It was Oliver’s dagger.
wasMaximilian retrieved it from Alys’ boot when she fell asleep after their lovemaking. He had hoped to be wrong. He had hoped the mark on her leg had some other explanation. When his fingers closed around the cold hilt in the shadowed depth of the boot, his heart stopped with conviction of what he would see. He pulled it out and stared at it, willing it to be something other than what it was.
So, somehow, she had gained the blade from Nyssa and Ceara. Somehow she was in contact with them, and somehow they contrived together to see to his end. ’Twas a bitter realization and one Maximilian struggled to accept.
He did not know how long he stood there, but the rain had started to pound on the roof of the tent, and was gaining in intensity. He straightened, surveyed
