Her throat seized. What would happen to her if the truth ever came out?
Chapter eleven
Bythetimedawnrose on Thursday, Emmaline had convinced herself she was ready.
She had spent all of Wednesday avoiding everyone—not because she had a plan, but because she didn’t. The last couple of days had unraveled everything she thought she knew, leaving her spinning.
So she had done the only thing that made sense. She hid. Ursula had called twice before finally demanding confirmation that she would attend their monthly ladies’ night on Friday. Isolde had also been easy enough to avoid, having spent most of the day out shopping. Emmaline had no desire to face the woman’s smug expression after falling so easily for her trick and, for once, was grateful for the woman’s extravagant spending habits.
Deyric, however, had been the real challenge. Every time she thought of him, a mess of conflicting emotions threatened to surface, and she had no interest in deciphering what they meant. The best course of action had been to act as though their encounter in the woods had never happened… and run away anytime she caught a flash of green hair in her peripheral vision.
Even Caelith, the person she had risked everything to find, had been avoided. Instead of seeking him out, she had locked herself in her office, poring over work, immersing herself in numbers andreports. When the time came to leave the castle, she slipped out through the discreet side entrance Lord Greymane used to sneak his mistresses in and out, unwilling to risk running into anyone. It had been reckless but necessary.
She had needed time to regain control of herself. Now, though, she was ready.
The Skyglider moved with a steady hum beneath her seat, floating smoothly over the well-worn roads that connected the Vale. Powered by fae magic and ancient levitation stones, the public carriage was the fastest way to travel across the city’s vast landscape. Emmaline tightened her grip on the brass handle near her seat, watching the rolling hills and towering ironwood trees blur past the enchanted windows.
She had to accept that the universe seemed intent on testing her resolve. Every attempt to reach Caelith had been thwarted, but she refused to see it as a sign that she was wrong. Instead, she chose to believe that this was all part of some grand romantic test, one meant to prove her worthiness. The alternative was too horrible to consider.
The thought unsettled her enough that she barely noticed when the Skyglider jolted to a stop. A massive Grimgor, a thick-trunked, tusked fae dressed in a pinstriped suit, stepped aboard, carrying a briefcase far too small for his enormous hands. Without hesitation, he dropped in beside her, the edge of his case knocking into her ribs as he adjusted his position.
She scowled and shifted away as much as the cramped bench allowed, but the real irritation wasn’t the elbow jabbing into her side. It was the flashes of emerald-green eyes and strong arms that keptinvading her thoughts, unbidden and unwanted. She clenched her jaw, exhaling through her nose.
This was not the time to let her mind wander. Today, she would find Caelith, and everything would finally make sense.
The Skyglider gave a soft chime as it eased to a stop at the station. The doors swung open, and cool morning air rushed in as Emmaline worked her way through the crowd to exit onto the worn stone platform. She stretched briefly, rolling the tension from her shoulders.
Greymane Castle stood in the distance, perched atop its usual fog-laced hill, its imposing silhouette framed against the pale morning sky. The air here carried the crisp scent of damp stone and ironwood bark, tinged with the faintest trace of rain from the night before. It was quiet, with only the occasional rustling of leaves or the distant sound of hooves breaking the silence.
She adjusted her dress and started forward, setting a steady pace along the cobbled path leading toward the castle gates. One conversation with Caelith, one chance to prove what she already knew in her heart, and everything would fall into place. It had to.
Emmaline closed the distance to the front gates, her determined strides slowing as the unmistakable shape of a Patrol Glider came into view. The sleek, obsidian carriage hovered just inches above the ground, its polished surface reflecting the morning light. Sigils glowed softly along its curved edges, pulsing with the slow, steady rhythm of active enchantments. The doors were shut, but the presence of the vehicle alone was enough to send a jolt of dread through her chest.
And just like that, all her careful preparation and every bit of reassurance she had fed herself on the way here vanished.
They’re here.
Her heart pounded, and her feet dragged against the path, instincts warring between freezing in place and turning on her heel. Should she go home? Call in sick? No. That would look suspicious.
She pushed herself forward, each step heavier than the last.
Do they know she’s dead? Or do they just think she’s missing?
Ursula had removed the body and scrubbed away every trace of blood, but magical residue was harder to erase. Plus, death left echoes, a psychic imprint in the very grass, a whisper of a soul’s violent departure, or so the stories claimed.
Hesitating as she reached the glider, she peered through the window.
It was empty. A slow exhale left her lips, tension bleeding from her shoulders. She was overreacting. Ursula knew her business. She knew how to clean up a crime scene.
Besides owning one of the hottest clubs in the Vale, Ursula sat comfortably at the center of a thriving black market that catered to those with a taste for the darker side of magic. If you had the coin, you could buy anything from bottled nightmares to soul-binding pacts. Some even whispered that, hidden beneath the thrumming music and glamour of her establishment, Ursula’s true business lay in bloodier, more permanent… dealings, as if she ran an assassin’s guild or something.
Emmaline had always thought that part was a bit ridiculous. But standing in front of a Patrol Glider, trying to steady her breathing, she suddenly hoped it was true.
“Hey, you’re Emmaline, right?”
The voice interrupted her spiraling, sending a new spike of fear through her spine. She turned as a Patrol officer approached, clad in the crisp uniform of the city guard.
“You teach that finance class at Rider School, right? Healer Cassidy’s friend?”
