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The rose bushes were in full bloom, honeybees buzzing around the thorny shrubs. The hedges hadn’t been trimmed in far too long, and moss grew abundantly between the stones of the seldomly used path. A variety of grasses grew tall, and wild clover sprawled over the ground, leaving the gardens looking overgrown and much wilder than other grounds along the Avenue.
My father loved this patch of land. It was probably the only way he’d managed to survive as a cooped-up citizen of Cambria, but he was morally opposed to keeping it manicured.We don’t trim hedges on Tramore, he’d said to me more than once,and there’s no place more beautiful.
I continued past the house to the back doors, pretending to search behind bushes and trees along the way in case I was being watched.
Once behind the house, I scanned the side fences. My eye traveled high, up to the battlements atop the massive stone wall backing the grounds. I could scarcely see the top, but my eye caught the telltale movement that let me know, for certain, that Enforcers patrolled it.
Fears within the city were higher than usual—but they were balanced with the excitement over the return of the rightful heir. And it seemed no amount of fear was enough to stop the nobles from gathering to show off to each other at a celebratory ball.
I turned away from the wall and stepped through the back door.
“Cait?” I called. “I’ve got some juicy news for you.” I hadn’t yet read beyond the news of my father, but I wanted to cheer her up if I could.
I went from the dining room to the living room, but both were empty.
“Cait?”
My heart started to race. I went to the cellars, déjà vu setting in, reminding me of the night I’d arrived to an empty house when I’d expected my father to be home.
“Cait! You better be here or I swear I’ll smother you with your own hair!”
I dashed into the bedroom we’d slept in, but she wasn’t there. Just as I started to fear she’d truly left me, I heard a clatter in the weapon room down the hall. I ran down to it.
Cait was visible through the open door.
I exhaled with a relieved sigh. “You’re here,” I said.
She held a knife in one hand, and a pistol was on the floor beside her. “What was that about my hair?” she asked.
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “I got today’s paper.” I held up the prize, smiling innocently. My heart still raced, and I realized that ever since we’d parted ways by the wall, I’d been afraid I’d lose her again. Now that Lachlan was back, I wondered if Cait wanted to stay with me at all.
She tossed a knife toward a wooden target on the far wall, but it missed and hit the wall with a clank. “I’m really bad at this.”
“Ever thrown a knife before?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
“Well, then. That’s why.” I set the paper down on the ground and picked up the knife instead. With one flick of the wrist, I landed it on the target.
“You’re too good at that,” she said.
“I’ve hadlotsof practice,” I said.
Yesterday, I might’ve wondered why she was suddenly interested in weapon practice, but after hearing about her experience in prison and understanding how fervently she didn’t want to be captured, I couldn’t question her desire to feel safe.
“Actually,” I said, heading for the door to shut it, “my father designed this room to be pretty soundproof, so why not give the pistol a try?”
She picked up the gun. “Okay.” She held it in both hands and extended her arms toward the target.
I covered my ears, but the crack was still ear-shattering in the contained stone room.
A new hole marked the target, just off-center, but surprisingly close.
Cait smiled.
I clapped for her. “Bravo!”
“Can you imagine a whole arsenal of weapons like these?” She looked down at the gun. “I still wonder if Keane was right.”
