His magic resonated in the air long after the wall had grown. Gandrett could almost taste it. She hadn’t been able to in the desert. Perhaps because of the wind relentlessly carrying away any fragrance. But now, it was clearly there, the scent of his magic, a mysterious layer, hovering above her and enclosing her as she stretched out on her bedroll, too, the blade in her bodice a constant reminder of his fingers, of the gentle tug on her clothes as he’d sheathed it.
For a long while, she lay there listening to the sounds of the forest until the horses had fallen silent, until she could no longer remember the whistle of the biting winds of Calma.
It was only when her eyelids drooped that Nehelon murmured, “Promise me something, Gandrett.” Her eyes flew open at the sound of his voice, but she didn’t dare speak. “Promise me you’ll return from Eedwood.”
“I have a bargain with Lord Tyrem,” she simply said. “It is in my best interest to return with Joshua Brenheran safe and sound.”
“I know you do. But that’s not what I mean.” He sighed. A deep and heavy sound as if he was trying to escape centuries of memories. “Promise me you’ll return to me.”
Part II
A Court of Deceit
Chapter Twenty-Four
Down, down the slippery stairs, down, down into the dark, Addie Blackwood chanted in her mind as she followed the rough steps that led to the hidden well. Her hands weren’t shaking with fear the way they had that first time. After a year at lady Linniue’s household, she had gotten used to the darkness that veiled the woman. That veiled the whole damn court.
Addie’s steps echoed in the stone shaft leading under the north tower of Eedwood castle. Eedwood fortress would be more suitable. For that’s what it was. A fortress, impenetrable from the outside, inescapable from the inside.
She couldn’t count the times she’d tried. Tried and failed. Failed and been punished for her recklessness.
If she had a choice, she’d rather return to her prison in the north. Where the nights were frosty and dark and the days even colder.
Addie glanced at the wet stone beneath her boots, her hands clutching the bucket she was to fill for the lady. Every day a couple of times. That was the only thing she was allowed to leave Lady Linniue’s wing of the castle for.
She couldn’t remember when she had last set foot outside the castle. Cross the courtyard under the disdainful glances of the Denderlain guards, yes. But that was about it. The only time she saw the fields and forests was through the windows and glimpsed the sea in the east…
The East Sea sparked like molten gold in the morning sun whenever she made it to the highest windows of the north tower. There, she was alone—really alone. Not the way she was alone when she slept on a sack of straw by the fire in the servants’ dormitory. Slaves’ dormitory.
Today, she hadn’t made it there in time to take a breath and clear her mind before she returned to the tedious chores she was expected to do—and did for Lady Linniue Denderlain.
The surface of the water rippled in circular lines as she dipped the bucket in to fill it up for the second time today. The first time, she had spied Lord Hamyn and his son as they were mounting their horses to go on the annual hunt in honor of Demea. How she hated the goddess of the hunt.
Armand, in his hunting jacket, his hounds barking and howling from excitement. He had raised his hand, and the party had set in motion. She didn’t know why they still bothered to go on that specific hunt when they were hunting every day. Not wolves, like this tradition demanded, but people.
The innocent souls of Sives who didn’t declare loyalty to House Denderlain as so many of the families in the heart of Sives never would.
Sometimes she watched the smoke rise behind the edges of the forests when she directed her eyes west, toward her home.
But today, Addie Blackwood did not dare look east, for she knew what would happen if Hamyn and Armand Denderlain brought back the wolf as planned—
There would be a feast. And a dance. And the highlight of the celebrations would be the heads of those noble men and women their mercenaries had collected over the winter, and who were now starving in the cells under the castle—fortress. No way in. No way out. Unless you wore the blue and yellow coat of armor of House Denderlain.
Addie shuddered, pulled out the heavy bucket, and made her ascent back to daylight.
Gandrett ran. She ran as she had never run before, the dress restricting her from gulping enough air down and the dagger strapped to the inside of her thigh making her grit her teeth when it hit her knee every time she made a turn. Behind her, paws dug into the moist forest ground, claws slithering over tree trunks as the wolf pushed her to her limits, herding her.
Vala help her, Nehelon was right when he said that there would be a moment she’d hate him. Last night, he said it when she had asked why he wanted her to promise.
Right now was that moment. Not that she hadn’t hated him before. That’s how it had started off in Everrun. That’s how it had remained until that moment when he had let her glimpse that there was so much more than the emotionless bastard he let on. Then, her stomach had started doing weird things.
As for now—she hated him again. Why couldn’t she just fight the wolf and bring him down? Why wait for Armand and his hunting party to come rescue her? What if they never came?
A growl, too close to let her think of anything but how to put one steady foot ahead of the other, shattered through the trees, and the beast was before her. Gandrett jammed her boots into the ground, almost losing balance, knees barking when she came to a sudden halt.
The wolf had cut her off, forcing her to either run back toward where she had left Lim in a clearing Nehelon said was safe. The hunting party would stop by there, he’d said, and find her abandoned horse as the first clue there was something wrong. She had made sure to leave footprints in the direction Nehelon had pointed, and it hadn’t taken long for the gray-furred beast to show up. The Fae male had done a job better than promised. It will look as if the wolf was really about to kill you.
Gandrett frowned and reached for the bow he’d handed her this morning, pulled an arrow from the quiver and nocked it, eyes on the gaping maw of the beast.
Tried to.
The bow snapped in two halves where Nehelon had said it would.
Damn you, Fae bastard! Where was the Denderlain hunting party?
The wolf had been chasing her for too long to believe Denderlain would find her easily.
And it was coming closer, head lowered, eyes gleaming with bloodlust. Gandrett went through her training in her mind. She had never fought wild animals—other than the adolescent boys at the priory.
With the arrow in her hand and the few in her quiver, she would be able to wound the beast enough to enrage it, but not defeat it. Not without the bow Nehelon had manipulated to break.
I have confidence in your skills. He’d smiled at her, a ghost of that cocky grin from their first encounter making his eyes gleam.
Maybe he had confidence. As for Gandrett—her hands were shaking as she debated how much longer she could go without pulling that knife from her cleavage. It was a last resort. Weapons should remain hidden so Denderlain wouldn’t get suspicious. That’s why he hadn’t given her the hunting knife she’d asked for to strap to her belt, so she appeared even more like she had no clue what she was doing. No threat. A harmless lady in need of Denderlain’s aid.