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The warning there was clear, she hoped. If he were to do anything, he’d only make it worse for her, and she prayed he picked up on that.

Overwhelming relief as Jace stepped back had her knees buckling a bit. Jace didn’t leave, and he still vibrated with anger, but not with the look of unrestrained violence he had before. It was obvious that his body was ready to spring into action should Arioch do anything more than run his mouth, but he was giving her a chance to handle this, and that was all she could ask for.

“A young lady like you should stick close to the good men of this town. Marry and lay down some roots.” His gnarled finger ran along her clavicle and over the shirt she wore, thankfully not touching her skin.

How this man could be called holy flabbergasted her. Something had always been off about him and Daran, Mallory’s betrothed and Arioch’s brother. She wished she knew what it was so she could point the finger back at him. “You out roaming about in the evening like a whore might let the men of this town think they can—”

“Get away from her,” Jace growled, no longer heeding the warning in Bryn’s eyes.

Damn it, Jace.

Arioch only looked over his shoulder, letting out a laugh of indulgence one would have toward an errant youth posturing for a battle he would only lose due to age and inexperience. Ignoring Jace, Arioch turned his eyes back to Bryn as his tongue ran over his yellowed teeth.

“Until today, I’d had my hopes up that you’d leave your wicked ways and all that behind.” Arioch eyed her lips before they roved down to her chest and back up again.

Her fake smile dropped, and his eyes narrowed as she pulled the ends of her drab-beige shirt sleeves over her hands. Even though the sleeves of what she thought of as her daily uniform were sweltering in the heat, she couldn’t chance someone, most especially Arioch, making contact with her skin. To be at his mercy during one of her fits was one of her worst nightmares.

“I’d rather not marry, thank you.” She put her arms between their bodies and broke away from him using her forearms.

Grabbing her elbow once she was freed, while Jace grabbed the other, Arioch leaned in, his lips close to her ear, making her shiver in disgust.

“It’d be best for your safety if you did. I’d listen to those wiser than you, girlie.”

“She listens to herself, and I think that makes her plenty wise.” Jace growled, pulling her away from Arioch and spinning Bryn toward Saints’ Road, leaving Arioch behind without a glance. She could feel Cyerra watching her as she left and hoped the man left the crow alone. That he seemed unfazed at the crow’s appearance made her wonder if he knew Cyerra had been here even before Bryn did.

Just more proof that Arioch had his own dangerous secrets. Ones she hoped in no way would affect her or her place here in Ifreann.

“You do not pretend to be weak as I thought. I had hoped it was all a ruse.”Cyerra’s presence left her mind as she walked, and Bryn tried not to feel like she had let down a crow of all things. One that knew some version of her from some imaginary past life when Bryn had no idea where the crow had come from.

Bryn’s teeth ground down as she ran the crow’s words through her mind. Had she ever tried to stand up and show her strength? Or had she always backed away with her tail between her legs?

An unsettled sensation moved through her at the thought.

The next time she could, she was going to ask question after question about what Cyerra knew now that Bryn’s panicked state had decreased enough to have some semblance of rational thought.

“You survived a life surrounded by enemies,” Jace started speaking, as if he could hear her thoughts. “You do what you need to in order to see another day. You continue to gather your strength, and one day, you’ll hit back so hard they’ll all regret the moment they set you in their sights as prey.”

And wasn’t she so very tired of being prey?

Chapter 10

“Yougivehimtoomuch of your energy,” Niamh said as she followed Bryn into the sheriff’s office. It had the same bare wooden walls as the rest of town. The chairs and desks that Justin had made were the only redeeming quality of the décor. Yet the entire room was still brown. Always brown, no matter inside or outside, in their depressing town.

Two cells with bars that were situated against the left side of the room were so rusted it looked like a slight breeze would reduce them to powder. She knew the jail had hardly seen any use aside from the town youth finding creative ways to get in trouble, and even that was rare.

A small closet-sized room, also entirely brown aside from the beige papers strewn across the desk, was for Justin to work in relative quiet without dealing with the rest of the bulls in the pen.

It took Bryn a moment to realize Niamh was assuming she was thinking of Declan when she’d walked in the room, fresh with the misery of Arioch’s ambush on her face. Poor Declan had just been the first in sight when she’d entered the sheriff’s office.

The man in question stood up at the look on her face but stepped back at the tension radiating from her cousin next to her.

Giving Niamh a half smile, she stepped past her friend into a separate room next to Justin’s office with a long table that the deputies and sheriff met at every day for their tasks. A podium was at the front of the room, a chalkboard behind it with names and schedules written out, the once-black board now chalky white from being used so much.

Bryn felt like she was in a coffin with only one, tiny window in the room and moved toward the chair closest to it.

Caden was at the table already, speaking and laughing with Sage, which only amplified the stiffness in her cousin’s body. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she wished she could somehow calm him down before the stress of dealing with Arioch made him tear into Caden in a fit of jealousy.

“I’m not the problem today,” Declan said to Niamh, and Bryn did not look back to see the stare off that Niamh and Declan were no doubt caught up in as she moved to the chair she had scoped out.