Page 29

“I’ve clamped the bleeding,”

Henshaw says, while kneeling on the living room floor in a pool of my blood. “Now move her to a table so I can properly—”

Percy laughs in disbelief. “The bleeding has stopped? Completely?”

Henshaw hesitates. “Yes, but blood flow needs to be re-established to—”

“Let’s go,”

Percy shouts.

“What? No!”

Henshaw balks. “She needs me to operate. At the very least, I need to close—”

“You will,”

Liam says, cutting him off. “After we get out of here. Bandage her up the best you can. Quickly. You’re coming with us.”

Although I hear the words around me, they feel distant, as if they’re being spoken in another room—until Henshaw’s voice is suddenly directly in my ear. “Do not share this with him until I have reconnected your vein. I can’t be certain he won’t bleed to death.”

It’s exactly what I feared. I send the memory of Henshaw’s words to Tristan in hopes it will quiet him, then close my eyes as my thoughts again turn fuzzy. A bandage is wrapped around my neck on top of the clamps, and despite my weak protests to not kill Tristan, Liam carries me out of the room.

But it’s not until we reach the backyard and I feel Tristan’s fury at being dragged along as their prisoner, that a new and horrifying thought occurs to me: they’re bringing Tristan with us—likely so Liam can fulfill his promise of breaking our connection. But death would be a mercy if Father gets his hands on Tristan.

A shocking number of clansmen wait in Tristan’s backyard, holding horses. Liam hands me over to a bearded man from Cohdor I’ve seen before but can’t name. The man gives me back to Liam once he’s on his mount, and we ride for the border fence, where more clansmen meet us, guarding the access that Liam and Percy gained. There’s no resistance from Kingsland soldiers. No alarm sounding. It’s too easy.

What did they do to make it that way?

After an hour, maybe more, we stop, and I’m laid on the forest floor.

“I cannot do what I need to while she’s lying on the ground,”

Henshaw shouts. “My operating field needs to be perfectly sterile, and I absolutely cannot be rushed. Once I start, I don’t stop.”

“Maybe you just need some motivation to be faster,”

Percy says.

“Percy!”

Liam snaps. Then his voice softens as he speaks to Henshaw. “What do you need?”

Henshaw relays a checklist of surgical equipment he has no hope of getting. I tune him out as I search for the connection. Tristan’s here, that much I sense, but the distance between us is too far for anything more. Escape, I send to him anyway. He must find a way. It’s his only hope.

“Can she wait until we reach Hanook?”

Liam asks, worry sharpening his voice.

“I don’t see another option—not if you want this to go well. But I should check the clamps and pack the wound better. Give her something to drink, if she can, to help with the blood loss.”

“Do it. Be quick.”

“Then bring me my medical bag.”

We continue on, but even adrenaline and sheer terror isn’t enough to keep me awake.

A woman wipes a cloth over my face with a firm, practiced hand, leaving a trace of lavender. She’s not gentle. She’s efficient. The soft melody of “Wintertime,”

one of the few songs I know, tiptoes through the air.

It’s my mother.

“Where am I?”

I rasp, my eyes opening.

She startles. “You’re home.”

Happiness shines on her face, but I don’t take the time to appreciate the rare occurrence.

Frantically, my gaze darts around the room. My red-and-white flowered curtains flutter toward my bed; the shutters are half open. My precious stack of medical books and beeswax candles remain in a pile on the small table in the corner. The familiar scent of peeled logs and smoke from the woodstove in the living room fills my nose. Disappointment piles on me like the layers of blankets holding me down.

She’s wrong. This isn’t my home anymore.

Tristan.

My hand shoots to my bandaged neck. The clamps are gone. I vaguely remember Henshaw working on me again after he gave me some medicine that made me feel intoxicated. Eventually, he gave me something else that put me to sleep. Sharp slivers of pain dig into the muscles surrounding my throat as I lift my head from my lumpy pillow, but it’s not unbearable. “How long have I been out?”

Mum’s dirty-blond hair is pulled tight into its usual braid, and the lines around her mouth and eyes seem deeper than I remember them. Perhaps I should be relieved at seeing her—something I wasn’t sure would ever happen again—but I’m not. The disappointment is too great to appreciate this as a gift.

“You’ve been asleep for a little over a day. That doctor warned it would be like that after whatever he gave you.”

I freeze at the mention of Henshaw, hoping she’ll say more—like where he’s being kept, and especially with who. But she doesn’t elaborate. I clear my throat, which tenses my neck and causes the shards of pain to plunge a little deeper. “Were the doctor and I the only people Liam brought back from Kingsland?”

Mum stands. “That’s none of your concern. Liam and your father are handling it.”

I see nothing has changed in the time I’ve been gone. Not even losing her daughter has spurred her to push back on her lowly position.

I can’t afford to do the same. “Where’s Liam?”

“I’m here.”

His large frame appears at the open door.

Skies—he was waiting. Listening.

Mum cups my cheek in an uncharacteristically tender move, her eyes burning with something unsaid. I think she missed me.

“Would you like to freshen up in the bathroom first?”

Actually, yes. My bladder needs it, and it’ll give me time to formulate a plan.

She helps me stand, and although I’m a little dizzy, I’m perfectly capable of walking myself. But when I return to my spot on the bed minutes later, I’m no closer to figuring out what to do.

I nibble on my lip as Liam shuts the door—a bold move neither Mum or I could object to given Liam’s status as a clan leader. His gaze skates over my room, taking it in with interest. He pauses on my textbooks, the ones he brought me, then grins.

It’s shocking how primitive everything feels in comparison to Kingsland. It’s like a giant step back in time. But more than that, a restlessness comes over me. The sensation of being trapped. It’s . . . stifling.

Not only do I not want to live here anymore, but I also don’t want to go back to who I was when I lived here.

“Where’s Tristan and the doctor?” I ask.

“Alive.”

He lowers himself to sit on the bed with me.

That single word both makes me rejoice and devastates me. So Tristan wasn’t able to escape. I call out for him with the connection, like casting a fishing line into the water. It returns empty.

I glare at the man I thought was my friend. More than a friend. We were going to change the future together. Make things better for the clans. “You slit Tristan’s throat.”

The hand he was running through his hair pauses.

“You could have killed him.”

He gives a strange laugh. “That was the point.”

I don’t know what to do with that.

“It’s war, Isadora. It’s ugly.”

And not that long ago, you hated it too.

He speaks to the side of my face. “I know it’s black and white to you, but it’s a privilege to be able to stay out of it the way you have. Not all of us have been given that chance.”

Pressure builds in my ears until they start to ring. I can’t blame him for the mistaken belief that this is a two-sided war with Kingsland; he’s only been following Father’s lead. But what he nearly accomplished in Tristan’s living room was not about survival. His life was not in danger. It wasn’t kill or be killed. Liam attempted murder because he didn’t like that Tristan was married to me.

It was jealousy.

But I don’t dare say that to his face. Liam is my only source of information, and if I want to see Tristan again, I can’t push him away. My chest heaves with an inhale as I bite my tongue.

“You want to know where he is, don’t you?”

My gaze returns to him.

His shoulders drop, and I realize it was a test. Liam shoves to his feet, then paces the floor, agitation wafting off him with every step. “What did he do? How did he get such a hold over you so quickly? You said it was their magic, right?”

He stops long enough to sear me with a look. “We need to sever it. There has to be a way.”

No!

But as his fists clench and unclench and a desperation fills his eyes, I realize keeping Liam as an ally is going to be more challenging than biting my tongue. He thinks I’m still his betrothed.

Technically, I am.

His boots thump as he abruptly comes to a stop. “Do you understand the gravity of what’s going on?”

I school my face to be submissive. “Yes. I’m sorry. I just—”

His head ducks, searching for my gaze. Begging me to look at him. “No, I don’t think you do. Isadora, if we don’t sever everything between you and Tristan, or if word gets out that you chose to willingly stay in the Kingsland, you’ll burn. It’ll be treason, and even your father won’t be able to save you.”

His words strike terror in my body even though I always knew my choices could lead to this. The clans might’ve forgiven me for the things that happened against my will. But he knows what I know: I am guilty of treason.

Is that why Liam tried to kill Tristan? Was he eliminating the evidence?

“Nobody can know you were married.”

I swallow hard.

“Nobody,”

he repeats sharply.

I nod because he’s right. But then steel claws sink into my heart. It might be too late to contain it. “Percy knows.”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “Percy stabbed Farron Banks for you; I think your secret is safe with him.”

His shoulders seem to roll inward. “Fates, even before that, Percy was the one to convince me to challenge to be the leader of Cohdor. He knew your father’s plans to give your hand in marriage to a clan leader, and he also knew how I felt about you. If not for your brother watching your back, you could be betrothed to Gerald right now.”

The truths keep coming, hitting harder and harder. I never considered that Percy stabbing Farron was something he did for me. I thought he was helping Liam, his friend.

But finding out that Liam became leader of Cohdor for me—this one hurts. To challenge a clan leader, you must first demonstrate your master skills in your clan’s area of expertise. For Liam, it was various wood building assignments. He then had to race up Mount Haines on foot, light a fire at the top, and return before the time limit. But after days of no sleep and surviving the brutal elements, he was exhausted, and barely survived the required fight with the old clan leader that came next.

All that for a chance to be with me. Burning ashes.

Liam’s face turns solemn. “It’s not just Percy and me who know, though. I don’t trust that doctor to keep silent when he’s questioned.”

My heart rate doubles. Of course the prisoners would be questioned, and since Henshaw barely tolerated me, I wouldn’t be surprised if he cracked like a bloated, dead toad. “Then I need to speak with him.”

I crawl forward on the bed. This is my way to Tristan. “I should speak with both the prisoners.”

“I already have. I told them not to say a word about you.”

My bubble of hope pops. “And?”

“Like I said, it’s the doctor I’m worried about. I’ve given instructions that no one is to lay a hand on them, but you and I both know that won’t last. If they want to survive, they’ll have to speak. And they’ll be forced to get real specific when they see Tristan’s injuries ending up on your body.”

It’s a relief that Liam thinks sharing injuries with Tristan is automatic and not what it is: a choice. He also doesn’t know that distance disrupts the connection. I can only hope those two beliefs continue to protect Tristan somewhat, but it can’t last. And Liam’s right; Tristan’s current wounds on me, and any future ones should I need to help him again, will tell a story of treason. The only option is to find Tristan and escape—before any harm comes to him.

“We have to find a way to break their magic,”

Liam says, thick brows pushing together.

His words give me an idea. “Marriage,”

I whisper. Please don’t let me regret this. “Marriage is the key to the Kingsland magic. It’s the only reason Tristan and I married in the first place. I was hurt and about to die. It’s a long story,”

I say to his confused face. “The point is, he married me, and then his magic connected us. We shared my wound, and I was saved. It started with marriage.”

His face hardens with anger. “What did they do to almost kill you?”

My gaze darts to the closed door as male voices leak through from the hall. It’s Father’s men, which means Father’s home too. “We’re running out of time; I’ll tell you later. The point is—”

“We need to end your marriage.”

I can’t believe I’m suggesting this, but it’s the only reason I can think of for Liam to allow me a conversation with Tristan. “I didn’t sign a certificate. There was no elaborate ceremony. There was a woman asking a question—a priestly sort of leader. Tristan said yes, and I was barely coherent when I agreed. I don’t know what needs to be done to end it. I’ll need to talk to Tristan myself to find out.”

“I’ll do it,”

he offers.

“You slit his throat. You won’t get anything out of him without torture, and that’s not an option.”

I give him a significant look. “It has to be me.”

Liam’s face turns thoughtful. “I could talk to the doctor; he’d be more likely to share.”

No. “I—I don’t think the doctor would know. He doesn’t have the magic. Very few people in Kingsland do. Just give me five minutes with Tristan. Please.”

“You shouldn’t be traveling all the way to Cohdor in your condition.”

Tristan’s in Cohdor.

I lock eyes with Liam. “I can do it.”

His lips thin, then relax. He reaches out and takes my hand but doesn’t stop there. Moving in closer, his head dips to press a gentle kiss to my forehead.

It’s all I can do not to push him away for what he did to Tristan. I don’t care if he’s been hardened by what he’s experienced, or if his motivations were to save me from being punished for treason. I’m not sure I can ever forgive Liam for what he did.

He pulls back. “We’re going to be together. It’s all going to work out.”

I try to smile and hate myself when I succeed.

“We can make the trip tomorrow if you’re feeling up for it,” he says.

“Why not now?”

Besides the obvious urgency, there’s also the need to know if Enola is okay. And the longer I’m gone, the harder it will be for me to clear my name in Kingsland. I can’t let Caro and Annette get away with what they did. I have to go back.

“Because of your . . . neck.”

He makes a face like I should know better.

I press on the bandage, and it really doesn’t hurt like it should. I rise off the bed and walk to my small hand mirror pinned to the wall. After unraveling the cloth, I find nearly a four-inch gash, stretching from the middle of my neck to under my left ear. It stings, and the stitches are tight, but already it looks like it’s had a week to heal.

Fates.

Tristan took some of it back, probably when I was loopy on medicine. It means he’s injured while stuck in a filthy prison. “I’m fine, and I want to leave now.”

Ripping open the top drawer of my dresser, I toss a clean set of clothes onto my bed. I also snag the fresh roll of bandages Mum must have left for me on the table.

Liam doesn’t move.

I fight to keep the edge of annoyance out of my voice. “Is that going to be a problem?”

He looks taken aback at my urgency. “I guess not. What about your parents?”

Right. Father will be eager for information on Kingsland, and there’s no way Mum will let me walk out the door. “The window.”

I cross the room and thrust the wooden shutters wider open. “Leave the way you came, then meet me here. You can help me climb out.”