The Queen's Rising (Untitled Trilogy #1)(86)

“You look ill,” he stated, his eyes sweeping me.

“Tell me.” I didn’t even try to sound polite or poised.

“Sit down, Amadine.”

No, no, no. My heart was screaming, but I sat, preparing for the worst.

“I won’t lie to you,” he began, gazing down at me. “Your father nearly lost his head.”

My hands were gripping the armrests of the chair, white-knuckled. “He is alive, then?”

Allenach nodded. “The king wanted to behead him. Took the axe up to do it himself. In the throne room.”

“And why didn’t he?”

“Because I stopped him,” the lord replied. “Yes, MacQuinn deserves death for what he did. But I was able to grant him a little more time, to convince the king to give him a proper trial. The lords of Maevana will judge him in two weeks’ time.”

I covered my mouth, but tears began to spill from my eyes. The last thing I desired was to cry, to look weak, but it only brought Allenach to his knees before me, a sight that made the shadows and the light gather close around us.

“Your father and your brother have been taken to a house ten miles from here,” he murmured. “They are on my land, in one of my tenants’ houses. They are guarded and under orders not to leave, but they should rest in safety every night until the trial.”

A sound of relief broke from me and I wiped my cheeks, the tears on my lashes casting prisms about Allenach’s face when I looked at him.

“Would you like to remain here, or would you like to go to them?” he asked.

I could hardly believe he was being so kind, that he was giving me a choice. A warning bell rang at the back of my mind, but my relief was so strong it drowned out my suspicions. Everything I had planned had come to pass. Everything was moving forward as we wanted.

“Take me to them, my lord,” I whispered.

Allenach stared at me, and then he rose and said, “We’ll leave as soon as you pack your things.”

He departed and I rushed to shove all my belongings into my trunk. But before I left the room, before I departed the blessing of the unicorn, I laid my hand over my corset, over the stitches that itched at my side, over the stone that had become my closest companion.

This was truly happening. We were all here. I had recovered the stone. And we were ready.

Allenach had a coach drawn for me in the courtyard. I walked through the blue shadows of evening at his side as he escorted me out. I thought he would grant his good-byes there, on the cobblestones of Damhan. But he surprised me when a groom brought his horse, tacked and ready.

“I will ride behind you,” the lord said.

I nodded, concealing my shock as he shut the coach door. When Cartier realized I was gone during dinner in the hall that night, he would know that I had been taken to Jourdain. I wouldn’t see him again until we converged in Mistwood, and I prayed that he would remain safe.

Those ten miles seemed to stretch into a hundred. The moon had risen over the tree line by the time the coach came to a halt. I broke my manners and let myself out, stumbling over a thick tussock of grass as I soaked in my surroundings by moonlight.

It was a yeoman’s house, a long stretch of building that resembled a loaf of bread—white cob walls, a thatched roof like scorched crust. Smoke dribbled out from two chimneys, tickling the stars, and candlelight breathed on the windows from within. There was nothing else around save for the valley, a gloomy barn in the distance, the white speckles of sheep as they grazed. And a dozen of Allenach’s men, guarding the house, stationed by every window and door.

Allenach’s horse came to a stop behind me just as the front door of the house swung open. I saw Jourdain, etched in the light as he stood on the threshold. I wanted to call out to him, but it hung in my throat as I began to walk, began to run to him, my ankles sore as my feet crushed the grass.

“Amadine!” He recognized me, shoved past the guards to reach me, and I fell into his arms with a sob, despite my promise not to cry again. “Shh, it’s all right now,” he whispered, the brogue rising in his voice again now that he was home. “I’m safe and well. Luc is too.”

I pressed my face to his shirt, as if I were five years old, and breathed in the salt from the ocean, the starch in the linen, as his hand gently touched my hair. Despite the fact that we were under house arrest, that he had almost lost his head that morning and I had been stabbed the night before, I had never felt safer.

“Come, let’s get you inside,” Jourdain said, ushering me to the house.

It was only then that I remembered Lord Allenach, who I had never thanked for saving my patron father’s life.

I turned out of Jourdain’s arms, my eyes seeking the man on horseback. But there was nothing but the moonlight and the wind dancing over the grass, the imprints of hooves from where he had once been.

I cried again when I saw Luc waiting for me in the hall. He crushed me to his chest and rocked me back and forth, as if we were dancing, until I laughed and finally cried the last of my tears.

Jourdain shut and bolted the front door and the three of us stood in a circle, our arms wound about one another, our foreheads pressed together as we smiled, as we silently claimed this victory.

“I have something to tell you both,” I said, at which Luc quickly covered his mouth with a finger, indicating I should be quiet.

“I bet you enjoyed Damhan,” my brother said loudly, walking to a table that was tucked out of sight from the windows. There was a sheet of paper on it, a quill and ink. He made the motion for me to write, and then pointed to his ear and then the walls.