Free The Skylighter (The Keepers' Chronicles Book 2) by Becky Wallace Page A

spread to the rest of the prisoners and the garrison. You know how contagious it is, especially with the fall rainstorms finally starting.”
    Common tavern brawler. “Ceara, you know who I am. You know I don’t have marsh fever.”
    “One of my men, who was raised in Santiago, mistakenly identified a commoner as the young Lord DeSilva.” Ceara clicked his tongue. “That soldier is going to face an unfortunate accident tomorrow morning, and no one else will remember that a man matching your description was thrown into my prison. In a few days a corpse will be carted out of this cell and burned so that the marsh fever won’t continue to spread.”
    A tremor shook Rafi’s body that had nothing to do with his illness. “This isn’t funny, Ceara. People know where I am.”
    “That’s true.” Ceara’s shadow nodded. “Old Bartlett, who has no love for you or any of the DeSilvas, turned you in. Did you know his family was in Roraima when it fell? He always blamed your father for not going to King Wilhelm’s aid sooner. Not that anyone would believe anything Bartlett said about you. He’s taken one too many blows to the head.” Ceara chuckled and raised his hand to his left ear. “You may have noticed.”
    Sweat broke out along Rafi’s brow. He reached for his belt dagger, though he knew instinctively that it wasn’t there, and that even if it had been, he was in no condition to use it.
    “What I’m really interested in is the little beauty who accompanied you to Bartlett’s inn. What kind of girl could have drawn an honorable DeSilva away from his estate and his duties?”
    “She’s no one.” Rafi wished he could take the words back the instant they were out of his mouth. He sounded too defensive, too desperate.
    “Really? That is disappointing.” Ceara stepped back from the bars, almost disappearing from sight. “I’m afraid you’re alone in that estimation. I received a very interesting letter from the Duke of Belem. He asked me to send one of my . . . assistants . . . to Santiago to kidnap this girl, but you so kindly saved me the effort. When I deliver her to Belem’s estate, he’s promised me a little something in return.”
    Rafi knew the answer; it was the one thing that Ceara couldn’t simply take for himself. Still, he asked, “What did he promise you?”
    “All of Santiago.”
    Closing his eyes, Rafi wished he could slip into a nightmare. Bears and giants were preferable to the ringing echo of Ceara’s laugh.
    “It would be silly of me not to test the veracity of Belem’s claim. So I’m asking you one more time: Who is the girl you brought to Camaçari, and why does Belem want her?” Ceara reached his arm through the bars and held out a small glass vile. “In return for the information I’ll offer you a way to expedite your suffering. It’s a simple poison. Colorless. Tasteless. It takes about thirty minutes to stop a strong man’s heart.” He snapped his fingers, the sound reverberating off the stone walls. “And you drop dead. No one will ever guess how you died.”
    “Poison is a coward’s tool. Come slit my throat and be done with it.”
    Ceara snorted. “I’m certain your father would have said the same thing had he been given the chance.”
    A rush of anger lent strength to Rafi’s limbs. He lurched to his feet and took two steps before crashing against the bars. The material of Ceara’s tunic slipped through his fingers as the underlord skipped away.
    “Did you poison my father?” Rafi asked with a growl.
    “No. I wasn’t anywhere nearby when Camilio died.”
    Rafi’s legs buckled and he crumbled to the floor, his ears buzzing with untruth.
    “It’s so much cleaner to pay someone else to commit crimes in your name,” Ceara said, and laughed as Rafi attempted a weak swat through the bars.
    “Bastard.” He leaned against the cold iron, too dizzy and weak to move.
    Glass shattered above Rafi, shards raining down onto his unprotected head. A small