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She nodded and backed out of the hug. “I have to go. Thank you, Amaris.”
“Anything for you, sister.”
Riona waited until Amaris had disappeared up the stairs before stepping through the front door. Aeron was leaning against one of the stone pillars that bracketed the entryway, twisting a wilting Selannic lily between his thumb and forefinger. He dropped it when he saw her.
“Where have you been? I’ve been worried—”
“We found Faylen,” he blurted. “She’s alive, and she has the missing treasury documents. We must ride to Crafford right now.”
She stopped dead. “Youfound her?”
Aeron nodded, his expression tight. “One of my men spotted her at the port, trying to convince any captain who would listen to give her passage to the Isles. He set her up in a tavern not far from the harbor, said you’d pay her fare if she told you what she knows about Cathal’s murder, and she agreed. She will speak only with you.”
“Why did he not hire a carriage to bring them here?”
“She refuses to return to the city. Claims that the person who murdered Cathal is searching for her, and she won’t risk her babe’s life. I have horses waiting. We can go now.”
Crafford was four hours away, and if they left now, they wouldn’t arrive until four or five in the morning. Even if they only spent an hour speaking to Faylen, they wouldn’t return to Innislee until almost midday. The Creator only knew what her father and uncle would do if they woke to find her missing.
Still, she did not hesitate. “Let me grab my things.”
She slipped into the house and crept up the stairs as quickly and quietly as she could. In her room, she grabbed her coin purse and all the money she had at her disposal. Then she scrawled a note promising that she would be back the next day and slipped it under Amaris’s door on her way out.
When she left, Aeron led her down the road to a tavern where he had tied up two horses. “Calanthe,” he said as he handed her the reins to a tall black mare. As he swung up onto his slate gray stallion, his cloak parted to reveal the handle of a sword sheathed at his hip, one he must have stolen from the castle’s armory. The sight sent a chill down Riona’s spine. “I’d recommend you keep your hood up and your head down, my lady. It’d be best to avoid any city watchmen recognizing you.”
Riona obeyed, and they set off, their horses’ hooves clacking loudly against the cobbles. The city never truly slept—there were still plenty of carriages and riders on the roads, and boisterous crowds lingering just outside the taverns they passed—but Aeron was still careful to keep them to narrow, twisting side roads. Riona sat hunched in her saddle, tensing every time she caught a glimpse of a city watchman’s uniform. Thankfully, they were few and far between. Still, it was all she could do to keep from checking over her shoulder every few seconds, expecting to find her father or a royal guard racing after them.
It was only when they reached one of the city gates that she allowed herself to look back. The castle sat high on its perch over the city, its sturdy gray walls and proud turrets stretching into the nighttime sky. Warm golden light bled from its windows. Despite everything, part of her wanted to send Aeron to fetch Auberon. Riona smothered the urge. She had grown too used to his presence, too reliant on his cocky grins and smart-mouthed remarks chasing away her growing sense of hopelessness. She had chosen to end their alliance, and for good reason. He had been a means to an end, and nothing more.
She dug her heels into her mare’s sides and followed Aeron out of the city.
* * *
The sky was still dark when Crafford appeared before them, smoke rising from the chimneys of its sturdy wooden houses. Beyond the peaked roofs, Riona could see the stormy gray expanse of the Tranquil Sea, reflections of the stars sparkling on its waves. The suitors’ ships were docked in the harbor, their sheer size dwarfing the fishing boats to either side of them. Her gaze snagged on Erduria’s double-headed eagle crest, and she pushed thoughts of Auberon away for what felt like the hundredth time since they’d left the capital.
She focused her attention on Aeron as he led her through the outskirts of the town. It was better that they had come alone, even if it meant she’d been forced to endure four hours of riding in relative silence. For all his faults, at least Auberon provided plenty of commentary.
It wasn’t long before Aeron stopped in front of a simple two-story tavern. After tying up their horses, he led her inside and up to one of the rooms on the second floor, where he knocked on the door in a peculiar way—three short raps, then a pause, and one more. A few heartbeats later, it swung open to reveal a young elven woman in a worn tunic and skirt, her long brown hair falling in tousled waves around her shoulders.
Riona’s breath caught at the sight of her.
Faylen’s fair skin was mottled with green and yellow bruises. Her nose had been broken, and it sat among a sea of bruises and shallow cuts. A fresh scar cut across the edge of her narrow jaw, hooking up across her cheek. More gashes crisscrossed her bare forearms and hands, but they were not what Riona’s gaze focused on as it swept over her body. It was the curve of Faylen’s round belly, heavy with child.
“Were you followed?” the elf asked, leaning forward to peer into the hall.
“No,” Aeron said. “Faylen, this is Lady Riona Nevis. My lady, Faylen.”
She studied Riona for what felt like an eternity, then opened the door wide. “Come in, then. I’ll tell you everything.”
ChapterForty
The Liar
“It’s not every day I get to speak to a real-life blood mage.” Auberon sat back on the settee and crossed his arms, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Lucky me.”
Valerian held his stare, the light from the sitting room’s hearth playing across his features. “Would you rather be back in the infirmary?”
“Is that a threat?”
