The footsteps came to a sudden stop. As if they had followed the sound of their own, and whoever it was, was now trying to localize them again.
Gandrett saw him first. Like a beam of light, he was staring down through the partially-lit corridor. His clothes a shade of golden brown as was his hair. She didn’t need to see his eyes to know it was him.
Then, Armand spotted him and drew his blade. “What are you doing here?”
Joshua Brenheran. She knew it was him not from his eyes alone but from the way he walked—like Brax. Thank Vala, he didn’t seem hurt. On the contrary, he appeared well—too well.
Also, he didn’t run from Armand even if the latter approached him with a blade in hand.
“Stay here,” Armand hissed at Gandrett, who had little time to even consider what was going on.
But she remained where she was, her eyes absorbing every detail, every last one of Joshua Brenheran’s graceful steps, as he walked up to Armand as if they were companions rather than enemies.
“Lord Hamyn asked me to deliver a message, Lord Armand.”
Gandrett’s blood froze, and Armand stopped a couple of steps away from Joshua Brenheran, his sword at the ready. “Speak,” he ordered, voice all commander and nothing like the Armand she had gotten to know, the one who grinned and smiled and joked, who disdained his own father for what he did to their homeland.
“He is waiting for you in his study,” Joshua said flatly. “He says it’s urgent.”
Armand nodded and dismissed the man, waiting for him to disappear behind the corner before he sheathed his sword and returned to Gandrett’s side. “I am sorry for the interruption, but it seems this cannot wait.”
The look on his face told her that he wasn’t at all in the mood to respond to his father’s call, but some part of him still had to be loyal despite how differently he saw things from his father.
“Who was that?” Gandrett asked, not ready to let the opportunity pass. Yes, she had stayed behind, observing only and trying to make sense of what she had witnessed, but couldn’t find one logical reason why Joshua Brenheran would be here willingly.
“Just a messenger.” Armand’s eyes, as flat as his voice, stared ahead rather than at her.
“He didn’t seem like just a messenger.” No. He seemed like the man she had come here to retrieve.
She laid a hand on Armand’s arm, bringing herself to smile at him with what she hoped was understanding. “Don’t worry about me,” she hoped she cooed. “Go. We can continue our tour tomorrow.” He turned to look at her, some light returning to his eyes. “I’ll find my way back on my own. Just back there, right?” She pointed in the opposite direction of the one where Joshua Brenheran had left. “Your father is waiting.”
He bought it even if his gaze remained an enigma in hazel.
Gandrett waited until his footsteps disappeared then wheeled around, gathered her skirts, and ghosted toward the corner Joshua Brenheran had turned, hoping to find a trace of where he might have gone.
She found herself in an empty corridor similar to the one she came from, but there were more doors and some alcoves hosting suits of armor probably as old as the castle itself. Yet, no sign of her target.
Her training set in as she screened the doors, the slits underneath, for signs of movement. Nothing.
She inched forward along the hallway, glancing out the window to check whether someone might see her from the yard, then moved closer to the side with the alcoves between the doors, making sure she didn’t get caught.
Then she heard footsteps again, not too far ahead. So she sped up, her own silk slippers almost soundless on the polished stone, and found Joshua’s outline descending a staircase.
She followed, leaving enough space so she wouldn’t give herself away but stayed close enough so she wouldn’t lose him. Down, down. They had to be on the ground floor by now, still descending. Then, the footsteps stopped.
Gandrett halted, holding her breath as she listened intently.
Nothing.
As she turned the next corner, he wasn’t in the dim, windowless corridor, which didn’t seem to lead to any kind of rooms.
She turned, checking behind her. Had she missed an exit?
Her breath slammed from her lungs as a rough hand wound around her throat, pulling her backward into the stone wall behind her.
“Why are you following me?” His voice was like ice as he leaned over her, his breath like a cloud of frost.
Gandrett’s hands shot up to fight off his iron grasp, but he was strong—
“Again. Why are you following me?”
She fought for air, gasped for it, but his fingers were too tight. The dagger. She had to get to that dagger before he—
“I should just snap your neck,” he mused, not reminding her even a fraction of what she had heard of him. “You’re lucky the lord’s son takes interest in you, or I actually would.”
Now. She had to do it now. With all of her concentration, she let go of his wrist, for pulling on it wouldn’t free her, and plunged her elbow into where she estimated his stomach to be.
His hand dropped, and he cursed—long strings of violent curses, including the mention of Shaelak.
“The god of darkness is not interested in me,” she snarled at him as she wheeled around, finding him doubled over. She had been lucky and hit the spot right between his ribs that made one want to hurl.
With fast fingers, Gandrett pulled up her skirt and drew the dagger.
It weighed comfortingly in her hand, the twirled hilt providing solid grip as she grabbed Joshua’s shoulder with her free hand, one foot hoisting him against the wall with a quick push. No time for artful combat. This wasn’t training. This was life and death.
Joshua cursed again as he noticed the blade at his throat.
“It would be easier to free you if you worked with me,” she said as she studied his surprise face.
Surprised and furious. No, he wasn’t the least bit concerned about the blade. Just… annoyed, it seemed.
“Joshua Brenheran.” Gandrett set her foot back on the ground, her eyes scanning the young man towering over her for weapons. He bore none. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”
He cocked his head, strain replacing his annoyance for a fraction of a second, but didn’t answer.
“Tell me if I’m wrong, and I’ll walk away,” Gandrett offered. But she knew by the sneer that graced his lips—Brax’s lips, Mckenzie’s lips—that she was right.
“Tell me,” his grin widened into a violent baring of his teeth. “How is my father doing? The old fool,” he hissed, hands balling into fists at his sides as he cursed yet again. This time there were syllables woven into the fluent string that she had never heard before—at least not when she’d been awake.
“Joshua?” As the first thrill of having found her target wore off, concern set in.
And fear.
Fear that finding Joshua Brenheran had been the easy part of her mission.
His hand knocked against the wall behind him. Knocked at first. Then, he slammed his knuckles into it until he was bleeding.
Gandrett leaped aside, her blade not moving an inch from his throat. What was he—?
She didn’t see it coming. With all her training, all her experience in bringing down warriors twice her size, she didn’t see it coming when his bloodied hand slammed into her nose, setting her face screaming with pain.