Pippa jerked away, and Barrett took Amma roughly by the upper arm again, her hands still bound behind her so the tug threw her off balance. “Don’t even think about it.”
Think about what? she wondered. Running? Fighting? She was struggling to just get her voice back, even the muscles in her throat sluggish from the arcana still sludging through her veins. The keep was getting closer, moonlight illuminating the banners hanging above its entrance emblazoned with the red lion-fish, and her feet stopped, heart following suit. She’d heard them say Brineberth, but seeing it there in front of her was like a cold dagger pressed to the throat. If she went inside, it would be the last thing she ever did.
But Barrett’s patience had run out the moment her teeth had pinched through his glove. He dragged her forward, ignoring how she stumbled and squeezing her arm that much harder so that she cried out.
“Careful, Barrett, she’s not our enemy,” Pippa cautioned, keeping her distance with a wary eye trained on Amma and a hand up defensively.
The one called Kori scoffed. “Yeah, the Marquis isn’t going to want his wife back all bruised up.”
“I’m not his wife,” Amma rasped, eyes locked onto how the banner fluttered in the wind sweeping over the moors. Not yet anyway.
“Betrothed. Whatever.” Kori had Amma’s silver dagger out, flipping it over in her hands and feeling the weight. “Though I guess we can blame it all on Bloodthorne. I’m sure he’s done worse to her.”
The rope around Amma’s wrists was cut, the tension on her back gone, but the knight’s thick hand was still wrapped around her arm, dragging her ever forward at a quickening pace. With Kori behind her, dagger out, Pippa prepared with a spell at her other side, and El leading the way ahead of them, there was nowhere for Amma to go, even if she could run.
“I’m surprised he really wants her back, being used goods and all,” Barrett grumbled. “There must be other baronesses.”
Even without the linen in her mouth, Amma felt a gag at the back of her throat. Cedric was too invested in what Amma represented—a legitimate claim to Faebarrow—to break their engagement no matter what imagined slights he thought she’d done to him while she was gone.
Kori scoffed again. “He better—I want my gold, and this hasn’t been easy.”
“I don’t know,” El said, glancing back at the others over his shoulder and holding up a hand, a ball of red arcana forming there with a jagged line of black running through it, “I think we already made out pretty well.” The magic in his palm sparked then, and he yelped, quickly putting it out and laughing nervously.
Kori rolled her eyes. “I just want paid.”
“Shadow walking not enough for you? Or Is it just Pierce you miss?”
“That’s right!” There was a pointy nudge at Amma’s back. “Where’s my crossbow?”
Amma’s head was tipped up, the banner looming over all of them as they reached the entry to the keep. “The Everdarque,” she said in a whisper, all the breath pulled out of her as the massive, wooden doors swung open.
“The Everdark?” Kori’s voice fell low as they crossed into the keep. “Guess that enthrallment makes everything she says a ridiculous lie.”
The inner courtyard was surrounded by a high, thick wall, the moonlight pouring down into its center, but the darkness of the corners were so black it was like staring into the Abyss. Unlike any other keep Amma had been to, the grounds were covered in many trails made by heavy boots in the muck. There were no well-kept hedges or fanciful fountains, only workstations and efficiency, and it smelled of hot coals and sweat.
A drunken cheer rose up from a group of men, celebrating as one of them fell hard to the ground and another threw up his arms off to the side of the courtyard’s entrance. Amma was glad when the guard El had spoken to guided them away, but then a set of robed figures passed by, priests but especially ominous in the dark, and gave her the chills.
They trampled over wet earth in the courtyard’s center, her stomach sinking right along with her boots, dread crawling up her spine. But there was no sign of Cedric Caldor, and for that alone, Amma was able to stay upright as Barrett drove her toward the building at the keep’s back.
The hall in the largest structure of the simple keep looked to be meant for dining and meetings. Braziers along the walls were lit with unarcane fires, and small, high windows were rare, lending the place to safety but also allowing smells to linger—salt, grease, human—and Amma’s already toppling stomach roiled again. She was compelled between old, scratched tables lined with benches where a few men sat, playing dice and finishing meals. Their conversations stopped as the five entered, and one man, a familiar man, got to his feet.
“Lady Ammalie!” Roman Caldor rushed across the hall, and Barrett’s hand released her arm just as Cedric’s older brother embraced her. “Oh, I prayed to Osurehm for your safe return, and here you are!”
Amma was going to have a number of nasty words for Osurehm when she finally met him.
When Roman pulled back, he took her by the arms, squeezing where Barrett had only just released and making her wince, but he didn’t notice. “You must be so scared and so happy to be home.”
Amma could only blink back at the face that looked so much like Cedric’s but held none of the knowing malice or faux sympathy. She hadn’t seen Roman in moons, but he had been to Faebarrow a few times and was just the same as she remembered: bigger, stronger, and decidedly a whole lot dumber. Because of this, he didn’t really act the way a marquis was meant to, but at least he was nice.
“Actually, there’s a little problem,” said Pippa, and Kori elbowed her.
The elven mage rolled his eyes. “She’s been enthralled, so she thinks she’s not supposed to be here.”
“Enthralled?” His brows pinched and lips twisted up.
The elf nodded. “Yes. Arcanely.”
When no one explained it further, but Roman’s eyes didn’t sparkle with understanding, Amma sighed. “It means I’m supposedly mind controlled by magic.”
