Page 50 of Dark Bringer (Lord of Everfell #1)

Cathrynne

S he woke to the smell of beeswax. For a bad moment, she thought she was back in Markus’s house. She jerked to sitting, heart racing with the urge to run or fight, but the view out the window was of a garden, wild and overgrown yet familiar.

Beneath it was a toy chest with a snake made of green felt curled up on top, next to a tatty stuffed cat with stripes that were bleached nearly white on one side by the sunlight spilling into the room, as if it had not been moved in years.

Their names came to her instantly: Fang and Henry.

Cathrynne’s pulse slowed as she realized that she’d escaped the monstrous Viktorovich family and was in her childhood bedroom.

It was too surreal.

She’d never expected to return. And once she’d gotten over the rage and betrayal and homesickness of a child who’d been given to strangers across the sea, Cathrynne had never wanted to.

The girl who’d been driven away in the backseat of a Jentzen Mirage was a stranger.

Nothing to do with her anymore. She was a cypher of Kirith now, and the chapter house was her family.

But chance had brought her back—and there was no escaping that .

She felt terribly thirsty and downed a glass of water that was sitting on the bedside table. Her feet were bandaged with fresh gauze. The rest of her felt like one big bruise. On the plus side, she still had all her teeth, and nothing seemed actually broken.

Voices murmured in the hall. For a moment, she was tempted to burrow under the covers and go back to sleep. Not face any of it. But that wasn’t an option. Cathrynne rose stiffly from the bed and hobbled across the room, pressing an ear to the door.

“ . . . three cracked ribs and multiple contusions. Her kidneys are likely bruised so she’ll see pink urine. That should eventually stop on its own. The salve must be applied to her lacerations twice daily.” A pause. “You understand that I have to report this. Assault is a serious crime?—”

No. No, no. She jerked open the door. The three women in the hall turned to look at her.

Her mother Hysto was still regal as a hawk, her face unlined though she was past sixty.

Nestania, her grandmother, looked the same.

Tall and olive-skinned, with white hair cascading to her waist. Gems gleamed at her throat and hands.

The third woman was younger and carried a black medical bag. She had brown eyes—not a witch. Her hair was cut short, and she wore a fashionable man’s suit with perfect confidence. Cathrynne liked her, but she couldn’t allow word to get out that she was here.

“No reports.” The words came out a croak.

The doctor frowned. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

She gripped the door jamb. “I was in an accident. I’ll be fine?—”

“Nonsense,” the doctor retorted briskly. “There are bruises upon bruises. It is quite obvious that these injuries were inflicted over time.”

Hysto rushed to Cathrynne’s side, guiding her back to bed. The raw look in her eyes made Cathrynne deeply uncomfortable.

“Tell the doctor I don’t remember what happened,” she whispered. “Make her go away. No reports .”

Hysto studied her for a moment, then nodded. She returned to the hall. They all spoke in low voices. The doctor came into the room.

“At least let me give you something for the pain,” she said. “It will help you sleep.”

“No sedatives,” Cathrynne said firmly.

The doctor sighed. “Very well. But you must stay on bed rest for a week.”

Cathrynne promised. She’d say anything to get rid of this woman. Hysto showed the doctor out, leaving Nestania, whose silver eyes seemed to see straight through her.

Please,” Cathrynne rasped. “Tell no one I’m here. No one. ”

“What have you gotten yourself into, child?”

“I’m not a child.” Her voice hardened. “And you owe me this.”

Nestania’s gaze brushed the raven tattoo on her hand. A brief look of shame crossed her face. “Who did it?” she asked.

“I don’t remember.”

Cathrynne rolled over and shut her eyes. A moment later, she heard her grandmother leave the room.

* * *

For the first three days, every time she slept, she had nightmares that she was back in the cell. The beatings were nothing compared to being trapped in that lightless place.

Someone must have heard her screams, because when she woke one morning, a big caracal was lying on the rug by her bed. She learned that his name was Tamar. His yellow eyes watched the window, and he rose to his feet whenever someone came inside the room. He let her scratch behind his ears.

When he left to do his business in the garden, or to eat chopped meat in the kitchen, Cathrynne felt anxious until he returned. But she trusted that he would alert her to any danger, and gradually she was able to sleep through the night again.

Markus and Veronica must know where she’d run to. She wondered if they would dare come here and try to take her back by force.

Perhaps not.

Hysto and Nestania were powerful witches. They would fight hard.

And Cathrynne’s value was uncertain. Markus couldn’t be sure she knew where the kaldurite source was.

The fact was, she didn’t know.

Only Kal Machena did.

So the smart thing, now that the White Foxes had lost Cathrynne, would be to put all their resources into finding Kal.

Unless Markus decided that she needed to be silenced.

It was possible, but Cathrynne felt she knew him better than that. He was a cautious man.

They could both destroy each other. Therefore, the best option was to call a truce—for now.

A tiny smile curled Cathrynne’s lips.

I am learning to think like Morningstar.

Hysto and Nestania brought trays of food. She pretended to be asleep so she didn’t have to answer their questions.

Her half-sister Lara didn’t turn up until the fifth day. As usual, Cathrynne closed her eyes the moment the door opened. The mattress shifted as someone sat on the edge of the bed.

“It’s been a long time, but you’re still my sister,” Lara said fiercely. “I want you to know that I’m going to rain fire and fucking brimstone down on whoever did this.”

Cathrynne opened her eyes. Twenty years had transformed the surly teenager into a poised witch with elegant clothes and glossy dark hair. Of course, Lara had grown up with all the wealth and privilege that came with the Lenormand name.

“I knew you were faking.” Lara looked grim. “So who was it?”

Cathrynne regarded her stonily. Never had the gulf between them seemed so wide. “I don’t remember.”

“For Minerva’s sake. We’re blood.” Her eyes narrowed. “You worked for Lord Morningstar. Was it him?”

She gave a pained laugh. “Gods, no.”

“So you do remember.”

“It wasn’t him.” She kept her voice carefully neutral. “Have you heard anything? He was ill. That’s why I came to Arjevica. We brought him to Suriel at the Angel Tower.”

Lara shrugged. “No idea. But there’s been quite a commotion about you .”

Cathrynne chewed her lip. “What about Mercy Blackthorn? She’s my partner.”

“Still missing. Who are you protecting? And why are you protecting them?”

When Cathrynne didn’t answer, her eyes flashed. “You don’t trust us.”

Simmering anger tipped over to a boil. “Why should I?” Cathrynne retorted. “And don’t give me that line about us being blood. You never came looking for me after I was taken away. Never gave a damn before.”

Lara looked away. “I was ordered not to.”

But they both knew she wouldn’t have come to Arioch regardless.

“You don’t know me, and I don’t know you,” Cathrynne said. “So as soon as I can walk, I’ll get out of here. I don’t need your help.”

“Whatever.” Her petulant expression reminded Cathrynne of the old Lara, who always threw a fit when she didn’t get her way. “If someone did that to me,” she snapped, “I’d kill them.”

Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she strode from the room.