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Mrs. Southwick began to protest, but Killian kissed her on the cheek.
“I’ll be back this afternoon,” he told her. He tried his best to school his features into nonchalance, but Mrs. Southwick didn’t seem convinced.
“Where are you going?” she called after him as he marched toward the door. “What did the letter say?”
Killian paused before the front door, his hand landing lightly on the handle. He turned back to his mother, who sat at the table with her mouth open, a crease between her brows. Killian knew she’d worried over him these past few months, and that he’d done nothing to quell her anxieties. If anything, hiding away in his room and disappearing into the forest for hours at a time had only made things worse.
He sighed as his heart sank. Killian was all she had left, and he had been lost in his own world, obsessing over Elyse. He would have to do better by her. But for now, he could tell her a little white lie, couldn’t he? If only to make her feel better?
He forced a smile on his face and softened his eyes. “It’s about a job,” he said with false cheer. The lie made him nauseous, but he couldn’t very well tell her the truth.
Mrs. Southwick’s entire countenance changed as her face lit up and her shoulders relaxed. “A job? Where?”
Her excitement ate at him. Killian held up a hand to stop her. “Mum, I promise I’ll tell you all about it later, but for now, I want to take a walk and clear my head.” He said the words gently, then added sincerely, “I love you.”
A smile rippled across his mother’s face, genuine and pure. “I love you too—even if you are a pain in my behind.”
Killian chuckled as he reached for cloak, then turned back to the door and flung it open. For the first time in months, he marched into the street with a spring in his step as hope fluttered in his heart.
Chapter 2
- Elyse -
The morning was quiet—just as quiet as it had been these past few months. Elyse stared out the enormous window of the country estate, taking in the picturesque lake that spanned the landscape. She blew on her tea, which she held cupped between both hands, and then took a small sip, savoring the bitter yet familiar taste of citronascia.
These peaceful moments were all that kept her sane. Every morning, she lay in bed until the sun fully illuminated her chambers, then she padded down to the kitchen, steeped her tea, and stared out the window.
She realized several weeks earlier that she never looked to the sky to determine the weather. No, she looked to the lake. Some days, the water was nearly blinding, and she had to blink away the glaring sunshine. Other days, the lake’s surface was calmer, reflecting the clouds that strolled lazily overhead. And still other mornings, the waters were dark, churning in anticipation of a storm.
For a moment, Elyse would take it all in, rejoicing in the mild weather, or lamenting a stormy day. Then realization would set in, gripping her in its cold, bony hand. Realization that the weather had no bearing on Elyse or her plans for the day. She was to be cooped up in this house for the foreseeable future. And then she would sigh and retire to her chambers, or the library, or one of the other lavish but impersonal rooms. Her heart sank.
The country estate was far more glamorous than her small cottage, but that was little consolation after two months of solitude. At least at her cottage, she would be surrounded by her own things—things that reminded her of her childhood and her mother. Things that brought her joy: her favorite blanket, even if it was faded and worn; her spell book, with its folded corners marking her favorite spells, and notes in the margin; and her obstacle course, where she could immerse herself in training for hours.
She tried not to think about what had happened to all of her belongings. There was no point in fretting over things out of her control—at least, no more than she already did.
Every time she closed her eyes, the same face drifted into her mind. Killian’s expression of anger and hurt played over and over, endlessly breaking her heart.
No matter how much time passed, it still felt fresh, like a wound that refused to heal. It had been two months since Killian tried to arrest her for murdering King Cyril. Since she had magicked herself to Jaime’s doorstep, bleeding and desperate. Since she had nearly died trying to escape the only man she’d ever trusted.
She’d collapsed into darkness, giving in to the pain. For hours, or perhaps days, she had seen nothing but Killian’s face, the cold stare and tight jaw and utter pain in his eyes. When she awoke, groggy from a drug-induced stupor, she had been alarmed to find herself in an unknown bed, blinking at an unknown ceiling. She’d been even more alarmed to hear a man’s voice speak gently to her.
“You’re awake.”
Jaime Lindgren, her former lover.
Reality had flooded Elyse like waves crashing over a broken levee, threatening to send her back into an oblivion that hovered between nightmare and denial. But Jaime brought her a glass of water and sat patiently while she slowly caught her breath, giving her the space to collect herself. He ran his hand through his blond hair, glancing anxiously at her as if she might fall back asleep. Finally, Elyse set the empty glass down, and Jaime began to explain everything.
“You were in a bad way,” he’d said softly, and Elyse had to look away. Too much concern filled his gaze, reminding her of others she’d hurt. “You had an arrow in your arm, and a poorly healed wound on your wrist. It looked like…”
His words trailed off. It looked like exactly what had happened: she had cut off her own hand to escape the magic-suppressing shackles, then hastily reattached it. Heat seared her cheeks, and she chanced a glance at Jaime. His light skin was even paler than usual, his blue eyes rimmed with dark circles, and his expression conveyed horror.
“I brought you here, to one of my properties outside the capital,” he continued after a moment. “No one knows you’re here, and well…” He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “This estate isn’t exactly titled in my name. One of the perks of the trade,” he’d chuckled.
Jaime had made quite a fortune for himself, traveling and collecting magical artifacts and knowledge. Elyse didn’t know the details, aside from some of the adventures he’d recounted for her, but she wasn’t surprised to hear he had made some off-the-books purchases.
Then Jaime reached out his hand and laid it atop hers. It was warm and soothing, a feeling that Elyse didn’t deserve.
“You’re safe here,” he’d said, and Elyse couldn’t hold it together anymore.
