She no longer feared it, she ached for it.
That wicked heartbeat of hers began pounding harder, like an approaching war drum.
No last words were necessary. No need to write a note. Her family gave her no farewell; she would give them none.
The note, Adriel’s note.
Even now she didn’t want to read his parting words. That wasn’t her brother in the end. But the idea of having his words close as she ended things gave her comfort. She turned to reach for the foot of her bed.
Suddenly, she realized it had turned quiet outside—no voices, no laughing. Where were Cedric and Teirn?
She rose and moved to the entrance of the tent to peer out. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the distant tree line. She could have sworn she saw something moving there. Between wind-rustled leaves and shadows in the firelight, she saw it—glowing red eyes staring back at her.
She dashed back to her pallet, tucking under her covers once more, still clutching her knife.
This was it. They had come for her again. She was too late.
She closed her eyes tight.
Please, not like this.
She was so caught up in her own dread, it took a moment to notice the cool steel resting at her throat.Herknife was still on her chest, clasped hard between her blanching fingers.
She opened her eyes to the shadow of a hard face, a man’s face.
Dark eyes stared down at her, not red.
She shifted back to survey the massive body that had maneuvered its weight to hover above her.
“I’m going to need you not to scream,” his deep voice whispered.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
BEFORE
The weight of so many hours alone had been getting to her. There was only so much reading, writing, and schooling she could endure. At least she had discovered a passion for learning what she could in the south wing. It gave her motivation, tasks to complete. Every time she muddled herbs for medicine or folded linens, she at least felt like she was accomplishing something meaningful.
Aside from the healers’ wing, her favorite place to be was the stables. Riding was a hobby she still enjoyed, but she was only allowed outside for short periods, and she could never ride far, only within the grounds.
Perhaps a visit to Elsie would be what she needed to turn her mood around. Helaina went to the kitchen and grabbed some fruit and carrots while popping a few berries in her mouth. Toby would enjoy a snack. As beastly as her brother’s steed was, she envied his personality.
Wild and reckless, never submitting to anyone.
She wanted to be that way.
The same pair of guards trailed behind her. At least they adhered to her request and kept a good distance away. Personal space was a luxury she didn’t have much of, and she hated their hovering. As she turned into the stables, she heard a voice she didn’t recognize.
A boy’s voice—no, a man’s.
“There you go, girl. You deserve a treat too. Hey now, don’t be greedy, save some for me.”
She peered around the corner of the stall to witness her chestnut mare crunching down on a crisp apple offered from an outstretched hand.
The hand was rough and calloused. Young, though, too young to belong to Glennon Creed, the stable master that had worked here for her family since before she was born.
She leaned farther forward, unnoticed. He was older than her fourteen years but no older than her brother, she guessed. His entire body was hardworking—she could see the definition in his back through the thin white shirt. His hair was black and cut short. Tan pants hugged him perfectly. Even with the smudges and stains, he had a certain elegance about him.
Who was he?
