Page 107 of Bride of Ash & Dust

“More like we ran for our fucking lives,” Owain says.

“Ran? From what?” I hear myself ask. I feel like I’m floating in the night air, watching my body from the crowns of the trees.

Gerard turns to me, his hand warm against my arm.

“Vsenrog attacked us,” Gerard says, with a quick and somewhat nasty glance at Zarek. “A group of their soldiers set an ambush just after we crossed the border from Ethiria. They didn’t even bother to hide their colors.”

I try to speak, but no words come out.

This makes no sense. Vsenrog attacking the prince of Marion? That’s an act of war, not just against us, but against every one of the Seven Allied Kingdoms.

“And, Princess,” Gerard continues. “Your brother. He’s been injured.”

The night closes in around me. Gerard’s arm on mine is the only thing keeping me from collapsing.

“Take me to him,” I say in a jagged voice. “Please.”

My brother’s men-at-arms melt back into the night. There’s a whistle, the low murmur of conversation, and then Owain returns, leading a solid gray mare that I recognize from Marion’s stables. He bows deferentially as he hands the reins to me. I glance back at Zarek, who doesn’t meet my gaze.

He’s the one who should be riding. He’s in worse shape than me. Gods, he must be exhausted. Not to mention freezing.

But he’s supposed to be my guard, not my husband. And if I pay too much attention to the strange man who just held a dagger to Gerard’s throat, my brother’s men might start to suspect he’s more than just a guard.

My chest feels heavy as I pull myself into the mare’s saddle and follow Owain down the overgrown road to the abandoned royal hunting lodge. I glance over my shoulder as I pass beneath the burned pine tree and see Prince Syvan’s white stallion following me, like a ghost.

Chapter 59

Zarek

NO REASON TO TRUST YOU

Hunting camp. Right.

I shouldn’t be surprised. Lilias was raised in the palace of Marion. And Marion might be a small, strategically insignificant country, but a palace is a palace. And what my wife calls a hunting camp is what my parents would have called an estate.

As we emerge from the darkness beneath the trees, I count at least seven buildings. Lights are burning in the windows of the largest, the one that must have been where the king and his family stayed on their little hunting adventures. It’s a massive structure, four stories high, with walls made of huge logs and heavy stone chimneys. Those logs are significantly larger than any of the trees I’ve seen in the mountains of Marion; the king must have imported them when he built the place. Gods, that must have cost the moon and stars.

We draw closer, and I notice the first signs of neglect. Weeds grow through the front steps of the outbuildings. The glass in some of the windows is broken, leaving sharp edges to frame the darkness inside. But the main lodge is still intact, which makes me think the camp hasn’t been abandoned for long. Or perhaps Lilias’s brother was maintaining it somehow. But why?

Lilias jumps from her horse and rushes through the wide wooden doors of the lodge. The men around me disperse, some to take care of the horses, some into the lodge. No one seems particularly interested in me. That’s how much of a threat I am, I suppose.

I glance up at the night sky. The moon is low against the horizon, making it hard to tell if the thin gray light that spills over the eastern peaks is from the coming dawn or the setting moon. I sigh and try to ignore all the ways my body hurts. I feel like I’ve been traveling for years. Gods, I just want to walk into the stable, find an empty stall, and sleep for the next decade.

But that’s not what the princess’s guard would do. Hells, that’s not what the princess’s husband should do either.

So I pull myself together, walk up the steps of the lodge, and push the door open. I find a large common room filled with long wooden tables. Lanterns flicker from the walls, and the last embers of a fire flicker dully on a massive hearth. A few men sit at the tables, nursing cups of something that’s probably alcoholic, but they don’t pay any attention to me, so I don’t pay any attention to them.

There’s no sign of Lilias. She’s probably with her brother, and everything I know about royalty suggests he’ll be on the top floor, probably in the room with the best view. I keep my head down as I walk toward the staircase.

I’m on the third step when someone touches my arm. I spin, my hand dipping to my waist and the spot where my blade should be, and I see a woman frowning at me. She’s Lilias’s serving woman, the one my wife sent back for her cloak. She knows I’m no petty guard.

And she’s scowling at me. Great.

“Anura,” I whisper.

Anura’s frown deepens. She presses her lips together in a tight line as her hand closes around my arm. I keep quiet as she pulls me into the kitchen. It’s silent and dark in that cavernous room. The kitchen fires are cold, and the only light is the soft silver of the setting moon as it spills through the windows.

Anura turns to me with an expression I can’t quite make out. She crosses her arms over her chest.