CH822 · Rewrite
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Chapter 822: Traitors

“She’s well.” Hill laughed. “She spent some time on Sleeping Island in the Fjords and has since returned to Neverwinter. From what I’ve heard, Miss Quinn and Princess Tilly — His Majesty’s sister — are particularly close. She’ll be treated as an honored guest.”

Then Hill told him small things: that Andrea loved cards, was obsessive about her marksmanship, that she argued sometimes with another card-playing companion, that she had, on the whole, found her place among them.

The news made time disappear.

Until the argument started below.

Hill stopped mid-sentence and walked quietly to the door. He put his eye to the gap between door and frame. “Something’s wrong on the first floor.”

“Let me send someone.” Otto gestured for him to stay, raised his voice toward the door: “Who’s making noise out there? Go and find out!”

“Yes, my lord,” the maid answered from the corridor.

“Probably someone drunk,” Otto said, settling the blanket around himself again. “It happens in taverns. You were saying — Miss Quinn entered the Neverwinter hunting competition. Who won?”

Hill raised one finger to his lips. He pressed his ear against the door and listened.

When he turned back, his face had changed.

“The people downstairs are armored.”

“What?”

“Iron boots on stone floors. Sword hilts catching on chair backs. No one drinks in full plate.” He didn’t wait for the maid. He crossed to the couch and lifted the panel. “This is trouble.”

“How — how is that possible?” Otto’s brow tightened. “I swear I never—”

“I know. If I thought otherwise, I wouldn’t have come.” Hill cut him off. He looked at the shaft. “I’ll leave. Can you hold them?”

“Go.” Otto gestured toward the passage. “If they’re after you and I’m still here, they’ll have less reason to search carefully. You can get clear.”

“You won’t come?”

“I’m the eldest son of the Luoxi family. They can’t touch me.” He didn’t say the rest — that he hadn’t told his father about the witches, about the contact with Roland’s scouts, about any of it. Running now would confirm everything Appen suspected. An empty room raised questions an occupied one didn’t. “Stay here, and you have time.”

Hill studied him for one moment. Then: “Good luck.” He released the edge of the panel and dropped into the dark.

Otto straightened the blankets, settled back on the couch, and arranged his expression.

The footsteps came up the stairs shortly after — heavy, unhurried, the scrape of metal against the banister. The maid who had gone to inquire never returned.

They didn’t knock.

A company of fully armored knights came through the door, and Otto was on his feet before they had fully entered. “This is the private property of Earl Luoxi! What in God’s name—” Two of them stepped forward and pushed him down onto the cushions with the flat ease of men who had done this before.

“Forgive us, my lord. You are the one committing treason. Not us.” The lead knight offered a small, composed shrug. They wore gold plate and the emblems of the royal knightage on their chests — but Otto had never seen any of them before.

Where had Appen found these men?

“Let go of me!” He shoved against the grip. “That’s a slander!”

“Save it for His Majesty,” the knight said. “You have disappointed him, my lord.”

When he heard the name Appen Moya, the last of his composure fell away.


He didn’t see the king until two days later.

“I’m told you haven’t eaten,” Appen said, standing on the other side of the bars. He looked older. Not old — there was something consolidated about him now, something settled into the lines around his eyes that had not been there before. “Your request has been granted. Eat something.”

“Where am I?” Otto’s voice had gone rough. He kept his hands on the bars to steady himself. “Why did you do this? What have you done to my father?”

“Are you not satisfied with the accommodations?” Appen glanced around the cell. “I had it arranged after your rooms in the Duke mansion. Small — but there’s a bed, a desk, chairs, a bookcase. You’ll be comfortable enough.” He paused. “As for where — beneath the palace, naturally. I need to know where you are.”

“Your Majesty.” Otto pressed forward. “Let me speak. I didn’t—”

“Betray you?” Appen’s voice didn’t rise, but the word landed like a door slamming. “You think I’ll believe that, after everything? Two months of work to trace the witches — two months — and at the end of it I find you. You arranged for Yorko to attend the Black Money auction. You helped him leave the City of Glow.” Now the composure cracked, just slightly — not weakness, something harder beneath it. “That day in the palace: didn’t you hear it? Didn’t you hear how the King of Graycastle discarded the covenant and made my father’s friendship into nothing?”

“I—”

“Do you want to talk about traitors? Or about the witches who deserve damnation?” Appen’s voice went flat. “Enough, Otto Luoxi. If you were not my oldest friend — if the three noble families didn’t need to remain intact — you would already be dead. I still need those families’ support. But that won’t protect you indefinitely. This is your last chance. Do not waste it.”

The man behind the bars was someone Otto had grown up beside, had argued and ridden and played cards with — and he did not recognize him.

The new knights. The cold voice. The eyes with nothing familiar in them.

Perhaps they had lost the old king’s trust with the old king himself. Perhaps the new one had arrived at the throne already armed with a different set of loyalties.

“One more thing,” Appen said, turning to leave. “You asked about your father. Nothing has happened to him. He attended court this morning. As long as you eat, the Earl continues to be a loyal and useful nobleman.” He didn’t look back. “Stop the hunger strike. It helps neither of us. If you persist, I will be forced to take other measures.”

The door closed.

Otto stood at the bars for a long time after the footsteps faded, his hands still curled around the cold iron.

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