Hunted(72)

“You don’t owe him anything!” Lena cried. “He’s done nothing but hurt you!”

Yeva shook her head. “He let me go. And if I return to him now, we’ll be on equal terms. I won’t be hunting him, and he won’t be hunting me.”

“Why would you want to go back?”

“I . . . I can’t explain it.” Yeva sighed. “But . . . the Beast is not the monster. The monster is what he’s become. He took me because he thought I could free him, and I mean to find out why.”

“You mustn’t.” Lena, stubborn as always, stalked across the floor and snatched up Yeva’s pack, as if she might prevent her sister from leaving if she could take away her supplies. “This makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does.” Asenka’s voice came quietly from where she’d sunk down to sit on one of the steps leading to the upstairs. Her eyes never left Yeva’s. “She’s going to rescue him.”

Lena stared from Asenka to Yeva, spluttering. “R-rescue? Yeva! You’re no knight from an old story, and he’s certainly no maiden in distress.”

“No,” agreed Yeva, fighting back the irrational urge to smile. “But I mean to try, nevertheless.”

Lena’s expression clouded. “You left us once before,” she said intently, well aware that she was resorting to unfair tactics. “If it weren’t for Radak and Solmir . . .”

Her sister’s words cut. She had abandoned them in pursuit of revenge. But it was different this time. “But you have them now, for always,” Yeva said gently. Her eyes flicked toward Asenka, whose face flushed, guilt and longing mingling in her features. “Solmir was never for me, Lena.”

Lena, too, glanced over her shoulder at Asenka. Yeva knew from the look on Lena’s face that she’d been right to release her fiancé from his promise.

Lena drew a shaky breath. “At least stay one more night,” she begged. “One more dinner, one more evening before the fire. Please?”

Yeva hesitated, but even Asenka’s expression was pleading, and her resolve crumbled. “One more night,” she agreed, then turned for the door.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“I must speak to Solmir.” Yeva didn’t have to look at Asenka to know what she’d find on her sister’s face. “I promise, I’ll come back. Here,” she added, when Lena didn’t look convinced. “Take Father’s bow. I wouldn’t leave it behind.”

Lena took the long, curved staff of the unstrung bow in hands that were unused to holding weapons of any kind, and cast Yeva an uncertain look. “One more night,” she repeated.

“I promise.”

The baron’s manor house stood on a rise on the other end of town, and Yeva took the long path that circumnavigated the busier streets. Though she often preferred to avoid the crowds who still looked at her like she was half spirit, half saint, today she simply wanted the time to gather her thoughts.

The Beast had been waiting hundreds, if not thousands, of years to break his curse. One more day would not be the end of him. And yet Yeva’s heart felt tight and uncomfortable, and her feet itched for the soft give of the forest’s carpet of leaf mold instead of the hard-packed mud of the town streets.

The gates of the baron’s estate stood open, as they almost always did, and Yeva was not stopped until she reached the manor itself. The doorman showed her inside; Solmir must have given the staff instructions in advance. She was brought to a sitting room hung with tapestries—one of the baron’s rooms, and not one she frequented as part of the baronessa’s retinue—and left to wait.

She couldn’t help but compare this room to those of the castle in the valley. Though this room had no hint of mildew or age, nothing worn or cracked or shabby, there was an obvious grandeur that Yeva found off-putting. The pieces in the room had been selected to show off the baron’s wealth, and whoever had done the selecting lacked the taste of the castle’s decorator, whoever he’d been, all those centuries ago.

She was inspecting the books displayed prominently on one of the shelves when Solmir appeared in the doorway. Last year, whenever he arrived to accompany Yeva on her walks through the forest, he’d appear disheveled and out of breath, eagerness flushing his face and quickening his steps. Now, she couldn’t help but notice his face was grave, his steps unhurried.

He inclined his torso a few degrees when Yeva turned. “Good morning,” he greeted her, crossing the room to take her hand and lead her to one of the couches.

She thanked him and sat, then abruptly found that everything she’d planned to say on her walk here had vanished from her memory. She stared at Solmir dumbly.

He stood by the fire, leaning one elbow on the mantel and looking exactly like a painting, a single frame from a story of lost love and tragedy. When Yeva didn’t speak, his brows knit, concern coloring that grave face. “Yeva? Are you all right?” His eyes widened. “Is it your family? Is something wrong?”

“No,” Yeva was quick to reassure him, finding her tongue again. “No, everything’s fine.” She hesitated, then glanced around the expansive room. “I’ve never been in this part of the manor,” she said finally, “only in the baronessa’s wing and the grand hall. It’s . . . big.”

At that, Solmir grinned, some of his stiffness relaxing. “Coming from you, I’m pretty sure that’s not a compliment.”