“Do you feel safe here?” He didn’t want to leave her alone if she had any doubts.
“Yes, I do.”
“Good.” For a long moment, he just stared, thinking of how close he’d come to losing her. He didn’t ever want to leave her, but finally he backed away. “I’ll let you rest.”
She smiled softly and then closed the door. Jace stood by it for a moment more before returning to the kitchen, where Saul was waiting for him.
“You should get some rest as well. Come, I’ll show you upstairs to the children’s room. It’s the only other room we have. Later, we’ll figure out better arrangements.”
Jace followed him up the stairs to the room in the peak of the cabin, which was divided in half by a canvas curtain. Saul motioned to the side that obviously belonged to Kal with all his toys and boyish trinkets.
“Kal was eager to offer you his bed,” Saul said.
Jace smiled. “Let him know I appreciate it.”
Once he was alone, Jace pulled off his boots and ducked under the slanted ceiling to lie down in Kal’s bed. Though a bit small for him, he sighed as his whole body relaxed into the mattress. His arms and back were sore, and the wound to his shoulder throbbed dully, but none of it mattered. He closed his tired eyes. At first, sleep wouldn’t come as he kept thinking about Kyrin. He couldn’t help feeling that he wanted to keep a watchful eye on her at all times, but after a time of prayer, he succumbed to his weariness.
“Over here!”
Kaden spun around to the sound of Halvar’s voice. Scanning the thick forest, he could just make out the giant’s head above a wall of ferns. He sprinted forward and joined up with the others as they all pushed through the ferns and found a large hollow where Halvar stood.
“Looks like this is where they stopped the first night,” he told them.
Kaden looked around. They had spent the entire day yesterday from sunup searching for the ryriks’ trail. And now what signs Halvar had managed to find had only led them as far as the ryriks’ first camp? He shoved his hand through his hair. It meant the monsters who had Kyrin and Jace were still more than a full day ahead of them.
“There’s a lot of blood here,” Rayad said from near a tree at the other side of the hollow.
Kaden walked over to him with Marcus, and his stomach twisted. Dried blood spattered the ground at the base of the tree as well as the ropes lying there.
“Whose blood do you think it is?” Kaden asked.
Before anyone could form an answer, Halvar reached up and pulled a bloodstained piece of cloth from the branches above their heads—a shirtsleeve. “Recognize this?”
Rayad took it, his expression grim. “It’s Jace’s.”
And no doubt Jace’s blood.
Kaden scanned the clearing again. “Is there any sign of Kyrin?”
Halvar studied the ground. “A couple faint footprints. There are wolf tracks too.”
The knot in Kaden’s stomach yanked tighter. Blood, ropes, and wolf tracks? What had happened here?
Halvar crossed the clearing again and pointed. “Looks like they continued on in this direction and didn’t take as much time to cover their tracks.”
Finally, some good news. Maybe now they could gain ground . . . before it was too late, though judging by the blood, it could be already. Kaden shook these thoughts off and hurried after Halvar with the others.
With a clear trail to follow, they moved more quickly than they had since the beginning of this search. Halvar pointed out the obvious tracks to them, including those left behind by wolves. The prints were three times the size of Tyra tracks—as wide as Kaden’s hand with his fingers spread apart. He cast wary glances into the forest for the beast that made them. The others seemed on edge as well, and Kaden kept thinking back to the blood and ropes. Surely there would have been more blood and evidence if the wolves had been the cause . . .
A couple of hours later, the entire group halted when a man stepped out of the trees just ahead of them. At the sight of his black hair and blue eyes, Kaden yanked out his sword, as did everyone else except for Halvar.
The ryrik lifted his hands. “I’m a friend.”
Halvar stepped forward. “Ross.”
Kaden frowned at his friendly tone. His confusion deepened when the giant reached out to shake the ryrik’s hand. Kaden exchanged a glance with Marcus, who looked just as bewildered.
Halvar turned to them. “You can put your weapons away. Ross is a longtime friend.”
No one moved. Kaden just stared at them, the words ryrik and friend not registering together in his mind. How was that even possible?
“I know you are suspicious,” Ross said. For a ryrik, he managed to appear remarkably unthreatening. “I was told to tell you that Jace Ilvaran sent me.”
“Jace,” Rayad’s voice echoed Kaden’s own surprise.
They all looked at each other. Hardly anyone knew Jace’s family name.
Rayad slid his sword back into its scabbard first and stepped forward. “He’s alive.”
Ross nodded.
Kaden sheathed his weapon next. “What about Kyrin?”
He held his breath, his gut clenching before Ross nodded.
“Yes.”
Kaden blew out his breath. “Are they injured?”
“Only minor injuries that I’m aware of.”
Kaden hung his head, breathing out heavily again. Next to him, Marcus did the same. In that moment, Kaden felt like he could sink straight to the ground as the desperation that had kept him going all morning dissolved. He hadn’t slept in two nights, terrified for Kyrin’s life.
“Saul took them to the village,” Ross told Halvar, and Kaden raised his head again. “He thought they would be safest there.”
Halvar turned to the group and motioned to them. “The village is not far. We’ll take you there.”
He and Ross took the lead, turning east. Kaden and the others followed. How it had come to be that a ryrik was now leading them to Kyrin and Jace he couldn’t even begin to process, but right now his only concern was getting to his sister.
Jace came to slowly at first but then jerked to full awareness when he heard his name. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he looked up. Saul stood near the bed.
“Your friends have arrived.”
The last remnants of sleep left Jace as he got up. He pulled on his boots and followed Saul downstairs.
“They’re at the gate. Halvar is with them,” Saul said as they walked outside.
Jace followed Saul through the village with growing anticipation. The danger of the last couple of days had a way of making it feel as though he and Kyrin had been separated from their friends for even longer. When they neared the gate, Jace spotted the group and smiled. He hurried the last few yards. Kaden caught sight of him first and called his name. He and Marcus stood at the head of the group, their expressions anxious yet marked with weariness.
“Where’s Kyrin?” Kaden asked the moment Jace reached them.
“She’s all right. She’s asleep.”
Kaden blew out a long breath, and Marcus’s shoulders sagged noticeably, as if releasing a great weight.
“She’s not hurt?” Marcus winced. “The ryriks didn’t . . .”
“No.” Jace shook his head firmly to assure them. “She has a sprained ankle and a small cut, but she’s fine.”
All the tension of the last two days slowly drained from her brothers’ faces.
Now Rayad stepped forward, his eyes reflecting his own deep relief. “What about you? Are you all right?” He nodded to the bandage visible beneath the collar of Jace’s shirt before his gaze dropped to Jace’s bandaged wrists and raw hands.
“Nothing that won’t heal,” Jace said.
Rayad gripped his shoulder gently. His voice came out a little hoarse. “You and Kyrin had us real worried.”
“Thanks to Elôm, we both made it out alive and relatively unharmed.” Jace turned then to Saul, who waited behind him, and motioned him forward. “This i
s Saul. If not for him and his friends, I would be dead and Kyrin would still be a captive.”
Rayad greeted him first, and then Kaden and Marcus before the others stepped up. Though Jace caught some looks of confusion and curiosity over the fact that Saul and the other men at the gate were ryriks, they seemed too thankful to let any suspicions show through. Holden was the most uneasy. He greeted Saul respectfully, but Jace sensed his hesitation. His eyes held an underlying discomfort in sharp contrast to his calm actions. Jace couldn’t blame him after what had happened to his parents.
“Welcome to our village,” Saul told the group. “You can bring your dragons inside, if you wish.”
Jace now noticed the creatures waiting just outside the gate. Once they were given the command to enter, Gem nearly bumped Kaden out of the way to reach Jace. With an exuberant chirp, she eyed him as if checking him over and then nuzzled his chest. He patted her neck and glanced at Saul.
“That’s quite an animal you’ve got.”
Jace smiled. “She is indeed.”
As they followed Saul back toward his cabin, Jace fell into step beside Holden. His friend’s gaze darted around the village to all the people watching them. He finally looked at Jace and whispered, “Are they all ryriks?”
“Yes. And I know this can’t be easy, but they are good people. Most, if not all, are believers. They’ve done nothing but help me and Kyrin.”
Holden drew a deep breath and nodded. “If you trust them, I’ll trust them.”
“I do.”
By now, they neared Saul’s cabin. When it came within sight, Jace spotted Kyrin standing on the porch, waiting. A grin lit up her face. Kaden rushed ahead with Marcus right behind him, and Kyrin hobbled down the steps to meet them. Kaden reached her first, and they hugged tightly.
“You had us worried sick,” he said.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Kyrin replied, her voice wobbling a bit.
They pulled apart, and Kaden gave her a look-over before letting Marcus in to embrace their sister. Kyrin then greeted the others before Saul ushered everyone inside, where they had a lot of catching up to do.
The constant up and down emotions left Anne in a continuous state of exhaustion. Sometimes her grief led to cold, hard resolve that strengthened her against it. However, most of the time, it left her so fragile she felt sure she would crumble. It was hard to find an in-between. Especially tonight. An invitation had arrived the day before to a gathering in Landale to celebrate Goler’s rise to baron. When her father first received it, Anne immediately refused to attend, but with Baron Grey gone and Goler in such a powerful position, it left them no choice.
So, she prepared for the celebration and fought to shore up her waning resolve as Sara helped her slip into a dark blue gown. Anne initially wanted to wear black, but such an open display of mourning might not be the wisest course. The darkest blue she had would have to suffice.
Once she was dressed, Sara styled her hair before Anne dismissed her. After that, she sat for a while at her dressing table and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale and a bit gaunt looking. She hadn’t slept well in days. Her heart ached too much, and more than ever, she wanted to be with Trask. So many times she’d had to fight off the urge to give up and go out to the forest, never to return to this life again. She didn’t want to be part of this act anymore. But she couldn’t escape it; at least, not this very night. There were too many other lives to consider between her parents, Elanor, and the servants.
With a deep sigh, she pushed up from her chair and crossed the room. At the door, she paused and closed her eyes.
“I don’t know how to face this, Elôm. How do I face Goler after what he did and not let my true feelings show? Please give me strength.”
She pressed her hand to the nauseous ache in the pit of her stomach and walked out into the hall. Downstairs, her parents and Elanor waited. She shared a beleaguered look with Elanor. Anne hadn’t seen a hint of her sunny disposition in days. She then locked eyes with her father, and sorrow passed between them. Tonight would be just as difficult for him. He’d lost one of his closest friends. Tears bit Anne’s eyes, but she blinked them back, determination hardening inside her. Her father seemed to gather his resolve as well.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said, his voice husky.
He opened the door and ushered the women out into the soggy twilight, where Elian and their carriage waited.
The ride to Landale passed in silence, but Anne’s dread mounted with each mile. She hadn’t visited the village since that fateful day last week. Her stomach threatened to heave, and she didn’t think she could eat anything without becoming violently ill. When they rolled into the courtyard of Landale Castle, her heart beat erratically. Her father exited the carriage first and helped her mother and then Elanor out. He turned back for Anne last, but she couldn’t move. How could she go inside where so many memories resided without Baron Grey there? The pain of it choked her.
“I can’t do it.” She shook her head, her eyes burning mercilessly. “I can’t go in.”
Her father reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Annie, we must be strong tonight.”
Anne drew in a tremulous breath, battling the emotions that had such a tight grip on her. Finally, she nodded and let her father lead her out. Before he released her, he said, “Let’s just get through tonight.”
Reaching out to Elôm again for strength, Anne remained close to Elanor and followed her parents inside. It was every bit as hard to enter the castle as she’d anticipated. Everything looked familiar—Goler hadn’t had time to change much—but without Baron Grey, the castle felt cold and empty despite the gathering guests. The butler greeted them, and Anne’s heart squeezed. Though maintaining a proper manner, the older gentleman’s eyes revealed his true sorrow. Everyone on staff here had served Baron Grey for many years. How awful to have to serve the man partially responsible for his execution.
The butler admitted them into the sitting room with the rest of the guests. Just as Anne expected, Goler was watching the door, and his gaze latched onto her the moment they entered. Her stomach recoiled. Would becoming sick be a good enough excuse to escape his presence tonight? She pushed the thought aside for now but didn’t discard it as a last resort.
Goler made a beeline for them—for her. He carried himself proudly, yet his pride faded a little when he locked eyes with her. She couldn’t call it concern or contrition in his expression—she wouldn’t allow him any such redeeming qualities—but he wasn’t entirely comfortable. He greeted each of them with a surprising amount of politeness.
“My lord.” Anne’s father inclined his head respectfully. “Sorry we are a bit late.”
Anne dropped her gaze and tipped her chin down in what would look like a respectful gesture, but it was only to gain a moment to collect herself. She’d forgotten Goler was now their superior and had to be addressed and treated as such. It was almost too much to bear. Trask should be baron right now.
“Not at all,” Goler replied, trying his best to sound refined. “Supper is just about to be served.”
She lifted her eyes again, taking in Goler’s tailored jerkin and deep red shirt. She’d never seen him clothed in such finery. He’d probably taken the outfit from Baron Grey’s wardrobe. She had to fight the urge to glare at him.
A moment later, he offered her his arm. “Let me escort you to the dining room.”
Anne stared at his arm for a moment, working herself up to taking it. Then, reluctantly, she wrapped her hand around it, swallowing down her distaste. With a smile, he led her toward the dining room. When they entered, he guided her down the length of the table. Anne’s feet dragged the entire time. He only stopped when they reached the chair just to the right of what was now his place at the head of the table.
“Sit here, next to me,” he invited, his voice too low and silky.
Anne glanced at her father, but it hit her right then that he could do nothing. Goler now outranked him. Even
if he did try to intervene, it would only lead to trouble. A shudder ran through Anne, but she slid into the seat. It rattled her even further when Dagren took the chair directly across from her. The glance he sent was probing, as if he would be measuring every move she made tonight.
The rest of the guests sat down along both sides of the table with quiet murmurings. Aside from a few who didn’t seem affected, an air of unrest hung over everyone. They seemed to know, as Anne did, that death was only one small mistake away. The servants silently served their meal, and the conversation livened up, but it all became a blur to Anne as she picked at her food. She considered taking a bite here and there for appearances, but even the smell made her ill.
After a while, Goler leaned toward her. “Are you unwell?”
Anne clenched her jaw and couldn’t meet his eyes. “Yes, I am.”
A moment of silence followed before he responded. “You’re still upset about the execution.”
She glanced across the table at Dagren, but he was too intent on a conversation with the baron seated next to him to pay this exchange any attention. “Of course, I’m still upset.”
Goler’s eyes narrowed. “He was guilty of treason.”
“So you keep saying,” Anne ground through her teeth, “but he was also a friend. Just give me time to mourn and stop gloating. A man died. It’s barbaric to be so pleased about it no matter why it happened.”
Goler sat back in his chair, brooding.
Eventually, Anne gave up on her pretense of interest in her food and fiddled with the necklace Trask had given her. She’d debated over wearing it, but felt the need to have a piece of him with her. Goler must have noticed. Once again, he leaned toward her.
“I’ve never seen you wear that piece before.”
“It was a gift,” she said in a short tone that discouraged further questions. She reached for her goblet and took a small sip of wine. She would do what she must to appease him, but she didn’t have to fawn over him or cater to his every wish.
He didn’t speak to her again for the rest of the meal.
Exiles (Ilyon Chronicles Book 4) Page 27