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“I’m done. I’ll learn no more of use.”
She glanced up at him with eyes dull and glassy, then down at her feet. Then scanned the sea as if salvation lay just out of reach.
He touched her mind, hoping to catch a hint of her thoughts, but nothing stood out sharp enough from the whirl of emotions for him to catch hold of. That she was upset, nervous and afraid was clear. Why—beyond the obvious—remained a mystery. But at least she was talking to him again.
“Walk with me.” He pushed off the rock. Straightened.
“I’ve one more stone to check at the southern edge of the property.”
She fell in beside him, years on the march giving her a long stride that easily matched his own. That thought reassured him. She was a product of the Army. Used to loss. The uncertainty of battle. Death. That’s what he tried telling himself, even if he didn’t wholly believe it.
As they walked, she kept her eyes focused on the track. Jaw set. Chin up. Whatever gnawed at her, she was fighting back. Holding her own.
He decided to break the silence. She hadn’t hunted him down without a purpose. Maybe she just needed some nudging to open up. “You needed to speak with me? What is it? Not getting cold feet, are you?” He offered her a game smile.
She returned it with a tepid curve of her lips, but her gaze now was razor-edged and battle-ready. Whatever inner war she’d been waging, she’d won. Hands down. “Put off this battle with Asher. At least until you’ve spent more time researching the archives. There has to be a less costly way to end this.”
This was an order. Plain and simple. And despite what Ellery thought, he’d never been good at taking orders. He bristled. “No.” Stepping up his pace, he left her behind.
“But why not?” She jogged to catch up. “You can’t just dismiss me with a no and think I’ll let it go.”
“We’ve gone over this a thousand times, Ellery. I’ve explained it to you. Asher cannot be allowed to continue unchecked.” He plucked a broken branch from the ground, swung it at the trees as he walked. “He must be dealt with. Otherwise, he’s always a threat. And the Triad’s return will hang over both mortal and fey like Damocles’ sword.”
“I’m not saying ignore his threat. But you have the reliquary. You’ve said you wait for the turn of the seasons. But the seasons turn every three months. Midsummer. Autumn. The winter solstice.” Her breath grew heavy as she held to his speed. “You can delay, and perhaps you and your mother will have found the answers by then.”
“It must end now. I can’t—” They broke from the trees out into a wide rocky field. The sun had pierced the haze of morning, and he paused, squinting against the blaze of light that met him.
Ellery took that moment to grab him by the arm. Spin him around to face her. She shot a glance at his pocket, knowing what lay there. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Ysbel has naught to do with why I face Asher.”
“She has everything to do with it.” She stopped. Took a deep breath and reined herself in. When she spoke again, her voice was calm. Deliberate. “We have the reliquary. We can use it. A tool to force Asher to our terms.”
An image of the jeweled casket entered his mind. The evil power that lay within it. The insidious mage energy that pulsed around it, through it. Tempting him. Luring him into believing that it was all true. The Jevan Triad would bring peace and light to the two worlds. Not the tragic suffering he’d been taught. That swirl of darkness was the reason he’d placed it with the fey for its protection. They could withstand the reliquary’s influence. They knew the promises were false. They remembered what had happened last time.
“No, Ellery. We do this my way. There are things you can’t understand. To let Asher near the reliquary would be disaster.”
“But hear me out.” She struggled to argue.
“Enough,” he said, his own mounting fury combined with the influence of the leveryas startling her to a standstill. “I know what I’m doing.” He gave her a pointed look. “Don’t make me regret my choice.”
She dropped his arm, stepping back as if he’d slapped her. Her face went pale, her mouth pinched and white. “You arrogant, hard-headed, shatter-brained…” She stamped her foot, her hands curling into fists he wasn’t sure whether she was preparing to use.
He took his own step back.
He’d gone too far, but she’d pushed him—goaded him beyond sense. He’d meet the devil and be done. Break him as he’d broken others. Send him to hell even if he had to follow him down to the deepest fires to do it. He put out a conciliatory hand. “I didn’t mean it. Not the way it sounded.”
She threw it off, her eyes freezing him with blue ice. “Mayhap not, but if you keep to this path, you’ll be dead by Monday and your regrets won’t matter, will they?”
Ellery stood outside Conor’s bedchamber, scanning the hall up and down. No one. She almost wished someone would stop her. Call out. Question her right to be there. Though no doubt at this point, her entrance into Conor’s room merited little comment. That thought alone made her grimace. Marriage prettied up their relationship, but it didn’t change it. Conor had only asked her out of duty. A sense of misguided responsibility. And she had accepted out of…well, she wouldn’t look too closely at her reasons.
She rubbed her damp hands down her skirt, took a deep breath, and entered.
Conor’s ambiguity aside, she knew where her heart lay. In pieces around her with Asher’s threats dealing the hammer blows. She’d lain awake all night, running the conversation with the dark fey over and over in her mind. But nothing changed. In the end, Conor died.
Despite his infuriating high-handedness, she would not let that happen.
She started in the obvious places. Under the bed. In a trunk that sat beneath the window. At the back of the clothespress. Nothing.
