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“Go.” Gram almost pushed him out the door. “I will see what I can do to aid your search.”
“Don’t expect much. They weren’t helpful when I sought them out.”
“I did not give up everything when I wed your grandfather, Conor. There are still those I can call on. Especially once they know for whom you seek.”
“I told you, Gram. I’ll face Asher on my own. My blade never touches Ellery, do you hear me? She’s no part of this fight.”
Gram nodded her understanding.
Conor breathed in, centering his mind on the creature inside him. Focusing on the shift. Feeling his body respond. He would need every trait of the Heller to track Ellery. Hunt her down before the Keun Marow did. Bring her home.
Jamys looked up, his bloodshot eyes glazed with remorse. “So she was right? You really mean to try and defeat Asher on your own?”
Already hovering between man and wolf, Conor’s concentration faltered. He swung his smoldering gaze toward his cousin. “Defeat him or die in the attempt.” He stalked toward the door, turning back at the last moment. “Unless you’ve got a better suggestion.”
Where had this damn fog come from? Ellery raised her lantern, its meager light doing little more than reflecting off the wall of damp, swirling cloud.
She’d avoided the main carriage drive, hoping to use the track Conor had told her passed through the orchards before coming out at the edge of the village crossroads. But the fog obscured every landmark. She was sure she’d passed that grove of trees once already. And that outcropping of rock looked vaguely familiar. She was going in circles.
She tried searching the skies for some point to guide her, but the moon had yet to rise, and the stars that were visible seemed off-kilter. Not quite where they were supposed to be from one minute to the next.
She swung the lantern to the left. Then to the right, praying she caught sight of something familiar. Something that would lead her to the village and the road away from here.
As if her presence had stirred the woods to life, the dark suddenly seemed alive. Listening. Waiting. Conor had spoken of the fey who shared Daggerfell’s lands. Would their appearance be help or hindrance? Or was this them at all?
A shape rose up out of the dark like a specter. Dear God. Asher. He’d come back. Or was it Conor seeking her? Either one was a death sentence.
A sob tore up her throat as she spun around, dashing back the way she’d come. Roots and limbs reached for her, wet and slippery leaves set her careening into a stand of holly trees. She ripped herself free, ignoring the stinging pain that followed, dropping the lantern.
She was blind. Out of breath. Her side cramped. She tripped and fell into the base of a fence. Picking herself up, she followed the line, using the posts as guides. Coming to a stile, she scrambled up and over. Then dodged back under the solid wooden stair. There was a space just large enough to fit between the fence and the risers. She crammed herself as far into the hole as she could, clutching her bundle to her chest, using it to muffle the sound of her ragged breathing. They would pass her by. They must.
No leaves rustled. No footsteps sounded. If only her power was invisibility. That would be a magic worth having right now.
“Ellery.” Conor’s voice floated out of the fog. Deeper than she remembered. Thick and raspy as if speaking were difficult. “Ellery. It’s me. Don’t run. I won’t hurt you.”
Not yet. But give him until Beltane and all bets were off. She wasn’t saying anything.
“Ellery. Answer me.”
He was right overhead. She tried holding her breath. Closing her eyes as if that would make her disappear.
“I know Jamys told you about the reliquary.”
A thump echoed above her head. Then another. Had he settled himself on the stile? She was trapped. She couldn’t make a run for it. He’d be on her like a hound on a hare. Like a wolf on a panicked rabbit. And all the knives in the world wouldn’t be enough to stop him.
“I won’t lie,” he continued. “Not now. It’s true. That’s why I sought you out.”
With each word Conor spoke, a warmth seeped deeper through her body. Her limbs felt heavy. Weighted. She tried not to listen to the steady drone of his voice, knowing that he used it to charm her, control her. Like he had those men in the tavern. She shook her head as if she could shake free of him.
“Damn it, Ellery. I have to stop his bid for power. To stop the destruction that will follow if he frees his brothers. The Triad…”
He stopped speaking, but his words rolled in her head like endless echoes. Like the sea. She wanted to hear more. Her control faltered. She touched a hand to the bottom of the riser. Only the thickness of one plank kept her from him. From that voice.
“I can’t go through with it.” His words slammed into her with the force of bullets. “I won’t.”
The need to reach him rushed out like a receding wave, leaving her head pounding. His words had no power. Her mind—complete with headache—was her own.
“I’d already decided. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I’ll handle Asher my way.”
