“He? Who is he?” Who knew she was the Beast and was telling tall tales of fantasy? Without Alia there would always be another Beast. Even now her cousin, Poulth, had taken up the mantle in her absence. “Who-” Alia stumbled as Talac yanked her abruptly sideways. The twang of the crossbolt being shot travelling to her ears a split second after the bolt came to rest in the throat of their chatty friend. Who released a gurgle and was dead two seconds thereafter.
Alia grabbed hold of Talac’s arm, pulling him down so they both crouched low, hidden in the shadows of the nearest palm fern. “Wait.” She breathed the word in his ear, sensing all his muscles bunched, Talac was raring to go off in pursuit of their unknown archer. “Listen.” She instructed.
Nothing. There was nothing to be heard. The archer was no doubt on the move, having accomplished his most important goal, killing the man who might reveal his identity. Yet no birds were awakened as the archer retreated away through the woods, no footsteps sounded, or twigs broke.
“You would only make yourself a target chasing after them.” Alia rose, her words at a normal volume. The killer, with excellent woodland skills, was long gone, and Talac was too sensible to give chase at night in unfamiliar terrain in the dead of night.
“Cruddy hell.” Talac glanced down at the two corpses. “Suitors you say?”
“Yes. Grab that’s one foot, will you? I’ll take this one.”
“Where are we taking them?”
“Away from the camp a bit. Let the predators deal with the disposal.” Finally, Alia deemed they’d travelled far enough. “Here is good.”
“Hah.”
“What, you find this amusing?”
“Just thinking how much your adoring small followers would approve. Disposing of suitors in the woods. Guess the rumours concerning you are not so false after all.”
Alia glanced down at the two bodies, holding back an exasperated sigh. Talac had no idea had weary she was of re-enacting this exact scene. “I never said the rumours were false… only the exact numbers exaggerated. Though perhaps not so much anymore. Come on, let’s head back, clean up, and get some rest.”
“You’re not worried whoever is out there might come back and strike at you again? You were their target.”
“He strikes from a distance or uses others to do his dirty work. The timing and convenience of the location worked in his favour, almost. But I’m on my guard now. And we’re travelling hard, with greater numbers. Let’s see if whoever they are can keep up, or cares enough to go to the effort to try again.”
“Just know, I’ll be warning my men of the threat. And, I have your back.”
I have your back. Alia’s gut heated with delicious warmth. They weren’t words of passion or devotion, but for some reason Talac’s vow, it both steadied and comforted her. She wasn’t alone in this. Talac was skilled and very capable. This man who clung to the shadows was a conundrum. She’d seen glimpses of him through the shadows, but knew there were many layers she had yet to uncover. Even so, Talac was not a man who said anything thoughtlessly, he had her back.
For the first time, in a very long time, Alia didn’t feel so cut off from others, so isolated. She… liked Talac… perhaps more than was good for her. Because to feel anything for this man, dedicated to King and the Realm, when she likewise was dedicated to Gloomenthrall and her relatives – no future could come of it.
And just like that, as the weight of her responsibilities settled once more heavily upon her shoulders, and she was reminded just why she was out here to begin with, that warmth in Alia’s gut winked out in an instant. Leaving behind a cold, hollow feeling, that was all too familiar.
She sank into the icy cold embrace. She’d always used it in the past to fuel her, to freeze and fuse the Beast mantle to her very bones. The Beast, who she was, who she would always be. Forever on the hunt… forever alone.
Chapter Eighteen
Two weeks later…
Historically, Perri had never considered herself a fragile female. Fainting at the drop of a hat. But she was seriously considering the benefits of joining their ranks. This must be what the inner circle of hell would be like, she could barely breathe. It was just so very hot, and so very stuffy. The clash of smothering perfumes so bad it was impossible to pick out individual notes any longer. Nothing but a stomach churning cloud of noxious awfulness.
You would think Perri would be grateful to be out of that hellish carriage. After twelve days her body had caught the swaying rhythm and it was continuing to haunt her. Between that and the swirling maelstrom of questions and what ifs that plague her overtired brain, she had barely slept. Constantly sitting on a knife’s edge of hope versus dread.
Would they be too late? Would Regal and Levi still be at the Palace? If so, where? When would she see her son? Would he sense her presence? Would he somehow recognise Perri?
Even though the mattress was well cushioned in the small room she’d been allocated, connected to Alia’s, if a tad overcrowded with ostentatious antiques, Perri had spent her first night at the Golden Palace staring at the ceiling, her stomach tied up in knots.
After twelve days on the road, they had arrived, perhaps by design, Brandth’s maybe, at the Palace just prior to midnight, the night before the first party was scheduled to celebrate the end of summer.
Perri had no doubt as first impressions went that she and Alia had caused quite a stir. Perri, in her pale grey dress and veil covering her features. And Alia, a scarf wrapped around her nose and mouth, a lightweight summer cloak covering her frame, the hood pulled up, obscuring her hair and features further. Dismounting from a huge pitch black horse that snapped at anyone that tried to get near it.
The news of their last minute arrival and strange appearance would be the talk of the servants. The details no doubt drifting to the ears of the aristos by breakfast time. But Perri hadn’t been worried. What was there to say? A bridal candidate had arrived late at night. Riding a massive black horse. But cloaked. She was tall, yes, the servants could confirm that much. And she was accompanied by a faceless companion dressed eerily like a ghost or wraith. But other than that, the gossip mongers would have very few actual details to impart.
Perri, with scarf in place, had been the one to answer the knock on Alia’s door that morning and accept the breakfast tray. Taking the lead in directing the servants to fill the small brass bathing tub in the alcove just off the main chamber, whilst Alia remained sleeping soundly, covered by a sheet Perri had thrown over her sister’s head.
Once all the servants had gone, she’d taken the tray to the bed, giving her sister a not so gentle shove before unpinning her scarf so they could partake of breakfast together.
