Chapter 53: Alistair counts score
"Are you okay?" Cassian asked as he helped Alistair to his feet.
"I am..." Alistair turned to look at the treeline where his attacker had disappeared. "If you had not been there, I would be dead."
Cassian’s brow furrowed. "Why would anyone want you dead?"
Alistair let out a shaky breath, shaking his head slowly. "I do not know. I am just a healer’s apprentice. I have no enemies that I know of."
"You should report this to the guards. They can search the woods, find whoever it was."
Cassian made to turn away, but Alistair’s hand shot out, catching his sleeve.
"Prince Cassian."
Cassian paused, looking down at the hand on his arm, then back up at Alistair’s face.
"How are you feeling?" Alistair asked, his voice softer now. "After the poisoning. I have been meaning to ask, but you have been difficult to find."
Cassian’s expression softened. "I have been better, but I am recovering. I have you to thank for that."
"Actually..." Alistair let out a careful laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "If you do not mind, Prince Cassian... I would like to cash in on the favor you owe me for saving your life."
Cassian’s eyebrows rose. A slow smile spread across his face.
"I would think me saving yours just now is enough repayment."
Alistair did not meet Cassian’s eyes.
"I am just kidding, Alistair." Cassian’s voice broke the tension. "You should learn how to take a joke. What is it? What do you want?"
Alistair raised his head, meeting Cassian’s eyes directly.
"I want access to the archive room."
The smile on Cassian’s face faltered. His brow creased, and he took a half-step back, his arms crossing over his chest.
"The archive room? Why would I give you that?"
Alistair had prepared for this question. He had rehearsed it a hundred times in his head. He let his gaze drop to the ground, let his shoulders slump and let his voice go raw.
"My family was killed by the rogue king’s men when I was a child," he began. "I was the only one who survived. I have spent my whole life not knowing where I came from, not knowing my lineage, not knowing what pack I belonged to before I was orphaned."
He paused, letting the weight of his words hang between them.
"Recently, I came across information that suggests my family might have been part of this pack before they left on a trip and never returned. I just want to know my lineage, Prince Cassian. I want to know what I stand for as a wolf. I want to know where I came from."
There was silence for a moment before Cassian responded.
"I understand," He said quietly. "More than you know."
Alistair kept his eyes on the ground, not daring to hope too openly.
"When would you like to see it?" Cassian asked.
Alistair’s head snapped up. "If it is perfectly fine with you... tonight?"
Cassian considered this.
"Tonight does not work for me," he said finally. "But how about tomorrow, early? I will meet you in front of the archive room. You know I cannot let you wander alone in there, but my presence will be enough for you to bypass any questions that will be asked."
Alistair bowed low, letting the gratitude flood his voice.
"Thank you, Prince Cassian. You have no idea what this means to me."
"Get that side looked at," Cassian said, nodding toward Alistair’s ribs. "And try to stay out of trouble until tomorrow."
He turned and walked away.
Alistair watched him go, the mask of gratitude still fixed firmly on his face, until Cassian disappeared around the corner of the drying shed.
Then he let the mask drop.
He straightened slowly, pressing his hand to his aching ribs, and allowed himself a small, cold smile.
If he had not been attacked, he would not have been able to ask which was a goo thing.
Speaking of the attack, he frowned.
There was only person who would want him dead so desperately and would be so reckless.
Alistair chuckled to himself.
"So Soren wants me dead," he murmured to the empty garden. "Hmm. Interesting."
He picked up the fallen bucket, collected the scattered moonroot, and began walking back toward the healing chambers. His mind was already spinning ahead, weaving contingencies.
Tomorrow. He thought. He would have access tomorrow.
And then Soren, that bastard would hear from him.
...
"Did you just say," Soren’s voice was low as he spoke, "that you failed to carry out my task?"
The man’s head remained bowed. "Yes, my lord. I am sorry."
"You are sorry." Soren repeated the words in a chuckle. "I sent you to eliminate one man. A healer and you could not do it."
"My lord, I had him. The blade was at his throat but Prince Cassian appeared from nowhere. He interrupted the attack. I could not risk hurting the prince. I had to flee before he recognized me."
"Cassian was there?" Soren asked in surprise.
"Yes, my lord."
"And you swear he did not see you?"
The man nodded.
"I made sure of that."
Soren closed his eyes.
Fuck, this was a disaster. Alistair was alive and it would not take him long to piece together who had tried to kill him and the only person who had both motive and opportunity would be the Beta whom he had by the balls.
Soren turned his back on the man.
"You have compromised everything," he said.
"I can try again, my lord. Give me another chance. I will find him when he is alone. I will..."
"You will do nothing." Soren stopped him. "We have lost the element of surprise. He will be waiting for another attack."
Soren walked toward the man, stopping in front of him.
"Rise" he said.
The man got to his feet, his head still bowed.
"Who have you told about this?"
The man looked up sharply. "No one, my lord. I would never... you have my loyalty."
Soren looked at him for a long moment before he sighed.
"And I am grateful for your loyalty. Your family will be rewarded for your service."
Before the man could piece together what Soren meant, his hand clamped over the man’s jaw, forcing his head back.
The letter opener he had picked up before rising from his chair to approach the man found the soft flesh of his throat and slid in cleanly.
The man’s body convulsed. His hands flew up, clawing at Soren’s arms as blood spilled down his neck, soaking his collar.
Soren held him there, watching the light fade from his eyes.
It took less than a minute.
When it was done, Soren released his grip. The body slid down the wall and crumpled to the floor.
Soren looked down at the corpse, then at the letter opener in his hand.
He would have to dispose of the body personally. There was the old well behind the eastern ridge. No one had used it in ages so it would be the perfect place to throw a body.
Then he would have to think of another way to deal with Alistair before he decided to deal with him first.