Chapter 19

The wind howled around him, tugging at his cloak and tousling his hair the longer and faster he rode, slowing only when the spires of the capital loomed into view.

People turned to watch, their conversations falling to hush as he thundered past them atop his steed. Ragnar ought to have ridden straight for the palace to endure the queen's horrid presence and the gazes of the members of her venomous court. It was a torment he had braced himself for, like a soldier donning armor before battle. But there was something he had to attend to before he faced her, a loose thread he had to tie off.

He spotted Gonan in the distance. He was standing in front of his home estate as he watched Ragnar ride towards him. Hooves thudded against the dirt ground as Ragnar pulled hard on his horse's reins.

There was a wide smile on Gonan's face.

Ragnar dismounted and clapped his oldest friend on his shoulder. " You seem happy to see me."

" I'm just glad to see you in one piece. I thought that wife of yours would have tried to kill you at least once by now. Frankly, I expected the worst." Gonan said, narrowly dodging the playful punch Ragnar sent hurtling to the side of his head.

Gonan couldn't help the laugh that escaped him as he tugged Ragnar along rows of neatly trimmed hedges. Gonan always dressed like a patron of high society and now was no different. His attire consisted of a long, black coat adorned with gold pins and brass buttons, layered over a high-collared inner garment. A striking deep red sash draped across his torso, secured with a golden brooch and chain. His waist was cinched with wide leather belts fitted with intricate buckles.

Ragnar looked like a peasant in comparison.

" Has our prisoner awoken?" Ragnar asked, adjusting his scabbard as they walked.

" He did, a while ago in fact. He didn't seem to enjoy being chained up, I'm afraid." There was a strange lilt to his voice that immediately made Ragnar suspicious. Gonan led the way, gravel crunching beneath the weight of his thick sole boots and with his back turned, Ragnar couldn't make out the expression on his friend's face.

" Did something happen to the prisoner?" Ragnar asked, lengthening his strides.

Gonan didn't answer. The brightness of his smile had dulled to only a fraction of what it once was.

" Did you do anything to the boy?" Ragnar asked again. It was closer to a demand this time.

Gonan glanced at Ragnar without breaking his strides. " Nothing he didn't have coming."

Most only saw the abundance of wealth, the expensive fabrics and his body draped in fineries. When they looked at Gonan, they didn't see what Ragnar did. They didn't see the barely leashed violence and brutality. They didn't see the darkness brewing behind the wide smiles, nor did they see the blood stained hands and the pool of red dripping from it.

They reached the front steps of the house and Gonan held the front door open for both of them. The home was only an hour from the palace on horseback, far too close for Ragnar's liking. It was one of the properties Gonan inherited after the death of his grandfather, back when Ragnar was stationed at the south border. Back when he still nursed the juvenile hope that serving in the royal army would gain him favor in the eyes of the king, and make his father see him as more than a bastard but as a son worthy of love. But his father wouldn't come to care or love him, it didn't take Ragnar long to realize that fact. The king's heart just wasn't capable of such emotions.

Inside, Ragnar walked with Gonan along a labyrinth of passageways until they got to the most hidden fraction of the house, where even the light of the sconces barely touched. A heavy steel door stood in the center, secured by several deadbolts. Gonan retrieved a set of keys from his pocket and one by one, he began unlocking each one.

Behind the door was a scarcely illuminated space. It took some time for Ragnar's eyes to readjust to the lack of light. When he did, he looked around the room. It was a small space barely the size of one of the storage rooms he had back home. Grime and dust clung to the wall and the air tasted stale. There was a tiny window high on one wall, it was hardly wide enough for a small child to fit through.

Chained to the floor was the assassin that snuck into Ragnar's chambers the night of the wedding. His hair hung like a limp mass over his face. He didn't even twitch at the sound of the cell door being unlocked or at the two approaching footsteps. His back was pressed to the wall behind him, legs folded beneath him.

Gonan slammed the door shut with a force that shook the room.

The assassin flinched.

" There!" Gonan chuckled. " Almost thought you were dead."

The assassin lifted his head and Ragnar could only stare. Words eluded him at the sight of the multiple cuts and darkening bruises marring the boy's face. There were streaks of dried blood on his cheek and lip, his right eye bruised and nearly swollen shut.

Ragnar's gaze settled on Gonan, for he knew this was his friend's doing.

Gonan didn't meet his gaze. " He tried to escape hours after you left the capital. Managed to kill one of my guards before he was finally caught." Gonan glanced at Ragnar. " Like I said, nothing he didn't already have coming."

Stopping just a few feet away, Ragnar crouched down to be in the same eye level with the assassin.

" You are the least of my problems, it's the people who sent you I have business with." Ragnar pushed back hair from the boy's face, revealing more cuts that were hidden.

Ragnar pursed his lips. He didn't like what he was seeing but he wouldn't berate Gonan, not in front of the prisoner. After losing a guard, the anger Gonan felt was justified.

" What's your name?" Ragnar asked.

The boy didn't speak.

" He won't answer." Gonan snared. Under his breath he murmured; " should have slit his throat the moment we found him."

Ragnar decided to switch tactics.

" Do you have any living relatives?" A long tense moment passed without a response. The silence was palpable and Ragnar doubted he would get a response.

The boy nodded at the very last second.

Ragnar shuffled closer. " Does your employer know about your relatives?"

Another nod. The boy's lips began to tremble.

It wasn't defiance that kept the assassin from confessing, it was fear that held his tongue.

" Tell me everything you know and I promise no harm will come to you and your family. I swear on my mother's name."

But the boy was already shaking his head before Ragnar could even finish.

" No! No, you don't understand." The words came tumbling out of the assassin's lips. " Th-they know. They know I failed. They know where I am. They're going to kill me."

" Who are they?" The question came from Gonan, who was standing by the entrance. He spoke the same moment Ragnar said; " No one can get into the cells without anyone noticing."

The look in the boy's eyes betrayed his warring emotions.

He suddenly lurched forward on his knees, and grabbed hold of Ragnar's arms, dirt stained fingernails digging into his shirt sleeve. " My sister. Her name is Cornelia Biven. She lives alone in Kezar. Find her before they do and keep her safe. T-tell her I love her and that I'm sorry."

He clasped a hand over the boy's quivering fingers. " I promise."

Ragnar felt Gonan slowly drifting closer.

" The guild wants you gone." The boy coughed. " They don't want you to ascend Marzan's throne. The ve—" The boy began coughing incessantly.

Blood spilled from the corner of his eyes in a thin stream. The boy's entire body was shaking.

" The ve—" He tried again but it was like the very words had gotten stuck in his throat. The skin on his face rippled and shifted. An entire section of it peeled off on its own but instead of strips of skin, it was sheer fabric that came out, lengthening in size as more parts of the assassin's face was scraped off.

Ragnar fell back in surprise. He blinked to make sure what he was seeing was real. Before his very eyes, the boy's face flickered into someone else's visage. Someone older. Someone completely different from the boy he had been interrogating.

Once the skin on the boy's face had been completely stripped off, the sheer fabric began coiling itself around the boy's throat, forming a tight noose.

The boy now had a face Ragnar didn't recognize. Not a boy; Ragnar thought to himself. A man, he was probably even older than Ragnar and he was masquerading as a boy the whole time. The assassin's hands went up to grip at his throat as the fabric wind itself tighter.

The shock wore off and urgency snapped back in, forcing Ragnar into motion. He pulled out a small hunting knife from his vest and slashed at the noose but the blade couldn't cut through it.

Ragnar saw when life left the man's eyes. His trembling ceased and his head lulled to the side. The cloth around his neck loosened, before falling away entirely to the floor. Its color was a deep shade of crimson.

Ragnar stared at it in silence. He refused to touch it, not even with the toe of his boot. He was afraid of what would happen if he did. Nothing he had ever experienced in his life could compare to what he just witnessed in that cell.

His thoughts churned like a storm-tossed sea.

He looked at the dead man in front of him. He didn't know what to make of the entire situation. Magic. Magic that was strong enough to completely alter a person's appearance was unheard of. But it exists, he had seen it for himself and the people that wielded such abilities were out to kill him.

How does one fight against an opponent that has the ability to change their appearance at will?

" We should bury his body." Gonan said. He was just as rattled as Ragnar was by the ordeal. He looked like he was seconds away from keeling over. Neither of them had expected what happened, nor imagined such things being possible.

" Yes," Ragnar blew out a ragged breath. " We should."