Page 36

Freddy is sitting on Percy’s front porch.

He stands as I mount the steps and march past him. Fingers of dark brown braids poke out from under his hat. “You really gonna do this?”

I guess Freia already broached the idea. “Uh-huh,”

I say, then twist the door handle and walk right in. Freddy doesn’t stop me.

The connection instantly pulls me to Tristan, knitting a bridge between us. He startles at my presence. Then wisps of his curiosity and concern flow through me as I approach the room I found him in yesterday.

Percy exits the bathroom, holding a towel to his wet, blond hair. He straightens when he sees me. “What are you doing?”

His gaze darts to the room Tristan’s in, the one I’m only feet from opening. Caution enters his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Am I not welcome in your home?”

I’m close enough to Tristan that a warmth swirls languidly in my gut.

Percy’s head slowly inclines. “You damn well know why.”

“I’m breaking them out. They saved me, Percy. Tristan and the doctor. I owe them my life.”

He moves closer. “Stop talking nonsense and get out of here.”

My hand slips into the front of my dress, and I pull out the blade, holding it in the air between us. “You’re not listening to me. I owe them. The kind of debt you die for.”

Percy’s face grows confused. “They’re from the Kingsland. Have you forgotten what that means? They are Kingsland!”

“He’s my husband,”

I shout back.

“If you do this, you’re going to get yourself killed.”

Urgency gnaws on my insides. There’s no time to argue. “Pick a side, Percy. Right now. Fight me or walk away.”

“Fight you?”

He gives a hollow laugh, then drops the towel in his hand to rub his eyes. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“I haven’t.”

I force a calm I don’t feel into my voice. “I know exactly what I’m doing. Liam told me you care about my future. That you’ve been protecting me behind the scenes every time Father has thrown me away for his own interests. I’m asking you to do it again, one last time. Walk away. Just walk out the door.”

The stubborn crease between his brows softens infinitesimally. “What’s your plan? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

“I have horses and supplies ready. If you could . . . distract Father. That’s all I need.”

We stare each other down. A multitude of emotions passes over his face, too fast to make them all out. He curses, then marches out the door.

Gratitude and relief cascade through me. Skies above, that actually worked.

Bursting into the room where Tristan’s being held, I find him fighting with the ropes around his hands and ankles. He’s dressed in Percy’s clothes, but they’re marked with blood. New cuts and bruises mar his face.

The connection crashes into us full force, and the room feels like it darkens with my fury. I’m so livid it takes me a second to comprehend that Tristan’s staring at me.

“Wow,”

he says, his gaze taking in my dress.

I ignore him. “Who did that to you?”

He shakes his head as he fights to lift his eyes to mine. “Can we talk about that later? Are we getting out of here?”

I drop to my knees and use my blade to hack at the thick rope around Tristan’s feet. It’s tied to a ring bolt in the floor. Thank the mighty stars I didn’t wait any longer. Why didn’t I fight harder to get him free last night? I sniff as tears of frustration burn my throat.

“Isadora,”

Tristan whispers.

I look up. Our faces are just inches away.

“I love you,”

he says, then he kisses me. The connection rejoices only to cry out in pain when the kiss ends as quickly as it began. Tristan jumps to his feet and turns so I can work to free his hands. Rising, I saw at the thick rope binding his wrists, sharp edge of my knife facing out.

There’s a pounding at the front door.

I suck in a sharp breath.

Tristan looks over his shoulder, then with gritted teeth, snaps the last strands left uncut. “Cut Henshaw free.”

I run to the next room and do as he says. A disheveled and slightly bloodied Henshaw urges me on.

The pounding won’t stop. It only grows louder. “Isadora, I know you’re in there.”

Liam.

“To the back door,”

I whisper.

A beam of wood secures the lock, but Henshaw and I make quick work of it, then run outside. “There.”

I point. Two horses graze not far away near the edge of Percy’s backyard. My pack is tied on the back of one of them. Thank you, Freia.

The three of us race over, Henshaw and Tristan each taking a horse. Tristan immediately scoots back for me. “Get on.”

I freeze. The clan leaders need to know what Father has done. I can’t leave yet.

Tristan gives me a puzzled look, and then I feel his anger pump through my veins. “Isadora, get on.”

But my plan to stay until the wedding seems riddled with holes now. Liam’s seconds from discovering the prisoners are gone, and too many people saw me enter the house. Not to mention speaking to the clan leaders means confronting Gerald again. Perhaps there’s another way.

“Come on,”

Henshaw hisses, his horse dancing with agitation. “We need to go.”

Tristan won’t take his eyes off me. “I’m not leaving without you.”

His resolve resonates in my chest.

Fates.

“Isadora!”

It’s Liam, and this time he’s too loud, too close to ignore. I glance back and find him rounding the house, mouth agape.

My decision to leave is suddenly made. I’ll have to find another way to expose Father’s lies.

I step into the stirrup and climb into the space in front of Tristan as he leans back. The slit of my dress rides high up my leg. Then I take the reins, and our horse speeds off. Liam calls my name one more time, and I can’t resist another look over my shoulder. He’s running back the way he came.

“Don’t worry about him,”

Tristan says into my ear.

But I do. This was not how I wanted Liam to find out that I haven’t been honest with him.

We ride harder than we should down the trail, drawing the attention of a few women and children outside. If soldiers haven’t seen us, they’ve surely heard us. We need to get away from the houses and make it to the forest, where we’ll be better able to hide.

I take a side path, which sends us crashing through brush. The edge of the forest comes into view, then I spot a couple soldiers standing near the perimeter. We’ll never make it past them unnoticed. I slow, then come to a stop. “We need to go a different way.”

Though I can’t think of one. There will be soldiers patrolling all the boundaries of clan land.

Tristan leans around me, straining to see the problem. “We’ll have to make a run for it. They’re off their horses; we have a head start.”

“We’ll never make it.”

“We have to.”

I glance around, desperately. “What if we leave our horses and crawl through the grass? We might get through unseen.”

“Or find a place to hide here,”

Henshaw offers. “We’re free. Let’s do our best to stay that way.”

Maybe. But where?

Hooves rumble down the path behind us, pinning us where we are. I spin my horse around, and Henshaw does the same. My heart sinks.

It’s Liam. He stops before us, his broad chest heaving. “Don’t do this. They’ll figure out it was you. All our plans—everything will fall apart unless you bring them back.”

I sag in exasperation. “What plans, Liam? The plan where we get married, then wait thirty years for you to become Saraf before anything can change? How is that supposed to stop a war?”

Even my idea to make Liam Saraf at the wedding feels like a fool’s dream now.

Tristan’s hands slide over my hips with a steadying pressure. Liam notices, and pain gathers in his eyes. He flexes his jaw once, then seems to steel himself for what he says next. “If you choose him, you will have to tread carefully. Your father will—”

Horses—two, maybe three—race down the trail behind Liam. We have to go now. Jerking the reins, I attempt to flee but the bushes crash around us. Men come at us from all sides. Maska.

Gerald leads the charge.

My gaze sweeps the soldiers surrounding us. Seven of them. All with weapons pointed at our hearts.

Desperately, I search for an opening between them.

“Steady,”

Tristan whispers into my neck while his heart thunders against my back.

I grip the reins tighter.

A sick smile blooms on Gerald’s face. “Well, isn’t this interesting. I see a couple of traitors helping the prisoners escape. That’s treason, isn’t it, boys?”

A spike of fear drives straight through my chest. My gaze snaps to Liam, and horror settles over his face. Gerald thinks Liam is in on this too.

Grunts of agreement rise from his Maska men.

“That’s not what’s happening here,”

Liam shouts.

“Seize them,”

Gerald commands.

My horse tosses his head as the men dismount and crowd around us. One grabs the bridle, taking control. A man with a scraggly beard and a sword strapped to his back slides his hand over my bare calf, and I kick out, striking him in the nose with my boot.

“Witch,”

he spits, stumbling back. He draws his sword. “Get off your horse or I’ll chop off your leg.”

I’m so shocked I don’t move.

He winds up to swing.

“No!” I yell.

He laughs cruelly. “Then get going.”

With tense movements, I obey. We’re outnumbered, unprotected, and completely at their mercy.

This is Gerald’s revenge for spitting in his face.

I feel the war of emotions inside Tristan as we’re shoved back in the direction we just came from, the tips of their weapons inches from our backs. Although most of them are off their horses, they tow them along.

“Where are you taking us?”

Liam demands.

Gerald’s lips curl up at the corners, showcasing the dark crusts blanketing some of his teeth. “To the Saraf, of course.”

The closer I am to anyone from my clan—Father, Percy—the more likely someone can intervene. This is a good thing. Tristan sends me his thoughts, agreeing.

At the edge of my yard a handful of soldiers spot us and go on alert.

Gerald raises his voice loudly. “What’s the punishment for treason, boys?”

“Death!”

his men shout almost gleefully, as if they’ve rehearsed it.

Terror explodes in my chest as I realize they probably have. I was wrong. This isn’t only Gerald’s revenge for spitting on him. All along, he’s been looking to start a confrontation because he plans to stage a coup.

He needs chaos to take Father down, and now that he’s caught us, he’s going to use burning me and Liam to death to do it.