As we set out on horseback, Wrenley’s brothers lead the way, their stoic expressions giving nothing away. I try to not think about them being Hematite, but it’s impossible. They are from the same Tarrobane tribe that imprisoned me and held me for ransom.
The entire time we ride through the city, her brothers remain silent, their eyes scanning our surroundings with hawk-like intensity.
After we ride for a while, one of the brothers raises his hand, signaling us to stop. I pull my mare to a halt in front of a cottage in the distance, nestled between two larger buildings.
“That’s Solomon’s cottage,” Wrenley’s brother says, his voice gruff.
We dismount from our horses and approach the cottage. It’s small and modest, with a thatched roof and a weathered door.
Wrenley’s brother knocks on the door, but nobody answers. Worry drums inside me as he tries again, pounding his fist against the door.
Nothing happens. Nobody answers.
I exhale as I think of Lila’s face when I first met her. She had been so battered, so broken. Surely, she didn’t go back to her husband.
Wrenley’s brother lifts his booted foot and slams it into the door. It groans and splinters, giving way to the force of his kick. A musty smell drifts out of the cottage, tickling my nose. The brothers exchange a quick look before stepping inside. They shout for Wrenley, and she scrambles into the cottage.
Panic seizes me as I trail her inside. I take two steps into the room before I see what caused their shouts. Lila on the floor. Her skin ashen. Her eyes vacant. The dress that Everly had sewn for her lies in tatters, clinging to Lila’s blood-streaked body.
Dried red poppies lie scattered around Lila. I cannot look away, unsee those poppies—the terrible reminder of Astarobane and what red poppies mean to the Bloodstone people.
Death. Always death.
I gasp and shove my hand to my mouth. Lila suffered a violent beating before succumbing to her injuries.
Tremors overtake Wrenley as she kneels next to Lila and runs her fingers against the maid’s eyelids, closing them.
“I’m so sorry,” she chokes out.
I turn away in horror, unable to look, unable to stop thinking about Lila’s final moments. How scared she must have been. How alone.
There’s nothing humane about her husband. He’s a monster!
Bile rises in my throat as I stumble out of the cottage and stare up at the darkening sky. This isn’t right. None of this is right. The world shouldn’t be so cruel.
Wrenley joins me, her face pale, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, as if she stops herself from sobbing.
“I failed her!” She cries out, her voice full of anguish.
Without thinking, I move closer and pull Wrenley into my embrace. She shakes against me, but she doesn’t cry. Maybe something broke in both of us a long time ago. Something incapable of just crying. Just venting. Just allowing the anguish to flow.
When Wrenley pulls away, I step back and exhale.
“How could he have gotten to her?” I ask, my tone strained. “The palace is well fortified with guards everywhere.”
Wrenley swallows. “She must have returned to him. It’s the only way.”
The truth strikes me in the chest like a spear. She went back to her abuser.
Wrenley’s brothers join us outside, their faces betraying their rage. It seethes behind their eyes like a fire.
The one who looks to be the oldest speaks. “Reeve will take care of Lila’s body.” He nods at the other two brothers. “Jude and Aleksander will escort Wrenley and Sol back to the palace.”
“What will you do, Jasce?” Wrenley asks.
“I will find Solomon.” Determination smolders in those words. Determination to make Lila’s husband pay for what he did. “Then, I will kill him.”
I lift my chin. “I will go with you.”
