by Shari Cross
“Why are you letting him lead the search for her? He should be rotting in a cell for what he’s done!” I shout, while pushing open the large wooden doors of the Great Hall. King Theoderic is seated on his throne with a cluster of Schilds around him. He looks up at me, offering me a reproachful and tired look. The Schilds, on the other hand, have turned to face me, blocking my path to the King. Right, protect him from me, but send Charles after Addalynne.
“It’s all right, men. You’re dismissed. I would like a private word with Walton.” They bow toward him and quietly retreat. He returns his gaze to me. “I cannot imprison him with no evidence.”
“I have given you plenty of evidence.”
“Drake, your word, as much as I value it, is not evidence. You’re not even a witness. Charles insists that the story about the Hunts being taken by a hellion is true. He claims that he even led the search for them, but found no trace other than some bloody clothes near the river. As far as Addalynne’s injuries are concerned, he claims she fell off her horse. He believes that you have created these allegations, and convinced others of them because you’re jealous that Addalynne chose him. And I must admit, on the surface, you could very well pass as a young man who lost the love of his life to another. Young men will do anything when they’re blinded by their jealousy.”
I stare at him incredulously. “Do you honestly think I’m making all this up because I’m jealous? What about Addalynne’s sister. She told you what Addalynne said to her and she told you about the bruises she saw on Addalynne’s arm. Is she jealous too?”
King Theodoric lets out a breath. “I believe both of you, Drake, and I know you’re not acting out of jealousy. But you have to understand how it looks to those on the outside. I can’t arrest him just because I trust your word more than his. As much as I believe you and Elizabeth, my hands are tied, and without Addalynne here to say otherwise . . .” he shrugs slightly. “I’m sorry.”
His words are sincere, but they do nothing to suppress the rage clawing inside me. “So instead you’ll let him pretend to look for her? He’s lying! He did something to her! I know he did! How can you let him lead the search? He won’t try to find her! He’ll only lead them on a fool’s chase!” I pace frantically, unable to stay in one place.
“I’m not so sure about that, Drake,” he says quietly. I stop moving and set my eyes on him.
“How could you say that? After everything he’s done.”
“Because Charles is a proud man and proud men take honor in their property. Ever since he married Addalynne, she has belonged to him.” I flinch at his words, the truth in them further ripping an already gaping wound. “He wouldn’t let her go so easily. Besides, if you could have seen the look in his eyes when he spoke to me, there was real pain there. In this case, I feel as though he may be telling the truth.”
I shake my head in disbelief.
“You’re welcome to accompany him on the search, Drake. I’m sending several men with him and they’ll ensure that neither of you try to harm each other.”
A humorless laugh escapes me. I close my eyes and drag my fingers across my face. I would love for him to try to harm me. I would give anything for the opportunity to fight him again, because this time, I would kill him. But I refuse to follow him. “No. I won’t go with him. He has no intention of finding her.” I let my eyes open, my empty gaze focusing back on King Theoderic. “I’ll go on my own.” I back away from him and turn toward the exit.
“Do you think that’s wise?” he calls out before I have a chance to leave. I turn around to face him again.
“It’s my only option. I can’t sit around and do nothing, but I refuse to go with him. I have a better chance of finding her on my own.”
“I understand your decision,” he acknowledges. “I am unable to send Schilds with you because the ones I have left are needed here, to protect the city, but I can at least send Walter, if you wish. I know you’re friends.”
“No. Send Walter with the others.”
A look of confusion passes along his face. “Since you don’t believe Charles will actually be looking for Addalynne, why send Walter with him? Wouldn’t it better serve you to have him accompany you on your search?”
“No. I need someone I can trust regarding Charles and his men.”
“You can trust any one of my Schilds.”
“Not as much as I trust Walter. We grew up together, and he cares for Addalynne. In the off chance that I’m wrong and Charles is looking for her, then Walter will be there to help Addalynne if they find her. He won’t let any harm come to her. And, he’ll also be able to tell us what Charles does.”
“You’re certain of your decision?” he asks hesitantly.
“Yes. Gregory will go with me—he’ll be enough.”
King Theodoric nods. “I admire you, Drake, for your fierceness and your loyalty. When you find Addalynne and return her here, I’ll hopefully be able to do more for you, starting with annulling her marriage to Charles.”
I savor his words. Though they sound like a lost dream, I pray with everything in me that one day soon he’ll be able to honor them. After a bow, I make my way out of the Great Hall. As soon as I’m through the doors and in the corridor, I break into a sprint, heading straight for Gregory.
Chapter 36
HIM
I look around me, observing the heavy shadows of the trees. It’s nearing dark. Another day gone. Another day without her.
Three days have passed since we started trailing Charles, Henry, and the King’s Schilds. At first I was completely opposed to this idea. Now, I’m still uncertain of it, but I’m hoping it will end up being worthwhile. Gregory’s the one who insisted on following Charles. He argued that we had no idea which direction to head in. I argued that the opposite direction of Charles would be the best place to start. Next, Gregory pointed out that if we followed Charles, we might overhear him confiding in one of his men about Addalynne’s whereabouts. This point helped me to consider his plan. Then he said that if the opportunity presented itself, he wouldn’t stop me from killing Charles. This made me agree to his plan. But now I’m growing impatient.
Gregory and I have lingered in the woods, skirting around Charles and the other men, trying to watch and listen for any clues to Addalynne’s whereabouts. The fact that we can’t get too close makes this problematic. But we told Walter about our plan before we left, and he has been reporting back to us with information or, more accurately, with a lack of information. Apparently, Charles has done nothing but feign ignorance about where she might be. All along he has stuck to his story about the woodland nomads.
I shift uncomfortably on the branch I’m sitting on. It’s pressing painfully into sensitive areas that should never spend this much time in a tree. I let out an impatient groan and glance at Gregory. He’s sitting in a tree next to mine and looks equally uncomfortable. He must feel my eyes on him, because he turns to look at me as well.
“This is the last night I do this. If we don’t get any new leads by tomorrow afternoon, we’re going on our own,” I whisper.
“Agreed.”
I lean my head back on the trunk and let my eyes close. I think about Addy and all the hundreds of days we spent together sitting on the branches of the Grey Tree. I remember the first time I climbed it with her. Her face was scrunched in determination as she ascended higher and higher. Even then I felt an immense amount of fear at the thought of her falling. I always tried to position myself close enough to catch her if necessary. As the years passed, I realized how good she was at climbing, but the protectiveness never seemed to fade. I was always worried about her getting hurt. Blowing out an aggravated breath, I drag my fingers across the wood. I was there to protect her from the most unlikely dangers, but I failed when it came to the real ones.
A rustling noise underneath me draws my eyes open. I glance to the ground and see two figures walking away from the camp; Charles and Henry. Adrenaline sears through me. Keeping my eyes on them, I tear off a piece
of bark and quietly toss it at Gregory. It bounces off his cheek, and he turns toward me in irritation. I place one finger in front of my lips and point the other one in the direction of Charles and his number one confidant. Gregory’s face purses in thought and then he offers me a conspiratorial grin. We simultaneously climb down our trees and move silently through the woods, trailing our targets.
My fingers twitch toward the sword at my side while we follow them farther into the woods. They come to a stop in a small clearing, about twenty feet away from us. Behind them lies a narrow stream. They’re standing close together, speaking in hushed tones. From this distance, I can’t make out what they’re saying, but I’m sure it’s about her. I take a subtle step in their direction and Gregory’s hand wraps around the sleeve of my black tunic, halting me. I look back at him and he gives me a single shake of his head, no.
“I’m going closer. It’s our only chance to hear what they’re saying. If they see me, then we’ll fight,” I say with a shrug, offering him a sideways smile. A frown of disapproval pulls on his face, but he lets go, and I continue forward, stepping cautiously toward them. Faint whispers drift to my ears, and I take my place behind a bush that’s several feet away from them. Crouching down, I listen carefully to every word they speak.
“. . . another week at most and then they’ll be ready to give up,” Charles says. My heart pounds in anticipation of their next words.
“How can you be so certain? I hardly believe her family will give up their search after a little over a week, or the orphan, for that matter.”
“The orphan will die as soon as we return. King Theoderic can’t protect him much longer. And as far as her family goes, they can continue to search to their hearts content. They’ll never find her. She’s too far away by now.”
Blood rushes to my head, making my ears ring. Every part of me wants to run straight for him and plunge my sword into his chest.
“That she is,” Henry agrees, humor staining his voice. He’ll die too. “Should I go hunt down something for us to eat?” Henry asks. I tense in preparation of Charles’s answer. If Henry goes, I’ll have my chance with Charles—one on one. There will be no one to help him this time.
“I suppose. I’ve grown sick of the dried meat the King’s Schilds have been eating. Bring it back here, though. I don’t want to share with the rest of them.”
“As you wish, my Lord.”
I glance back at Gregory, and he gives me a knowing nod before moving through the trees, trailing after Henry. Rising to my feet, I move around the bush and step into the clearing. Charles is crouched down at the edge of the stream, cupping water in his hands. When he hears me approach he rises abruptly to his feet. His hand wraps around his sword and he draws it out at the same time that he turns to face me. Shock registers on his face, but it’s soon replaced by a slanted sneer. I take several more steps toward him, my hand wrapping tightly around the hilt of my sword.
“Well, well. I should have known you would follow me. Congratulations on surprising me. You should be proud. That never happens.” He takes a step toward me with his sword extended, pointing at my chest. We begin to move sideways, circling each other.
“I have many surprises planned for you,” I say, while I plan my misdirection. My father always taught me that if you can get your opponent to fall for your misdirection, you can gain the upper hand.
“Is that so? As many surprises as I had for Addalynne?”
I halt momentarily, his words rattling me. He uses the moment of hesitation to his advantage and runs forward, slashing diagonally. The tip of his sword barely misses the front of my chest as I leap backwards. His movement sends him slightly off balance and I use the opportunity to bring my sword around in a downward swipe aiming for his arm. He raises his blade up at the last second and the clank of metal vibrates loudly, blocking my sword. I raise my foot and kick him squarely in the chest. A grunt of pain escapes him and he stumbles slightly, but manages to right himself. Our eyes lock and our circular pacing resumes.
“Someone taught you well, Orphan. Was it that pretend father of yours, or the measly time you spent in the Schild?”
“I didn’t realize you knew so much about me. I suppose I should be flattered that you find me so interesting.”
“I make it a point to learn all I can about my opponents. Perhaps you should have done the same, then maybe you could have saved her.”
His words inflict more than I want him to know. Instead of responding, I watch his sword while I think of my next move: one that will silence him permanently.
“Nothing to say now?” he says with mock disappointment. “How unfortunate, but I know how to make you speak. Tell me, orphan, how many times did you lie with Addalynne before we were married?”
My eyes flash to his face. He knows. The thought sickens me, knowing it brought her more pain. At least I also know that, regardless of where she is, he will no longer be able to hurt her. I let this thought mollify me, but I still refuse to speak. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“Still nothing to say? That’s fine. Regardless, I know you were with her. And though I may not know how many times, I can guarantee it’s nowhere near the amount of times I had her.” A feral smile spreads across his face and my stomach twists. He’s lying. He’s trying to get in my head. “My favorite thing about her is how ferociously she always fought back. Oh, and that little beauty mark on her right hip.”
I lunge at him, an animalistic growl escaping from me as I dodge sideways to avoid his sword and slam my body into his, throwing him down to the ground. Both of our swords fly out of our hands from the impact. I straddle his waist and bring my fist down onto his face. The image of Addalynne’s body, bruised and broken, flashes in my mind. I use my other hand to place a second blow, shattering his nose. He cries out in agony, but responds by reaching around to my back and digging his fingers into my scabbed over lashes, re-breaking the skin. I groan as my body stiffens in pain. He uses the distraction to toss me off of him, and my shoulder slams into the ground. He climbs on top of me and lands a punch on my face. I blink against the sting of it and notice that one of his wrists is bandaged. I reach for it, but before I’m able to grab hold, he punches me again. My vision blurs, but I can still make out the smile on his face. I picture Addalynne trying to fight him off and him smiling this same smile, thinking he’s won. The thought gives me the adrenaline I need and I slam my elbow into the center of his chest. He coughs, sinking forward as I roll sideways, tossing him off me.
Rising to my feet, I run for my sword while trying to push the images of him forcing himself on Addalynne out of my mind. My feet slip on the dirt and I drop to the ground, my hand wrapping around the hilt of my sword. I push myself onto my feet and run for him. He’s staggering to his feet, but his sword is back in his uninjured hand. I yell as I slice the sword in an upward motion. He tries to move, but the tip of my blade scratches across his chest, leaving an open gash in his shirt and skin. He stares down at the blood in shock as it trickles out. It’s not a fatal wound, but it will slow him down. I thrust my sword forward, aiming for his heart, but he clanks it away with his own. Raising my arm, I bring the hilt of my sword down across his face. His body spins around and then falls to the ground. He rises onto all fours and spits out a mixture of blood and several teeth. I run toward him and land a kick directly into his ribs, hopefully shattering several, two for every one he broke of hers. He yells out in pain and falls back onto the ground, his fingers loosening their grip on his sword. I kick it out from under him and send it skidding several feet away. Placing my foot on top of his back, I keep him down on the ground. I can feel the rise and fall of his rapid breaths underneath my boot. I toss my own sword to the side and pull the dagger out of my belt. Using my foot, I flip him over onto his back. I lower myself on top of him and stab my dagger into one shoulder and then the next, letting his screams of pain ignite my adrenaline. I raise the dagger up, now saturated with his blood, and place it over his neck. It’s not t
ime for him to die yet.
“Where is she?” I demand. He spits at me, his blood and saliva landing on my cheek.
He laughs an amused and ragged laugh. “As though I would ever tell you,” he replies with a cough. I use my sleeve to wipe his spit off my face and my gaze lands on the stitches on his cheek.
“She gave you that cut,” I say, and I can tell by the contempt in his eyes that I’m right. I feel a swell of pride as I think of her, fighting back and cutting his face open. That’s my Addy. I place the tip of the dagger on his opposite cheek and drag it down, creating a matching line. He growls in pain, his eyes widening with their first traces of fear. “Where . . . is . . . she?” I ask slowly, leaning toward him, my face only inches from his.
“It doesn’t matter where she is. You’ll never find her. They have her now,” he speaks with a slur, the wound on his cheek making it difficult for him to form words.
“Who has her?”
He laughs, a sick, raspy sound. Blood is pooling around his head and matting into his hair, staining it red. “You’re going to kill me no matter what I say. Besides, I would never give you the satisfaction of telling you where she is. You may kill me, but you’re the one who will spend the rest of your life constantly wondering where she is, always asking yourself if you could have done more to save her.” His words strike me more than any physical blow could. Knowing he’s about to die isn’t good enough. He deserves much worse than death.
If only Addalynne could be here now, watching me drain the life from him. I picture her, smiling down at me, and I freeze, the image of her in the woods bringing back flashes of my dream—Addalynne running through the woods, crossing the river, staring back at me from the bank of Incarnadine.