Chapter 10: The Man Who Led the Raid

Noah's cup hit the long table before he meant it to.

He had not drunk from it.

The wine in it had not been poured for him.

At the far end of the hall, Adrian had just said it out loud.

He was the man who had led the raid that took Noah from his bed.

The court chamber went quiet.

Noah put his hand flat over the cup and left it there.

Adrian stepped out from behind him, toward the dais.

Every noble in the hall turned to watch a prince leave the side of his own captive.

'My lord,' Adrian said. 'Who gave the order to move the priest to the lower cells?'

Valerius did not stand.

He sat in the tall chair and looked at Adrian the way a man looks at weather he has already decided to ignore.

'A prince who hides behind a captive's gratitude,' he said, 'has no authority to question a lord's placement of prisoners.'

The words carried to the far end of the hall.

They were built to.

Noah watched the nobles take them in.

He watched a few of them decide.

Under the table, his free hand found the hem of his sleeve.

The music box sat against his wrist, small and cold, its sun-wheel stamp pressed to his skin like a coin.

He had carried it out of the prince's rooms this morning.

No one had asked him what he held.

No one in this hall had ever asked him anything.

Adrian did not answer the insult.

He turned to the room instead.

'I led the raid on the church myself,' he said. 'I carried the priest out of his bed with my own hands.'

A chair scraped somewhere on the left.

The silence changed shape after that.

Lord Harrow had praised Adrian's protection of the priest three nights ago, loudly, at this same table.

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