Текст книги "The poison daughter"

Автор книги: Sheila Masterson

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 48 страниц)

12HARLOW

South Hold should be silent at this hour. I’ve snuck back inside in the dead of night so many times, knowing exactly where the guards are posted and which hinges creak.

But the halls aren’t dark and silent. I freeze inside the kitchen door and strain to hear. Somewhere in the depths of the house, someone is screaming.

I take the back servant staircase two steps at a time, pausing on the landing.

Another shout rings out, a bit closer this time. I continue up and a stair creaks under my foot.

I bite back a curse, pause, and listen to see if a guard will notice. No one comes looking.

The shouting echoes down the hallway, becoming louder and more insistent.

I lean out of the stairwell, peering down the hall. There’s not a guard in sight. The hair on the back of my neck rises. There should be rotations of them. Normally, I wait in this stairwell until the patrol goes by, and then I have three minutes to get down the long corridor to my room. I count my breaths, waiting for guards to appear, but none do.

Another pained scream rings out. It’s coming from the family wing.

With one last glance toward the other stairwell, I dart down the hall.

I slip into my room like a wraith and shrug off my cloak, hanging it on the hook inside my closet. I peel off my dress, pull on a silk nightdress, and wrap myself in my robe. Creeping back to the door, I crack it open and strain to listen.

In the silence, I slip into the hall and pause, hand on my doorknob, waiting for someone to admonish me, but the hall is still empty and no scolding arrives.

My muscles are coiled, unsure whether to flee the house or continue down the hall and see what the commotion is. Every instinct tells me to mind my business, to stay here in my room and lock the doors.

But secrets are currency in this family. If I see something I shouldn’t, I could use it as a bargaining chip.

I gather my courage and start down the hall.

The only people who still live in the family wing of the house are my parents, me, and my oldest brother, Able, and his family. The rest of my siblings reside in the other gatehouses around the city.

I pass Aidia’s old room, beside mine. Then, Kellan’s childhood bedroom across the hall, and on and on until I come to the source of the commotion: Able’s room.

“You should be in bed.”

I jump at Gaven’s whisper so close to my ear.

“Bleeding woods, Gaven! I’m going to put a bell on you, I swear to the Divine,” I gasp, clutching my chest. “It’s not as if I could sleep through this.”

“Especially since you were out and about,” he says, his dark eyes narrowed on me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was getting some tea in the kitchen when the commotion started.” I peek through the cracked bedroom door. “Do you know what’s hap⁠—”

“You can’t escape them! They’ll make you one of them!” Able’s voice is so shrill and panicked.

I shove into his bedroom.

The light is minimal. The dying fire and several candles cast flickering shadows over the walls. My parents are standing by the fireplace, their grim gazes fixed on Able. Several guards are scattered about the perimeter, but three of them hold Able down on the bed.

It’s hard to process what I’m seeing. Able is always calculated, conniving, and calm in an unnerving way that lets you know he’s in control at all times. He’s unrecognizable with the look of horrified panic on his face.

His nightshirt is practically shredded from his flailing hands, his dark hair is matted with sweat, and his deep purple eyes are wide with hysterical terror.

“There’s Drained in the walls. Drained on the stairs. They’re coming for us.” His wild eyes dart to my father. “You!” he growls. “You’re their leader. They’re waiting for your command.”

He bucks against the guards holding him down as my mother and father look on. His aura is flared wide—its blue, pulsing light illuminating the whole room.

“They’re coming for us,” Able shouts. “The halls are full of them. They’re right here.” His eyes widen at the guard pinning his left arm. “You’re one of them!” He takes a wild swing, nearly connecting, but the guard ducks out of the way at the last second.

“Dose him, Divine dammit,” my father says solemnly. “He’ll be better in the morning.”

I recognize the man on Able’s right as his bodyguard, Nick. He’s talking to Able in a steady, calm voice, but Able keeps thrashing. A healer stumbles forward.

On the other side of the room, my sister-in-law Sierra sobs quietly in the corner. Her golden hair is somehow still perfectly twisted into a curling wrap, but the skin around her neck is bruised with Able’s fingerprints.

Anger sparks to life in my chest. Here I am, out hunting violent men, while living under the same roof with my brother, who is hurting his wife.

I shift and finally my mother notices my presence.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says.

I glance at Sierra meaningfully.

“He doesn’t mean it,” my mother says. “He’s trapped in a nightmare. We’ve told Sierra not to sleep in here, but she doesn’t listen.”

The healer shoves a syringe into Able’s arm. His squirming and shouting slow immediately, and his muscles go slack.

“It’s a sedative,” my father says, clearly for my benefit alone since everyone else in the room seems to be used to this. “It’s to help him sleep.” He stands a little straighter. “An heir carries a heavy burden and these kind of nightmares aren’t unusual.”

I know that tone. It’s the one he uses to placate our people. This is a performance, but not one I need to be involved in.

My father glances at the guards. “Leave us.”

The men file out in a rush.

Sierra hovers beside the bed, sniffling. She places a hand on Able’s forehead.

“Leave us,” my father repeats.

She hugs her robe around her body and is ushered out of the room by Gaven. He passes her off to a guard in the hallway, closes the door behind her, and turns to face us.

So Gaven also knows about this. I guess I’m not the only one keeping secrets.

I turn my expectant gaze on my father.

“We believe Able is going mad.” He says it so calmly—like he’s talking about what he ate for dinner and not his son and heir’s sanity.

My mouth goes dry. “Excuse me?”

He frowns as if eternally disappointed that I don’t understand this abrupt news. “You heard me. He’s going mad.”

It’s not an isolated incident—I’d gathered that from the practiced choreography of the guards and the way they were ready with a sedative. I can’t imagine how I have never witnessed this before.

Except I can. I spend several nights a week out hunting.

“Why? How? For how long?” My voice sounds muffled in my ears, like I’m underwater.

“You have to tell her, Harrick,” my mother says. “Gaven will be there with her at Mountain Haven, of course, but she’s going to be alone at times. She needs to be aware of everything that’s at stake should she fail.”

My father clears his throat and adjusts the tie on his robe. He doesn’t look nearly as dignified or threatening in his pajamas, but I wouldn’t make the mistake of telling him so.

He clears his throat. “We have reason to believe that the well is making us mad.”

The words tangle in my brain. The well is healing—magical. It’s the place I go when I need to feel strong.

My mother wrings her hands. “Able is visiting so much more often to help your father lay down the holy fire barrier every night, and it seems like the more he visits the well, the worse it gets. It started very infrequently, but in the last few months, things have—escalated. It seems to be worse at night. It’s fortunate that you’re such a heavy sleeper or you would have noticed sooner.”

Gaven catches my eye and arches a brow, but I am too shaken by the revelation to worry about him taunting me for sneaking out.

The well replenishes our magic. It’s part of the reason that we limit knowledge of the house well. It’s our ancestral secret, in case anything bad happens to the Blood Well.

“But we all go in the well,” I say.

Gaven’s steady gaze is fixed on me. He already knew this. It’s not unusual for him to know things before I do. My father trusts him more than he trusts me, and while it’s not surprising, it does sting.

My father sighs. “Yes, and we know you go more often because of your⁠—”

Defect. He wants to use that word, but my mother has scolded him for using it and now he can’t think of a better word.

My father shifts, his attention sliding to my mother. He wants her to smooth this over because he thinks she holds more sway with me. She shrugs a shoulder like she has nothing to offer, but I think she knows it would fall on deaf ears. It’s been a long time since I cared what she has to say.

“Condition,” my mother suggests.

I know there’s no name for the pain that plagues me, but it still bothers me that no matter how much I do for them, they only see the ways I fall short. As if my own frustration with my body isn’t enough.

They stare at me—waiting for me to speak. After years of being forced to listen to them scheme, it’s satisfying seeing them both at a loss for words. I want to cling to this—the only power I’ve ever had. I want to show them that I’ve inherited their gift for hitting someone where they’re weakest. But I don’t need to say anything. They already know this discovery—the urgency of madness overtaking my brother at the very moment that we face a new external threat—only improves my bargaining power once I get them what they want.

It’s tempting to toy with them, but I’m tired and agitated about leaving tomorrow. I need the quiet of my room to think.

My parents are still looking at me expectantly.

“Are you asking if I’m mad too?” I bite back a startled laugh. “I suppose it’s a distinct possibility. I did just decide to go behind enemy lines by marrying a dangerous man for the second time—after I was promised that my duty had been done.” I shake my head. “Perhaps I am a bit mad. Are you, Father?”

My father grinds his teeth, his face going red with rage. “You know very well that I’m not.”

“Do I?”

I shouldn’t tempt him by pushing, but it’s as if Aidia’s absence has pulled the fire out of me and I can’t let it go like I used to. I spent my childhood thinking that I was the problem—that there was a level of good I could achieve that would satisfy him. I learned to read his shifting moods like changing weather, but no matter how I twisted and turned, no matter how small I made myself, there was no way to avoid his mercurial wrath.

My mother’s voice shakes me from my thoughts. “Have you seen any signs?”

“Signs?”

“Of madness,” she says impatiently.

I shake my head. “No.”

I mentally run through how often I’ve visited the well. I haven’t been much lately because it never really helps anything for my pain during or after an attack. The only thing it does is make me feel more energetic and make my aura brighter and my magic easier to access.

“You can’t think of anything?” my mother presses.

I glance at Gaven, who is still leaning against the wall by the door. “Can you?”

He shakes his head. “All is normal.”

My parents lock eyes.

“Maybe it’s just the attacks for her,” my mother says quietly.

My father nods. “Good, then.”

I look past them to Able, asleep in his bed. “What about Able? If it’s getting worse, shouldn’t he stop going to the well?”

“If he stops going to the well, I cannot defend this city,” my father snaps. “The wall is too big now. We’ve expanded twice during my rule. I can’t power it without him, just like he won’t be able to do it without his heir.”

The gravity of the situation hits me. Every day at sundown, my father and brother pour their power into the specially treated sunstone that lines the top of the city walls. Able takes the northern half of the city, and my father takes the southern half. It takes tremendous concentration and skill to channel enough holy fire to span the entire length of the wall and burn through the night. If either of them goes too mad to wield their magic, there would be nothing left to prevent the Drained from scaling the city walls. The entire population of Lunameade would be defenseless.

Worse, if the well makes us mad and my brother and father are already in its grips, the rest of us are next.

“Was it always like this? The madness?” I ask.

My father shakes his head. “No. It’s recent. No family records make note of it.”

“Would they?” I ask skeptically.

“There are private family notes that only the heir can access. It would be in there,” he says.

I try to trace back our family history to anything that has changed during my father’s rule, but part of the reason the city still stands is that we follow the rule set out by our ancestors, and we don’t deviate. Any changes that have been made in our history have been through the influence of the Divine. Usually, a Harvain-blessed Seer shares a Divine prophecy, but occasionally one of the Divine appears to someone in our family, like in the story about Alistair Carren.

Strict rules are how we have survived remotely in these woods for so long.

“Is that it?” I ask.

My father nods, and I turn to leave wordlessly. Gaven opens the door for me and follows me back to my room.

He makes to go inside, but I stop him. “I hardly think an assassin is in there waiting for me. Go to bed. We have an early morning.”

He frowns but relents, disappearing into his room across the hall.

I wait for his door to click closed before I close and lock mine. Then, I throw myself on the bed, squeezing my eyes closed. There’s a shift in the air, and I sit with a start and spin toward my closet, hand brushing the dagger still strapped to my thigh.

But it’s not a villain standing there in the low firelight. It’s Aidia, looking ghostly pale and exhausted.

“Aidy.” I’m so happy to see her, I almost start crying instantly.

She walks toward me but stops just short of the bed.

My eyes burn as I reach for her, but she steps away and holds up her hands as if to brace against me.

“Don’t. I’m afraid I’m not in hugging shape.”

The relief at seeing her turns to rage. “Your ribs again?”

She smiles half-heartedly. “Just bruised this time. Not broken.”

“I could have Henry fix it. He’s a healer.”

Aidia shakes her head, a hint of fear in her eyes. “Low, I am not letting your broody mountain man waste valuable healing on me when you could need it tomorrow. Your trek to Mountain Haven is dangerous. Now lie down. You should be well-rested for the journey.”

I frown. Just once, I wish she wouldn’t be a big sister. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Officially, you never saw me,” Aidia says.

“And unofficially?” I ask.

She smiles sadly, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I had to say goodbye even if you’ll be back in two weeks.”

I reach my hand out for her, but she doesn’t take it. I don’t know if it’s because she’s afraid she’ll never let me go or if she’s just so fragile right now that any closeness will break her. She’s always been careful not to shatter when I need her to be strong, but now I wish she weren’t.

My eyelids grow heavy as I watch her in the fading firelight.

“You’re going to be fine, and I will see you in a few weeks.”

“What if I’m not?” I ask, blinking up at her.

She smiles softly. “My heart.”

I close my eyes, searching for the steadiness the words bring. “My bones.”

“Our blood.” Our whispers are barely audible.

With my sister’s fingers stroking my hair, I let the exhaustion of the day sweep me into the dark.

OceanofPDF.com

13HARLOW

The shadow of the North Hold guard towers loom over me as I study the elaborate reinforced locking system on the gates. It’s a marvel of engineering, but I haven’t the faintest idea how it works because I’ve never been this close to the gates when they open.

A few yards away, several large geldings stir restlessly as Henry quietly converses with his parents. They brought a remarkably small contingent of guards to the city. I’d expect more security for the leaders of their household. I’m not certain of the scope of a blessing from Asher, the Divine of Endings. Maybe they don’t need a horde of guards. That thought sends a chill up my spine.

I wonder absently how the defenses of Mountain Haven are holding up with them here. How do they keep their wall secure without holy fire? In Lunameade, it’s such a rare magic, gifted by Vardek, the Divine of Protection. My father and Able are the only ones who can wield such magic. But I suppose it’s possible that there is someone similarly blessed hidden somewhere in Mountain Haven.

I try to ignore the fact that somewhere inside the tall walls of the manor behind us, Aidia is probably watching from some high window, taking shallow breaths so as not to hurt her bruised ribs.

I turn and wave, but I know if I lay eyes on her right now, with her staying in her cage and me flying free, I will lose my nerve.

I take three deep breaths in and out to settle the twisting, raw feeling of leaving her. It feels like failing, like surrendering to my parents once again. I can’t shake the sense that I’m letting down the women of the city who count on the Poison Vixen. How can I escape when so many others are trapped?

But if I don’t go, I can’t return with the answers. And if I can’t assess this threat for my parents, I can’t get access to the tunnel.

Fear settles in my bones. When the task was distant, it felt entirely doable, but for the first time, it hits me that I might never return. In trying to find the leverage to save my sister, I might doom her to be trapped here alone forever.

Aidia has always felt stitched to me. I always assumed it would be a sharp rending that separated us, but this is more like a slow, brutal tear. I feel the distance grow by the second, and I haven’t even passed through the gates to the outside world.

The morning is cold, a sharp wind whipping over the wall. I focus on its breath-stealing chill to steady myself.

Henry approaches slowly, perhaps sensing my nervousness, or just waiting for me to turn into a wilting mess. He’s wearing a heavy fur-lined coat and well-worn riding boots, his hair neatly combed back. Much to my annoyance, he looks handsome, like some mythic dark god who drags maidens into the forest.

Though I’ve never been one for devotion, I tilt my chin up, praying to the Divine that everything I’m feeling isn’t written all over my face.

Henry’s gaze lingers behind me. “No parents?”

“We said our farewells last night.”

There’s a hint of disapproval in his frown.

“Careful, Henry. Pity is one step removed from tolerance,” I taunt.

His lips twitch. “Tolerating my wife. Sounds terrible.” Footsteps crunch behind me, and Henry purses his lips. “Seems you’re not forgotten after all. Your brother’s here to see you off.”

I turn in time to see Kellan smile tightly and nod at Henry in the way men do to casually dismiss each other. Henry takes the hint and walks back to his horse by the gate.

Kellan guides me off to the side. “Have everything you need?” he asks.

He means my dagger.

I pat my thigh. “Never leave home without it.”

“Right.” Kellan’s voice is soft. His gaze drifts up to the North Hold mansion, and I know he’s thinking of Aidia, locked away in there like some sort of rare bird. He’s thinking of losing another sister to a brutal man.

“Be careful,” he whispers.

“I’ll be back in a few weeks, Kel. Hug Libby and the kids for me.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Kate is beside herself that she won’t get to be in Aunt Harlow’s wedding. But I told her that you would tell her about it in detail when you return. Considering their customs, I’ll ask you not to.”

I bite back a laugh, so relieved he has the wherewithal to joke when I feel like crying.

Kellan pulls me into a tight hug. “Low, listen,” he whispers. “Our father didn’t want to tell you this because he thought you would back out, but I can’t let you go out there without all of the information.”

“What information?” I whisper, trying to keep my expression neutral.

Henry is watching from about twenty yards away. He fumbles with a saddlebag, but he doesn’t bother to hide that he’s paying close attention.

Kellan leans closer. “There is a chance that they think our father was responsible.”

“For what?”

“For the Drained attack that nearly annihilated them ten years ago.”

I jerk away from Kellan. “What do you mean? We don’t command the Drained.”

Kellan shakes his head, his eyes darting to Henry and back to me. “Focus, Harlow. I just needed you to know that this is dangerous. I don’t know why they’ve shown up after all this time, after all our searching. But I can’t rule out the possibility that they have a score to settle and that they want to use you to do it.”

“Why didn’t you say so before? Why wait until now?” I turn my back to Henry and run a hand over my face to try to master my frustration. I’m so tired of secrets and compartmentalized family knowledge. I am about to walk into a den of vipers and my parents couldn’t bother to tell me.

“It wasn’t something you needed to know until now,” Kellan says. This is how he operates, in secrets—in only sharing what someone needs to know in the moment and hoarding the rest to himself. It’s how he’s kept the city in line all these years.

“How could they blame us for what the Drained do?” I ask after a long pause.

Kellan rubs the back of his neck. “Because our father had a choice to make and a responsibility to our people.”

I frown. “Are you saying that there’s merit to their suspicion?”

Kellan looks to where Henry is fastening the saddlebag to his gelding.

“Mountain Haven was full of our people, too,” I say.

“I know that!” he whispers. “But if that horde came to our gates, they could have torn through the city, getting stronger and stronger as they went. Sometimes you have to sacrifice the few to save the many.”

I am trying so hard to stay calm, but I can barely keep my voice to a whisper. “There were thousands of people at Mountain Haven.”

“There are tens of thousands more here,” he says.

I stare at him. “Surely you’re not okay with that. You knew many of those people.”

He nods to Henry. “Not him, though.”

He’s right, but the way he talks about it like it’s a math equation and not human lives lost irks me.

“So, just to be clear. Ten years ago, our father somehow directed a horde of Drained away from our gates and toward Mountain Haven. For ten years, we believed that horde annihilated them, only to be surprised when they suddenly reemerged seeking a wife for their heir. And now you’re sending me, your sister, who has already married once to protect this family, with a stranger who thinks I killed his sister, in the hopes I can find out what exactly they want?” My tone is calm, my face placid, but inside my heart is frenzied, slamming against my ribs.

Kellan frowns, his lilac eyes cast down. “Yes. That about sums it up.”

“What if they kill me the moment I arrive? What if they drop me in the forest and let the Drained have me as revenge?” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him what exactly I’m heading into—a marriage to an unkillable husband—but something stops me. Some nagging voice in the back of my mind urges me to hold on to my secrets, not out of some misplaced loyalty to Henry so much as a desire to keep hold of valuable information as a form of currency. Kellan has proven once again how often my family does this to me. I should learn the lesson they keep teaching me.

The weight of our history is mine alone to bear. My father has slighted the Havenwoods, and it cost them an heir. Perhaps my parents don’t know that the Havenwood heir died. Maybe they assume that Henry always was the heir, or they suspect that the Havenwoods have other children.

Even so, my parents are comfortable sending me into hostile territory, knowing that the Havenwoods might be using me to get their revenge.

I meet my brother’s worried gaze. Kellan is so rational and steady. If he says there’s reason to be concerned, he must have evidence to believe that’s the case, but there’s nothing I can do now but be careful.

He nods at Gaven. “I’ve informed Gaven, but two of you are no match for an entire fort of them. If things get bad, I’ve shared everything I know about the fort with Gaven. He’ll share it with you when he has a chance, but you should also try to find out more from Henry. Be smart and do what you must to survive.”

Kellan kisses my cheek and pulls away. He takes one last look at me before turning away and striding back toward North Hold.

I watch him go as Gaven steps up beside me. “I’ve guarded you since you were an infant, Harlow, and I haven’t let anyone touch a hair on your head.”

I glare at him. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

He looks away. “I have not let anyone else touch a hair on your head, and I don’t intend to start now, but you have to be wise and hold that sharp tongue of yours. We will be surrounded by enemies, and if you want to do what you set out to do, you must be patient.”

I wave a hand, more because I’m annoyed than because I sense Henry’s approach by his looming aura.

He offers his arm to guide me to a horse, and I take it.

“Does he have a blessing?” Henry asks, glancing at Gaven.

My bodyguard has already mounted his horse and is sitting tall, waiting to depart.

“That’s an awfully personal question,” I say.

“It’s a necessary one, I’m afraid. I’m bringing him into my home,” Henry says.

I frown. “No, he doesn’t.”

Henry’s lips twitch. “It’s a comfort to know you’re such a terrible liar, lovely.”

I can’t tell if he knows I’m lying for real or if he’s bluffing to get me to confess.

I open my mouth to argue until I realize he’s led me to his enormous gelding.

Henry looks me over with a scowl on his face. “You aren’t dressed warmly enough.”

“These are the warmest clothes I have.” My riding pants are shearling-lined, and aside from the layered undershirt and two sweaters, my cloak is made of heavy plum-colored wool and lined with fur. I could barely make it out of the house before I was sweating. “If I add any more layers, I won’t be able to ride.”

He laughs as if I’m joking and pats the midnight-black horse. “You’re not riding.”

I cross my arms. “Then how do you suppose I’ll get there?”

He shakes his head. “I meant you’re not riding alone. You’ll be riding with me. You’re not a strong enough rider to be on your own. Not when you’ve never left the city walls.”

I stare at him with as much contempt as I can manage.

“The terrain is dangerous and unpredictable, Harlow. I’m sure you’re an excellent rider, but riding for sport inside the safety of these walls is different than riding for your life from a horde of Drained. I have a responsibility to keep you safe.”

I’m mad at myself for leaving. I’m furious at myself for staying this long. Most of all, I’m angry at myself for being so afraid to run away when I’ve spent my life wishing for the chance. I want to fight. I want to hurt someone. I want to turn my pain into someone else’s.

“Trust me, lovely,” Henry says, his tone unforgivably placating. “I’m not thrilled about it either, but it’s the only way to do this safely. More than just your well-being depends on it.”

I glance toward the gates, and Henry takes a step closer. His hand comes to my hip, his mouth hovering next to my ear. “I know you look out there and see freedom. You think that it’s daylight and nothing can get to you—but a mile into the forest, the canopy is thick and we will have to ride very hard. You may not want to hear it, but I won’t put your ego over your safety.”

I blow out a resigned breath.

He slaps a hand on my ass. “Now get on the fucking horse, like a good little wife.”

I want to slap him back, but his antics have caught everyone’s attention, and Kellan’s warning is fresh in my mind.

Bryce winks at me from atop his mount. Carter is grinning beside him on a giant black gelding.

Henry boosts me onto his gelding and climbs up behind me.

The leather creaks below me as I try to shift away from him, but he wraps a hand around my waist and pulls me back against his body.

“It’ll be an easier ride if you just relax,” he says, his breath ghosting over my ear. “Besides, the last time you were pressed against me, you seemed to like it just fine.”

“Asshole,” I grumble.

He chuckles as he raises a hand to signal the gatekeeper.

The gears grind and the large metal gate swings outward. The second they’re open, Carter and Bryce lead the group into the wild.

For most of my life, I have seen the Drained Wood through windows, in misty glimpses from the top of the wall, or through the slats of the gates that lead to the outside world. Now I’m going to venture into it.

The moment I cross over the threshold into the rest of the world feels like the first moment I’ve ever drawn a full breath. The scent of moss and damp, leafy pulp mixed with fresh pines mingles into a welcoming aroma.

I don’t understand what’s happening to me. I draw in gasping breaths. My chest has unclenched for what feels like the first time in my life, and my eyes burn with tears.

I was not expecting such a visceral reaction. I squeeze my eyes closed, praying to the Divine that Henry won’t notice.

“Take it easy, lovely. You’ll be back soon,” he murmurs, his voice low so that no one else will hear.

I try to master myself, but the dam has burst and humiliating tears stream down my face. I draw in another deep breath, and it’s as if the air is moving everything that’s been trapped in my body out all at once.

“I’m not upset,” I manage.

“Could have fooled me,” he says, slowing our horse and handing me a handkerchief.

“I’m not upset about leaving,” I say.

I don’t know how to express what I am. It feels something like relief. Like I’m finally out of my family’s control, even if I’m still doing their bidding.

“We can go faster now. I’m fine,” I whisper, conscious of the people riding with us and the Drained that could be lurking somewhere within the hollows of the forest.

I have no intention of telling Henry how trapped I’ve felt or that this mission is the most freedom I’ve ever been granted. I’ve lived a lifetime under the weight of my family’s expectations—and the fear of not meeting them—and for the first time, they won’t have an easy way to keep tabs on me for weeks.

“We’ll go a little faster now and then slow down once we’re farther from the gates,” Henry says softly. “I’m sorry you’re upset.”