Page 15 of Blood Curse

A heavy knock carried through Harrowmere.

The house answered by flaring every lamp between the King’s rooms and the main gate.

Stellan rose. “Mara has finished being patient.”

“Was she ever good at it?” I asked.

“Not in my experience.”

Lenora picked up the medical case. “I’ll secure this. You two answer the door.”

“You’re not coming?”

“The Crown can’t command me, which makes me useful elsewhere. Also, if Mara survived serving Stellan, she can probably survive meeting you without supervision.”

She left before he could object.

I stood. My knees held this time.

Stellan offered his hand. “Ready?”

“No, but she’s already knocked.”

“That’s usually how doors work.”

“Keep testing my patience and you can explain the Crown alone.”

His mouth curved. “There you are.”

We followed the lit corridor together. The Crown stayed cold, listening without taking anything.

“What was Mara to you?” I asked.

“Commander of the outer guard. My most reliable source of unwelcome truths.”

“You must have adored her.”

“Frequently from the other side of a locked door.”

His humour faded as the entrance hall came into view. “She tried to reach me after Cecily died. Adrian’s wards turned her back. If she believed I was dead, someone made sure she had reason.”

“Then she may be angry with the wrong person.”

“Mara has never restricted herself to one person when several are available.”

I stopped before the main doors and turned to him. “Are you all right?”

“No.” He glanced at our joined hands. “But I want to open the door.”

“Then we open it.”

We crossed the last stretch of the entrance hall slowly enough for the weakness in my legs to become obvious. Stellan noticed but didn’t offer to carry me. He shortened his stride, and I used his hand when I needed it. By the time we reached the doors, I was moving under my own power again.

At the main doors, Harrowmere waited for me.

I put my palm to the stone. The locks turned.

The woman outside was tall, travel-stained and armed with enough steel to start a private war. Wind pulled loose strands from her dark braid. Her black coat was ripped at one shoulder, and dried blood marked the cuff.