Page 53 of Thorn Season (Thorn Season #1)

T hey wouldn’t leave me alone.

First the servants—steering me inside, fussing like nervous matrons. Then the gentry, converging in the grand foyer in a feeble show of solidarity.

“They’re dangerous creatures. I’ve always said so!”

“Holding a knife to the lady of Vereen! Can you imagine—?”

“I thought His Majesty would execute us all just for being there.”

“Fractured ribs, they suspect—”

“I saw him pop his own shoulder back into its socket. He was too enraged to feel the pain.”

Their babbling went over my head. The only noble I cared about was Junius.

I pulled Carmen aside, but she whispered without my prompting, “Junius took Quincy from the palace. Once Keil—the ambassador—pulled you away, Erik wasn’t interested in anything except getting you back.”

A small victory, at least.

The voices around us suddenly became hushed and uneasy.

Even Carmen took a clumsy step backward.

Then the guards marched from the ballroom, rushing past me like a stream around an island, the movement stirring my hair.

I turned to see them tumble out into the night.

When I turned back, Erik was blazing toward me.

I tried not to recoil as he clasped my chin and tilted my face upward.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked roughly, eyes pale with fury. Blood matted his hair on the left side.

“I’m fine,” I croaked, feeling every gaze upon us.

“My guards will find him. I will break every part of him that touched you.”

“No,” I blurted, then gulped and said, “I’m safe now. That’s all that matters.”

The muscles worked in his jaw. His expression softened as he looked me over. And with a tenderness I hadn’t anticipated, he lowered a kiss to my brow.

I was speechless as he reeled out instructions to the servants: to see me to my chambers, prepare my hearth, bring up hot stew and stir some nightmilk into the broth.

I didn’t have time to think of Keil’s whispered words until the maids ushered me upstairs and dressed me in silk nightclothes.

The moment they left, I ripped the clothes straight off.

Tari scrambled into my chambers minutes later, a sodden dishcloth tucked into her pinafore trousers. She said between wheezing breaths, “You had to save the theatrics—for the one night I was on— kitchen duty ?!”

I told the story as I dressed, then nodded to my untouched tray. “Erik told the servants to give me nightmilk. They should think I’m asleep. But if he thinks to check on me himself—”

“He won’t get the chance.” Tari’s eyes flickered with a fast-forming plan.

“I’ll sneak some nightmilk into his favorite whiskey bottle—the one he doesn’t let the courtiers touch.

He’ll blame the weariness on his injuries and go straight to his own chambers to avoid passing out in front of the gentry. ”

Reminded of how brilliant she was, how safe I felt in her hands, I faced her fully. The harsh words between us seemed so far away now, meaningless in the scope of tonight.

Still, I said, “I’m sorry. Everything I said before—”

“Was horrible, and spiteful, and you’ll be paying me back in expensive gifts for the next decade, but you can start”—she grasped my hand—“by not getting caught.”

I squeezed her fingers, nodded, and strode out.

The palace was in chaos. I needn’t have bothered with my hooded cloak; nobody would’ve noticed me even dressed in one of Carmen’s bright ensembles.

Servants and nobles skittered through every corridor, gossip issuing hot from their tongues like fresh blades from a forge.

Reports of Keil’s Wielding were already being spun into elaborate fiction, but I refused to listen as I raced toward the stables.

If these Wholeborns knew anything about specters, they’d have noticed my raw, ragged exhaustion after Erik had been thrown.

They’d have seen Keil’s composure and realized he couldn’t have produced an outburst of that kind.

For once, I was grateful of their ignorance. Unlike Keil, I wouldn’t have made it out of the palace alive.

I now rode easily through the hidden servants’ gate. And, recalling the location Keil had whispered in my ear, I snapped the reins and raced ahead.

A damp, briny smell suffused the air as I neared Emberly River, the moonlit strip separating my province from the capital. The rushing current covered all sound as I tied the horse amid the foliage where she wouldn’t be seen.

Not that there was anyone here to hide from.

I inched toward the bridge, suddenly hesitant. Keil had whispered the location in a post-battle heat, when his decisions were still driven by impulse. Once his faculties had returned, had he remembered my cruelty toward him? Had he regretted saving me?

My hopes had just begun to fall when a shadow shifted under the bridge.

And Keil stepped onto the bank.

I halted. Even my specter stilled. A moment of uncertainty stretched between us, my own shallow breathing seemingly echoed in the quick up-and-down of his shoulders.

Then I felt a shove inside me—not from my specter, but from somewhere deeper—and I was in his arms, drinking his scent like a parched woman guzzling water. He held me tightly, head burrowed in the crook of my neck. His chest swelled against mine as he took a slow, deep inhale.

That was when I noticed his too-solid contours. I drew back enough to run my eyes down his matte leather armor—the same armor he’d worn the night we’d met. It was jarring to see him looking like a soldier again. How had so much changed since then?

I pulled back all the way, and Keil’s arms slid off me slowly, unready to let go. We assessed each other for several seconds, the breeze rippling my cloak.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said at last, trying to sound firm. “You didn’t owe me anything. Not really.”

He gave a tentative smile. “If you think I did it because I owed you something, you haven’t been paying attention.”

“They would have killed you.”

“They would’ve killed one of us. At least I had an escape plan. It was a convincing performance, don’t you think?” He blinked, and his face grew serious. “Did I hurt you?”

I shook my head, and he exhaled.

“Your empress won’t be happy,” I said.

He winced. “No, she won’t be. In one night, I single-handedly proved every terrible thing most people believe about Wielders.”

I dropped my stare, not wanting to see if regret lined his expression.

But Keil dipped his head to catch my eye, forcing my gaze to rise with him. Showing me the sincerity in his face as he said, “I would do it again.”

I swallowed hard, even as my shoulders relaxed. The events of the evening—of the entire season—were beginning to layer over me. I hadn’t realized how tired I was.

Keil’s palm settled against the curve of my cheek, achingly warm on my wind-bitten skin. He’d moved closer at some point, and I wanted nothing more than to sink into him again.

“You could have told me,” he said, his voice as gentle as his touch. “All this time, you’ve been hiding. You’ve been fighting alone. And I never even...” He trailed off, shaking his head like he had in the ballroom.

I’d caught him trying to puzzle me out so many times, agonizing over the missing piece. Now here I was, whole and unguarded before him, and he couldn’t seem to believe the final image.

“I saw your pain,” he said quietly, thumb glancing over my cheek, “but I didn’t know what it meant. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m a good actress.” A lump formed in my throat.

“You have to know, I never meant—I wouldn’t have—” Wouldn’t have betrayed your secrets.

Wouldn’t have let Erik hurt you. Even in my darkest moments, I hadn’t really considered it—and not because Keil was a Wielder, but because he was Keil .

Because he’d coaxed something soft and intimate from inside me—something I couldn’t quite destroy.

He must have read the truth in my silence because he sighed with a faint smile. An acknowledgment that he knew—he’d always known—I wasn’t a viper.

I looked away again, but Keil cupped my face between both hands, lifting it until he was all I could see—shadows softening the strong lines of his features, moonlight silvering his lashes.

“Come with me,” he said, and the whispered words flurried against my skin. “You can be free in Ansora. You can be happy .”

I closed my hands around Keil’s wrists but didn’t push him away. Swathed in darkness, muffled by the rustling foliage, I could almost pretend that the world beyond this riverbank didn’t exist. Almost.

“I can’t leave. I have my province. My people. And...” I hesitated. “There are things I still need to do here.”

Keil’s pulse jumped beneath my fingers. “You can’t marry him.”

I blew out a hot breath, too pained to be laughter. “Is that jealousy again, Ambassador?”

His face remained sober as he repeated, “Come with me.”

I opened my mouth just as whinnies sounded in the distance. Panic seized me.

But Keil burst into action. He swept me under the bridge and put us shoulder-to-shoulder, our backs pressed to the damp stones as the river current roared below.

Voices bellowed over hoofbeats—four, maybe five in total. Their timbres were rough and eager. Ready for a fight.

Erik must have armed them with dullroot.

Keil nudged me further into the shadows, one arm stretched defensively across me. His spare hand rested on the dagger at his belt.

The voices neared, crossing the bridge over our heads.

I counted my thudding heartbeats as the river sprayed our boots.

My specter still felt fragile, pulsating at the surface, but I fought to strengthen it.

It would only take one guard to report my whereabouts to Erik, and this would all have been for nothing. The king would know the truth.

The voices rang clearer now, gathering on our side of the river. Keil shifted his body to cover mine.

A dull thump —so quiet I might’ve imagined it.