Page 25 of Warrior Princess (Blood Weaver Trilogy #3)

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A s dawn painted the sky in streaks of vibrant pink and orange, the Grasslands came alive with the sounds of preparation. Horses neighed and the chatter of the warriors traveling with us echoed through the crisp morning air. Ronan and I, alongside Chief Aryan and Shiro, were gearing up for the journey to Eldwain for King Alwyn’s funeral. The mood was somber, yet tinged with a sense of urgency.

Chief Aryan, a formidable figure with his stern demeanor and battle-scarred leathers, was the first to mount his horse—a robust stallion that seemed as eager as its rider to set out. Shiro, ever the enigmatic figure, chose to transform into his fox form, saying it was easier to travel long distances this way.

In his fox form, Shiro was a stunning creature with fur as white as fresh snow. His coat subtly glimmered with faint hints of silver, which lent him an ethereal quality. His eyes, deep and perceptive, remained a piercing shade of amber, standing out starkly against his pale fur. The creature’s movements were fluid and graceful, with a tail that swayed like a plume of smoke behind him. Despite his serene appearance, there was an unmistakable air of ancient wisdom and formidable power that clung to him, marking him as much more than merely a beautiful animal. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the majestic creature… until Chief Aryan spoke.

“We’ll skirt around Ellyndor, go through the Central Plains, and move south into Eldwain,” Chief Aryan instructed as he adjusted his cloak. “Keep a sharp eye. We’re not traveling through friendly territories.”

Ronan nodded and checked the tie down straps of our saddles before helping me mount my horse. “This will be a long ride,” he warned, then softened it with a reassuring smile. “Let me know if you get tired and we’ll rest.”

We rode out of the Grasslands, the familiar rolling hills slowly giving way to the flatter, more open landscapes of the Central Plains. The air grew cooler as we progressed, and the sparse vegetation of the Grasslands was replaced by the occasional bustling market town and expansive farmlands of the Plains.

As we traveled, I felt the weight of the unknown pressing down on us. “Do you think we’ll find Abigail in Eldwain?” I asked Ronan quietly, riding close enough to speak without straining.

“It’s our best chance,” he replied, casting a glance at the horizon. “Whatever secrets are lurking, Eldwain will be the place to uncover them.”

Our path took us near Ellyndor’s border, a land shrouded in mystery and tightly closed off to outsiders. We kept a respectful distance, knowing that crossing into Ellyndor uninvited could provoke a diplomatic incident.

Chief Aryan rode at the head of our small caravan and kept his vigilant gaze on the path ahead with practiced caution. “We’ll stop at Marsten for the night,” he called back to us, referring to a small town known for its hospitality towards travelers in the Plains.

Running agilely alongside us, Shiro seemed unaffected by the long journey. His fox form allowed him to conserve energy, and his keen senses were an additional safeguard against potential threats.

That evening, we entered Marsten. The town’s modest inns and taverns provided a welcome respite from the day’s travel. The locals were wary but respectful, offering food and lodging without delving too deeply into our reasons for passing through. King Alwyn’s death might still be a secret from the general population.

After taking a moment to settle in and wash off the grime of our ride, we sat in a quiet corner of the inn’s dining hall. Chief Aryan curtly established the rules for our trip to Eldwain. “No funny business,” he advised. “Eldwain is in mourning. The funeral will have many eyes turned towards it, and the last thing we need is to stand out. Do I make myself clear?”

Ronan agreed, his expression serious. “We’ll attend the funeral, pay our respects, and prepare to return to the Grasslands. We won’t start any trouble.”

I nodded, understanding the delicate balance we needed to maintain if we intended to quietly ask around about the midwife. “I’ll be careful,” I assured him, feeling the dual burden of putting not just Valoria, but the Crimson Clan at risk if I started any trouble.

Night fell in earnest and the travelers retreated to our rooms, each step laden with the responsibilities that awaited in Eldwain. The instant Ronan closed the door behind us, our room became a temporary sanctuary from the intricate web of politics and secrets enveloping Asteria.

“Do you think your father has any idea what we’re planning?” I asked quietly, my voice barely a whisper as I changed out of my travel-stained clothes and into my nightgown.

Ronan watched me for a moment, his eyes thoughtful. “I doubt he knows the specifics about Abigail, but he’s sharp. He might sense that we’re hiding something.” He slowly unbuttoned his pants with deliberate movements, each motion seeming to underscore the seriousness of our conversation.

I stepped closer and helped him out of his leathers. “We don’t have to search for Abigail if it’s too risky,” I offered, looking up into his crimson eyes and searching for any sign of hesitation.

He caught my hands in his and brought them to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Leila, finding Abigail and uncovering the truth—if it’s important to you, it’s important to me. We’ll be cautious, I promise.” His voice was firm, yet the underlying tenderness made my heart flutter.

With my dust-worn clothes lying in a heap on the floor, I finally felt the tension from the day begin to melt away under his gaze. Ronan finished undressing and joined me by the bed, his presence a comforting constant. We climbed into bed, the sheets cool against our skin.

“With everything going on, I’m just... really glad you’re here with me,” I admitted.

Ronan pulled me into his arms, the warmth of his tattooed body a stark contrast to the chilly night air seeping through cracks in the walls. “I’ll always be here, Leila. No matter what we find out, no matter where this journey takes us,” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear.

He kissed me softly, his lips lingering with a promise of unwavering support. The room was quiet, the only sound our synchronized breathing.

“Let’s get some rest.” He pulled the blankets over us. “We’ll need our strength for tomorrow.”

As I nestled closer, the uncertainty of our mission was tempered by the security of his embrace. No matter what the next day held, being together gave us the courage to face it.

The morning dawned clear and bright. We set out from Marsten, the horses refreshed and eager beneath us. The landscape of the Central Plains stretched out in a seemingly endless expanse of rolling hills and golden fields, the horizon occasionally broken by the silhouette of a distant forest or a lone farmhouse.

Ronan and I rode close together, our hands occasionally brushing as we adjusted our reins. Chief Aryan led our small caravan, his figure imposing even from a distance, with Shiro flanking the group in his white fox form, his fur almost glowing in the sunlight.

“We’ll be crossing into Eldwain by late afternoon if we keep this pace,” Chief Aryan called back to us over his shoulder. His voice was carried away by the wind, adding to the sense of vastness around us.

As we approached the Eldwain border, the scenery began to change. Stark plains gave way to dense woods, and the air grew cooler and tinged with a hint of something magical—perhaps due to our proximity to the land of the half-fae.

As we crossed the border, the first thing that struck me was the change in the trees. They were taller, with silver-grey trunks and leaves that shimmered with a subtle iridescence. Eldwain’s natural beauty was unlike anything in the human lands, ethereal and slightly otherworldly.

“Eldwain,” Ronan whispered next to me, his voice filled with a mix of awe and caution.

Traveling further into their lands, we started to pass small towns. Silver-haired individuals were visible in the distance, tending to the lush gardens that surrounded their homes. With finely chiseled features, their movements were graceful and seemed almost choreographed. It was clear we had entered a land where human ruggedness met fae elegance.

“We should keep to the main road and avoid unnecessary attention,” Ronan advised, scanning our surroundings with a strategic eye. “Eldwain’s hospitality is reserved mostly for their own kind, and our presence won’t go unnoticed.”

We nodded in agreement and vowed to keep a low profile as we journeyed deeper into Eldwain. The road wound through vibrant green meadows sprinkled with wildflowers and past clear streams that sang over pebbles, the tinkling melody adding to the land’s enchantment.

Despite the beauty, tension was prevalent, along with the feeling of being watched.

Shiro, who had shifted back into his human form, remained vigilant, his senses tuned to the hidden corners of the woods. “Stay alert,” he murmured, his eyes scanning the tree line. “Eldwain may be lovely, but it’s also home to many who are not fond of outsiders, just like their ancestors from Ellyndor.”

The path gradually began to ascend, leading us through a series of gentle slopes towards a higher vantage point. From there, we could see the sprawling layout of Eldwain’s capital in the distance, its spires catching the sunlight and casting long shadows across the valley below.

“We’ll rest here for a moment,” Chief Aryan decided. He dismounted near a cluster of trees. “Keep your eyes open, and let’s prepare for what might await us in the capital.”

During this brief respite, I was both excited and nervous about the days ahead. I sat on the grass with my back against a tree, trying to calm my racing thoughts. This far south, the temperature soared to warmer temperatures than we were used to in the north. Sticky sweat clung to my skin.

Proving that he was in tune with my moods and needs, Ronan approached with a waterskin and handed it to me. He grinned. “It may not be wine, but it’ll do.”

I chuckled. “I guess.” I took a big gulp.

Ronan squatted in front of me and brushed damp tendrils away from my face. “We’ll be there soon. Just hang in there,” he encouraged.

I smiled up at him. “I’m fine, Ronan. Don’t worry.”

All too soon, we climbed back onto our horses and resumed our journey to Eldwain’s capital. Ronan and Shiro stuck close to me, much to Chief Aryan’s visible displeasure.

The capital of Eldwain emerged before us like a vision from a fairytale. Nestled in a valley where silver-barked trees gave way to verdant green spaces, the city was a blend of nature and architecture, with buildings that seemed to sprout from the ground itself. Roofs were thatched with vibrant green straw, similar to the leaves of the forest, with walls constructed of smooth, light stone that shimmered under the sun’s rays.

As we inched closer, the ethereal quality of the city became even more pronounced. Waterways coursed through the city like glittering veins, with delicate bridges arching over them to connect various parts of the capital. The main road into the city was lined with lanterns hanging from intricately wrought posts, their light soft and welcoming as evening approached.

The streets of Eldwain’s capital bustled with activity. It wasn’t just the half-fae locals; there were also faces from across Asteria, marking the diverse attendance that King Alwyn’s funeral commanded. I noticed a group from Valoria, their crescent moon birthmarks distinctive even from a distance. There were also contingents from the Central Plains and even a few from the more secluded regions of Keldara, their rugged features a stark contrast to the refined elegance of the Eldwain citizens.

Market squares spread throughout the city were filled with stalls selling everything from exotic spices to intricate jewelry, each vendor showcasing the wealth of their homeland. The air was thick with the scents of cooking food, sweet perfumes, and the fresh, clean smell of Eldwain’s magical flora.

As we moved through the capital, the diversity of the crowd reminded us of the interconnectedness of Asteria’s realms. Despite the beauty and festivity of the market, there was an undercurrent of solemnity. Everyone was here to pay their respects to a king, and perhaps, to witness the unfolding of events that would inevitably follow in the wake of his passing.

“When will the funeral be held?” I asked as we neared the inn where we would lodge during our visit.

“Three days’ time,” Ronan confirmed as we dismounted our horses and tied them to the hitching post near a stable to get fed and watered.

Chief Aryan remained on his horse. “Don’t go far. I have some business to take care of. I’ll be back soon.” With a sharp snap of the reins, he trotted down the road.

“Where is he going?” Ronan asked Shiro.

“Don’t worry about Aryan,” Shiro countered. “This is the perfect time for you two to look for Abigail.”

“Where do we even begin? It’s not like we can roam the streets asking for her,” I said as I brushed my horse’s mane.

“She was a midwife, was she not?” Shiro began. “Start there.”

I looked over at Ronan. “Shall we search for a healer’s quadrant?”

“It doesn’t hurt to try there.” Ronan shrugged. “Let’s go and ask where we can find one.”

“I’ll go with you. If things have not changed too much since my time, I think I might know where to find them.” Shiro waved us forward.

We left the inn’s stable and headed towards the center of Eldwain's capital, where Shiro suggested the healer's quarter might be located. The streets of the city were a blend of enchanted beauty and bustling activity, with locals and visitors moving with purpose or meandering through the markets. The aroma of spiced pastries lingered in the crisp, drawing lines of people eager to sample local delicacies.

As we approached a more secluded part of the city, the architecture became less grandiose and more functional. Small, practical homes and shops with signs depicting various herbs and potions indicated we had found the healer's quarter. The area held a calm, almost hushed atmosphere compared to the vibrant market square we'd just passed through.

“Looks promising,” Ronan murmured, scanning the storefronts for any sign that might indicate a midwife's presence.

We stopped at a small clinic, its sign decorated with a red cross and an image of a stork carrying a bundle. A bell tinkled as we entered, and a woman with silver streaks through her tightly braided hair looked up from her desk.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her gaze inquisitive but friendly.

“Yes, we're looking for a midwife named Abigail,” I started, trying to keep my voice even. “She’s Valorian and moved here some years ago, approximately five.”

The woman's face remained impassive for a moment before softening. “Are you a family member of hers?” She pointed to her forehead, indicating my birthmark.

“Uh… yes,” I lied.

The woman sighed. “Oh, goodness, this is wonderful! She’ll be thrilled. She’s been missing her daughter who she hasn’t seen since arriving to Eldwain.”

My brows shot up to my hairline and I stepped closer to the woman. “So you know her?”

She nodded. “Who doesn’t? She’s the only Valorian in Eldwain.”

“Do you know where we can find her?” Ronan stepped forward.

The woman narrowed her gaze on Ronan, then let it travel to Shiro behind him. She looked skeptical and wary. It was very obvious they were of the Crimson Clan with their crimson eyes, long, braided hair, and tattooed bodies. The woman leaned forward and whispered to me, “Are you okay, dear? Do you need help?”

Shiro snorted and I sent him a glare, to which he held up his hands in surrender and walked out of the clinic. I turned back to the woman and offered a bright smile. “Yes, I’m fine. These men are my friends.”

She looked as if she didn’t believe me but nodded anyway. “You can find her in the clinic down the street from here, but lately Abigail hasn’t been working much. She’s quite mysterious, that one. You’ll most likely find her in the tavern. I believe the one she frequents is… Jolly’s Tavern.” She tapped her chin. “Yes, yes. Jolly’s is the one.”

“Thank you so much!” I took Ronan’s wrist and ushered him out the door before she started asking questions. “We appreciate your help!” I called over my shoulder. She continued yelling after us, trying to give us directions to the tavern, but she seemed like a talker. Beyond not wanting to get stuck in an hour-long conversation, I also didn’t want to be caught up in my lie of being Abigail’s daughter.

We met Shiro outside. He quirked a brow. “So?”

“Jolly’s Tavern,” I replied, then started walking down the street. “We can ask for directions.” Ronan and Shiro followed me without a word.

Ronan stopped the first person we saw to ask for directions to the tavern, but fear encompassed their expression and they ran away. Next, Shiro tried, but got the same response. It seemed like the locals feared those of the Crimson Clan. It also didn’t help that Shiro had a bushy white tail.

I sighed and pushed past them both. “Let me try.” I stopped an Eldwain woman carrying a baby in her arms. “Excuse me, but could you direct me to Jolly’s Tavern?”

She smiled and pointed toward the center of town, then she noticed my two bodyguards behind me and clammed up. With a startled gasp, she ran away with her baby.

I blew out a breath. “By the goddess,” I murmured. “At least we know it’s near the city center.”

Shiro started walking in the direction where the half-fae woman had pointed before running away. “That’s better than walking in circles around here.”

We walked side by side, which elicited quite a few startled looks from the locals. After we crossed a bridge that spit us out in the center of town, we saw Jolly’s Tavern. The place was packed with people from all over Asteria.

“Wine half off!” someone standing outside the tavern yelled. “In the name of our late king, let’s drink to our fill!”

Cheers rang out in the tavern and in the streets and everyone raised a glass in King Alwyn’s name.

The crowd parted with several startled gasps as we strode into the tavern. I scanned the patrons, searching for a Valorian woman, which proved to be a difficult venture when I realized how many Valorians were inside.

“How can we tell who she is without asking someone?” I murmured to Ronan and Shiro.

Ronan's gaze swept across the room, taking in the raucous laughter and the clinking of glasses as patrons celebrated and mourned in equal measure. “We may need to rely on more than just visual cues. Let's think about what we know—she's a midwife, so she might discuss topics related to her profession, perhaps even in passing.”

Shiro nodded, his eyes sharp and focused. “We listen,” he suggested, his voice low. “We move through the crowd, and listen in to conversations without intruding. If she's here and talking to someone, she might mention something about her work or past.”

I agreed, suddenly feeling a bit more hopeful. “If we split up, we can cover more ground. Let’s meet back here in an hour. If one of us finds her, don't approach. Just come back and report.”

Ronan squeezed my hand briefly before we parted ways, each trying our best to blend into the crowd. The interior was dimly lit, and the air was thick with the smell of roasted meat and spiced wine. I drifted near a group of women; their conversation was light and punctuated by laughter. Moving on, I edged closer to a pair of older men discussing the properties of various medicinal herbs—a topic that piqued my interest, but they weren't who I was looking for.

An hour slipped by quickly. We reconvened at the designated spot, each of us shaking our heads. No luck. The noise and sheer number of people made it difficult to eavesdrop effectively or pick out anyone who might be Abigail.

“Maybe it’s time to be more direct,” Ronan suggested, frustration edging his voice. “Ask around subtly. See if anyone bites.”

Shiro agreed. “It's riskier, but we're running out of time. Let's try a few questions. If we're careful, we shouldn't draw too much attention.”

With a new plan in mind, we each took a section of the tavern. I approached the bartender, a burly man with a friendly face who was wiping down the counter.

“Excuse me,” I started, my voice casual. “I'm looking for a friend. She's a midwife, moved here from Valoria a few years back. She's helped a lot of families here, I bet.”

The bartender paused, his expression thoughtful. “A midwife, eh? We've got a few of those around, but one from Valoria... Yeah, might know who you're talking about. Keeps to herself mostly, comes in now and then for a drink. Haven't seen her tonight, though.”

I offered a smile. “Thanks.”

As we regrouped to share our findings, I relayed the bartender's words. “It's not much, but it's something. Maybe she'll come by later. At least now we have confirmation that she comes here pretty regularly.”

Ronan nodded, though Shiro's face was unreadable. “We stay a bit longer,” Shiro decided. “Watch the door; see if she comes in. If not, we come back tomorrow.”

Settling into a corner with a good view of the entrance, we ordered drinks and attempted to blend in, although each of us was alert to every new face that entered the tavern. Our vigilance remained constant as the night deepened, hope mingling with the growing fatigue of a long day.

“We should go soon,” Ronan said with a yawn. We hadn’t rested much since our travels. “My father might be looking for us in the inn.”

“He won’t,” Shiro reassured us. “We can stay a bit longer.”

Ronan furrowed his brows. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Shiro shrugged. “Of course. But it won’t do you any good to ask questions because I won’t tell you.”

Ronan sighed and rolled his eyes. “Of course you won’t. Why am I not surprised?”

Shiro grinned and then his face turned serious as he turned his attention back to scanning the tavern. “Oh, look over there!” He motioned with his head toward the door. “That’s a Valorian woman… and she’s alone.”

I looked toward where he motioned and saw an older woman in her late fifties to early sixties with auburn hair and the birthmark on her forehead that made her unmistakenly Valorian.

“That’s her,” I murmured and quickly stood before them and hurried toward her. I tugged her sleeve and turned her to face me. “Abigail?” I asked with a raised brow.

She frowned. “Who’s asking?” she said defensively.

I knew right then and there that I’d found her. I leaned forward and whispered, “Princess Lyanna, that’s who.”

Her eyebrows shot up and she gasped, then ripped her sleeve from my grip. She frantically looked around the tavern and I saw the moment she noticed Ronan and Shiro. Before I could say another word, she spun on her heels and darted out of the tavern.

Without taking time to see if Ronan and Shiro were following, I ran after her. For an older woman, she was quite agile as she swerved through the crowd, running at a speed I never would’ve imagined she could run. The cool night air sliced against my skin as we wove through Eldwain’s bustling streets. The cobblestones were slick from an earlier rain, making the pursuit even more perilous. We dodged between market stalls and startled onlookers, causing a scene I knew would cost me later.

Ronan and Shiro were right behind me, their heavier footsteps thudding on the stone pavement. “Leila, be careful!” Ronan called out, concern lacing his voice as we navigated through a particularly crowded square.

When Abigail made a sharp turn down a narrow alleyway, I pressed forward, my heart pounding. The alley was dimly lit, lined with overflowing bins and the back entrances of shops. As I rounded the corner, I saw her figure silhouetted against the faint light emanating from a gas lamp at the end of the alley.

She was trapped; the alley was a dead end.

I slowed my pace as I approached, catching my breath, while Ronan and Shiro quickly caught up. “Abigail, please, we just want to talk.” I extended my hand in a gesture of peace.

Abigail, cornered and visibly shaken, pressed herself against the wall. “Why? Why now?” Her voice trembled. “After all these years?”

“Because after all these years, these secrets are finally catching up to us and I want to be prepared,” I explained gently, hoping to coax the fear out of her. “You're the only one who can help us.”

Ronan stepped forward, his stalwart presence reassuring. “We're not here to harm you. We're here to uncover the truth, that’s all. We believe it might help with current events in Valoria.”

Shiro remained silent, his keen eyes watching for any sudden moves, though it was clear Abigail was no threat physically.

Seeing that she was calming down, I took another step closer. “Please, Abigail. Help us understand what happened.”

Her resistance slowly melted as she looked into my earnest, pleading eyes. Finally, she nodded, her shoulders slumping as the fight left her. “Alright,” she sighed. "I’ll tell you everything I know.”

As we stood there in the alley, with the walls of Eldwain around us and the stars above, Abigail began to unravel the threads of a tale that would shake the foundations of our understanding of Valoria’s royal family.

“Queen Derinda’s water broke in the middle of the night. As the palace midwife, I was awakened to assist the birth of Queen Derinda’s first child,” she started. She wrung her fingers nervously. “It was a difficult birth. Everything and anything that could go wrong, did. We thought we’d lose both baby and mother. We left the choice for King Malik to make.”

“My father was around?” I asked with furrowed brows.

Abigail nodded. “Yes and no. He was there at the beginning, but was called away to the throne room when King Alwyn made a surprise appearance. King Malik didn’t have long to decide, but he chose to save the baby and not the queen,” she said with a wince. “You have to remember that at that time, King Malik was desperate for an heir and Queen Derinda was having a hard time getting pregnant. It was a hard decision, but one he needed to make for Valoria’s future.”

“King Alwyn was there?” Ronan questioned. “Why?”

Abigail shook her head. “Honestly, I never learned why. And then, after the birth, it was a complete massacre. One I barely managed to escape.” Her bottom lip trembled as the memories consumed her.

“So what happened?” I asked, pushing her to continue.

“When Queen Derinda heard His Majesty’s choice, she begged and pleaded for us to save them both. She offered everything from land to titles to gold. She was… desperate,” Abigail said with a furrow of her brows. “She was in labor twelve long hours. Finally, the baby began to crown. And that’s when the trouble began.” She gulped and clutched her chest.

“Why? Because it was a stillbirth?” I asked.

Abigail shook her head. “No, because… No, I can’t say it!” she cried. “If I do, they’ll kill me!”

“Who?” Shiro asked, breaking his silence.

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with!” she said as she took a step toward me. “There are evil forces at play. If the truth ever comes to light… it would destroy the very foundation of Valoria… and maybe of all Asteria.”

I grabbed her wrist. “Please, Abigail. I must know. What happened?”

With a grimace, she looked down at the hand that gripped her wrist. I could see the conflict in her gaze as she debated whether to rip herself free or continue.

“The baby… he was born… with silver hair,” she whispered, barely getting the words out.

I frowned before realization dawned on me and I released her as if stung by acid. Luckily Ronan caught me when I stumbled backward. My heart hammered and I was short of breath. I felt the edges of a panic attack closing in.

“Breathe,” Ronan whispered in my ear. “Just breathe, Leila.”

Shiro stepped forward, crossing his arms over his chest. “So… was the baby from Ellyndor or Eldwain?” Shiro asked stoically, as if the midwife hadn’t just dropped the biggest bombshell of the century.

She swallowed thickly and her gaze dropped to her feet. “Eldwain. He didn’t have pointed ears.”

“The letter!” I turned to face Ronan. “The letter Avery showed us between a mystery woman and the king… it was her !”

Ronan’s brows were furrowed as he attempted to catch up to my thinking and rationalize everything. He handed me over to Shiro before addressing Abigail. Ronan reached for the pouch of coin strapped at his waist. “This should be enough Glint to get you far, far away from all of this.”

Abigail shook her head. “I can’t,” she blurted. “I can never leave here.”

“Why?” Ronan asked.

“There are some things I refuse to divulge.” She pushed Ronan’s hand away. “No matter the price. Now please, let me go. Or you’ll be signing my death warrant.”

“But—”

“Just answer me this,” I murmured, cutting Ronan off. “Is this child still alive?”

Abigail met my gaze and winced. “Very much so.”

“Who is it?” Ronan demanded. “Who is he?”

“I can’t say. I refuse to say! Not let me go!” Abigail cried out.

“No—”

“Let her leave,” I choked out. “She’s told us enough.”

Ronan gritted his teeth, but stepped aside and let Abigail leave the darkened alley. We stood there quietly, looking at one another in bewilderment. None of us knew what to say or could possibly predict what would come next.