My dress tangling between my legs, I wish I could discard it already, but I know it’s not safe yet.
I dodge into another side street, this one narrower and darker than the last. I duck behind a stack of crates, pressing myself against the cool stone wall, trying to catch my breath. I can hear Mathis’s voice, fainter now, calling out my name. My heart hammers in my chest as I wait, straining to hear if he’s getting closer.
When I hear nothing but silence, I take a deep breath and start moving again, creeping along the edge of the alley, keeping to the shadows. The city is a maze, but I’ve got to make it out. I just have to. Ahead, I can see the tops of trees. The forest surrounding the city we’d ridden through on our way isn’t far now.
Just a little more, Eira.
But then I hear Mathis again, closer this time, and I know I can’t stop. I duck into another street, this one filled with the smells of cooking and the sound of a distant market. I push through, my heart racing, my mind focused solely on getting away.
Just when I think I’ve lost him, I round a corner and find myself facing a dead end. My heart drops, but I can’t stop now. I spot a narrow gap between two buildings and squeeze through, scraping my arms on the rough stone as I push my way into the darkness.
Claustrophobia presses down on my lungs. Hazy flashbacks of me inside a sweltering wardrobe, and I push them down. I drag in shallow breaths as deeply as they’ll go, counting my steps to distract from the adrenaline almost paralysing me.
Arriving at the other end, the gap finally opens up again, the noise of the market a distant hum. I’m almost there. Almost free. I keep running, the city’s tall buildings rising up around me like a maze of stone and shadow. I’m being led by pure instinct now.
I duck into one last alley, pressing myself against the wall, trying to blend into the shadows. My breath is coming in ragged gasps, my body trembling with exhaustion and fear. I close my eyes, trying to steady myself, trying to believe that I’m going to make it.
My ears strain for the sound of Mathis’s voice, but there’s nothing.
I’ve done it.
I’ve outrun the king’s Captain of the Guard.
I’mfree.
I let relief sink into my body as I steady my breath, ready to emerge from the alley and make one last sprint toward the woods.
Suddenly, a strong hand grabs me and yanks me out of my hiding place.
I gasp, struggling against the iron grip, but it’s no use. A low voice growls in my ear, “Scream, and it will be the last sound you ever make.”
SEVENTEEN
Rylan
“Well,I suggest you figure out how to get word to him…” I don’t finish my sentence. Everyone in the room can hear the threat without it being spoken.
Sweeping my cloak around me, I storm out of the house, slamming the door behind me. The sound echoes around me in the narrow street. Well, that meeting went to hell fast. I can still hear the slippery bastard’s voice in my head, dodging my questions, hinting at backing out of our deal.
Usually, Maren’s reliable, dependable in the way only a man with too much to lose can be. But today, he was different, cagey, like a rat backed into a corner. As I make my way through the darker streets on the outskirts of the city, my hood pulled low over my face, my mind tracks through our conversation, analysing each word for hints of ulterior meaning. The thought of what I’m going to have to do if his loyalties have turned has bitterness coating my tongue.
I’m tired, more tired than I’ve been in a long time. The kind of exhaustion that sinks into your bones, making every step feel like wading through mud. My instincts are dulled, my reactions slower. And I know that’s dangerous. I need to get out of here before someone recognizes me and I put the whole godsdamned kingdom at risk.
I just need to get home. Scrub a week’s worth of filth off me, shave off this damned scruff that’s been itching at my face for days, and go in search of—
I shake my head, stopping that thought in its tracks. A week away from the castle didn’t clear my head the way I had hoped it would. If anything, it’s given credence to the age-old saying, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Or, in my case, lustier. Because that’s surely all it is. A perfectly normal hot-blooded reaction to a woman with almost unearthly beauty and the fiery temper to match. Maybe seeing her and being at the butt end of some of her insults will chase the thoughts that have plagued me over the last week right back to the recesses of my mind where they belong.
I’m a block away from my horse, hidden in a quiet spot blocks from the main square, when I spot movement up ahead. My senses snap to attention, the fatigue momentarily forgotten. Hand on the sword sheathed at my side, I slow my movements, eyes trained dead ahead.
There’s someone in the alley, trying to blend in with the shadows. Instinct kicks in, the part of me that’s always on guard, always prepared for the worst. I don’t think; I just act. Sprinting forward, I reach into the alley, my hand shooting out to grab a handful of fabric and yanking it into the light. I clamp my hand over their mouth, leaning in close, my voice a low growl. “Scream, and it’s the last sound you’ll ever make.”
They start thrashing immediately, kicking and writhing with a desperation that surprises me. I angle my body awaywhile still holding on, dodging kicking legs and scratching hands. The movements are so vicious, so violent it takes me a moment to recognize her—the feel of her, the familiar scent, even the way she fights.
Eirabella.
In my shock, I almost let her go.
“Eirabella! Stop! It’s me!” I hiss, trying to keep my voice low while loud enough to penetrate her fighting haze.
