and I kept periodically peeking out so I could catch
you before you left.”

“You were kind of stalking me that night?” I asked, raising a bemused eyebrow.

“You were only fifteen and it was your first night on the job, and there were far
too many drunk idiots dancing around.” He shrugged. “I wanted to make sure it went
okay for you.”

“Thank you.” I smiled, warmed by the thought of my dad watching out for me, whether
I’d needed it or not.

“You’re very welcome,” Dad said. “And when you were done, Konstantin found us in the
main hall, and that was the first time I’d spoken to him all night.”

“When was the last time you’d spoken to him before that?” I asked.

“Um, I’m not completely sure.” He scratched his temple. “I think probably the day
before. Konstantin had come to get me to ask me something on the Queen’s behalf about
the celebration. I don’t remember exactly what it was, but I think it was just basic
palace party stuff. Nothing out of the ordinary, really.”

“Had you ever fought with Konstantin?” I pressed.

“No.” Dad shook his head. “No, we barely spoke. I saw him around the palace from time
to time, but the only times we ever talked was if he was passing along a message from
the King or Queen, or vice versa.

“I know he was something of a star to folks around here,” he went on. “And I never
really bought into the hero worship, but I’d never had a bad word to say about him.
He could be cocky, but he was polite and efficient, and he seemed to do his job well,
so I never had reason to complain.”

“Did he say anything to you?” I asked. “After you left me in the hall, and you and
Konstantin walked back to the Queen’s office.”

“We chatted a bit on the way to the office, talking about the party and how late it
was.” Dad shrugged. “We were both tired, but it was all basic, nothing giving any
indication that he was unhappy with me.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on
the desk, and then rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s why I never thought it was
personal.”

“He wasn’t mad at you. He was trying to get rid of the Chancellor,” I said, surmising
what I’d long suspected.

Dad nodded. “Right. I don’t know why he went after me and not the King or Queen. Obviously,
they have more power than me. But maybe he planned on going after them next. I don’t
know.”

“What did he say to you once you got to the Queen’s office?” I asked.

“First he had me looking around for the Queen’s document I was supposed to go over,
which now I know doesn’t exist. I don’t know why he was having me search around her
desk for something that wasn’t real, unless he was stalling for time, but I don’t
know why he’d do that.” He rubbed his chin, contemplating.

“You think he may have been putting off his assassination attempt?” I asked when Dad
didn’t say anything for a moment.

He shook his head, as if clearing it. “Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe he
was just waiting for the right moment.”

“Did the right moment ever come?”

“Yeah, it must’ve.” He leaned back again, his eyes far away as he was lost in his
memory of that night. “When I was bent over, digging through a drawer in the Queen’s
desk.

“Then Konstantin said, ‘Chancellor, I am very sorry.’ And I turned around, thinking
he was apologizing for misplacing the paper, and I started to tell him it was all
right. Then I saw that his sword was drawn.

“I held up my hands, and I said, ‘You don’t have to do this. We can talk about it.’”
Dad fell silent, letting out a heavy breath. “Konstantin shook his head once, and
he said, ‘I have nothing I can say.’ And that was it.”

“And then he stabbed you,” I supplied quietly.

“I dodged to the side, not enough to miss his blade entirely, but enough so it missed
my heart by an inch.” He touched his chest, rubbing the spot where his scar was hidden
beneath his shirt. “I cried out, and I fell to the ground. And you came running in.”

I knew how the rest of the story played out. With Konstantin apologizing to me. Then
I charged at him and he stabbed me through the shoulder before escaping into the night.

I leaned forward, looking up at my dad intently. “I need to ask you something, and
it’s going to sound weird, but I want you to be honest with me.”

“I always try to be honest with you,” Dad replied.

“Do you think Konstantin wanted to kill you?” I asked him directly.

He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and took a minute
before speaking. “You know, I thought about that a lot then, and I didn’t tell anybody
the truth, because it sounded insane. And then after he stabbed me, he’d hurt you,
and I couldn’t forgive him for that. He had no business going after you. You were
just a kid.”

“Dad. You didn’t answer the question.”

“The truth is … no.” He answered almost sadly. “I don’t think Konstantin wanted to
kill me. I don’t even think he wanted to hurt me. It doesn’t make it any better that
he did. In fact, it makes it worse. He nearly killed me and hurt you, for no good
reason.”

“Do you think…” I licked my lips, choosing my words very carefully. “Do you think
maybe he had a good reason, and we just don’t know what it was?”

“He could’ve killed you, Bryn, and there is no reason in the world that would’ve been
good enough for that,” Dad said simply, and I couldn’t argue with him.

If Konstantin had killed my dad, I wouldn’t even be asking what his reasons were.
They wouldn’t have mattered. But since he hadn’t succeeded, I allowed myself to entertain
the idea that something much larger was in place, something that made Konstantin an
unwilling agent of evil.

Even though I should only have vengeance in my heart, I found myself struck by something
my dad had said. Or, more accurately, something Dad had said that Konstantin had told
him right before he stabbed him:
I have nothing I can say
.

Not
there’s nothing to say
or
we have nothing to talk about
. No, there was nothing that Konstantin
could
say, as if he hadn’t been allowed to.

The more I researched Konstantin, the less I seemed to know. For the past four years,
I’d been haunted by the fact that I had no idea why he’d gone after my father, and
now his motivations left me even more baffled than ever before.