“The King of Karstos. His name is Sebastian,” Aidan supplied.
Kai blinked. “Not exactly my point, but thanks.”
“Alright. There’s obviously some corruption in Karstos and their king is behaving suspiciously. That doesn’t mean it has anything to do with us,” Jade raised her voice slightly as Kai started to interject, “butI do agree that it’s worth keeping an eye on. Our priority should still be getting to Aataran, though.”
“And finding Rynn,” Kai added.
“Yes, fine,” Jade huffed in response.
Aidan chuckled. “As fun as this has been, we have to be up early tomorrow and I’m ready to sleep. I have two rooms at the inn across the street if you ladies are ready.” He stood and flicked a coin onto the table.
“Why do you have an extra room?” Jade asked.
“I knew it was only a matter of time until you both found me.”
“Then why didn’t you getthreerooms?” Kai said.
He nodded to her suggestively. “I figured you could always join me, if you’d like.”
Kai rolled her eyes but laughed as she grabbed Jade’s arm. “Good try, but I’m staying with Jade.” The two of them walked toward the door.
Aidan called after them. “Just a warning, Jade: she likes to cuddle.”
Chapter Eleven
Isla
Theirsmallgrouprodenorth along easy paths for most of the day. The previous morning, Dorothea—much to Isla’s delight—had given her consent to bring Papa home. Leaving Krill had been bittersweet, for she had formed a bond with their ragtag group of unlikely friends, but they made promises to see each other again.
It was a blessedly uneventful and rather quiet trip, the three of them lost in thought and still weary from everything that had happened. Isla couldn’t get the image of that broken campsite out of her mind—blood all over the ground and trees, the dead bodies, the bags violently ripped. She hadn’t realized how bad things had gotten, how crazed the radicals in Evonlea were. To cause so much chaos, simply because they were angry that people traded with Karstos? Or was there another reason for their actions? Coy, the first injured man Isla had helped, had mentioned the attackers were looking for something. Isla couldn’t imagine any treasure being worth this loss.
And the men she’d killed…she hoped they were the ones who had hurt her father and brother. She wanted nothing more than the satisfaction of knowing she had put them where they belonged. A small, quiet part of her wanted to do it again, to bring justice for the weak and vulnerable, to make the wicked pay for their crimes.
It was funny, she thought, how one could be two sides of the same coin. A hero to some, and a villain to others.
Evening came, and they decided to stop and stay at an inn in Talvoy, a village about twenty miles out from Lockhurt. Isla was desperate for a bath—she hadn’t been properly clean since before they left for Krill, and she winced at the smell of multiple days of travel clinging to her like oil.
Arden and a stablehand carefully unloaded their father from the wagon and carried him to a room, while Isla paid the innkeeper for food to be brought to them. The second she finished eating, she went to her papa and Arden’s room. Arden changed their father’s clothes, and Isla gently cleansed his arms and face. As she wiped his skin, she fought the tide of heavy unease rising within her. Seeing him like this, his body limp and unresponsive, made her want to move the heavens and earth to heal him. She didn’t know what she would do if she lost her only remaining parent.
With a quick kiss goodnight, Isla returned to her room shared with Bri. Her friend was already snoring away on their bed, so she quietly slipped into the bathing room, turned the handle above the claw-footed tub to bring hot water through the pipes, and stripped off her dirty clothes. Once the tub was full, she eased into its warmth with a sigh. It felt as if she were shedding old skin as she ran a bar of hard soap up and down her body. Perhaps the water was trying to wash away the phantom blood that now stained her hands along with the dirt and grime.
Finally refreshed and eager for a good night’s sleep, she sank into the firm mattress beside Bri and blew out the candle on the bedside table.
Peaceful rest eluded her once again. A myriad of gruesome nightmares haunted Isla’s dreams. Visions of blood-stained trees with claws for limbs that reached out to pluck them from their horses, of men with beady eyes strangling victims with their long hair, of Bri and Arden drinking glasses of wine that morphed into blood and ran down their chins.
In one of the dreams, Isla was back at the campsite, facing the attackers with her bow and arrow. Except when the assailant lifted their head, she was staring at herself.
Isla jolted awake, covered in sweat, half of the sheets twisted into a knot around her legs. Untangling herself, she threw her feet over the side of the bed and rested her head in her hands. Those images were seared onto the backs of her eyelids, making her stomach churn. She desperately needed to clear her mind.
Pushing herself off the bed, she slid out of her nightgown and into a pair of leggings, a sweater, and her boots. She grabbed her cloak and tip-toed quietly to the door of their small room. As an afterthought, she took the short blade she had given to Bri and stuck it in her belt, then shoved her own faithful dagger into a pocket she had requested the tailor sew inside her cloak. One could never have too many pockets. Or daggers.
Carefully easing open the door so as not to wake Bri, she slipped into the hallway and walked down the creaking stairs until she made it to the entrance of the inn. She smiled as she stepped out the front door and into the empty street. Ever since she was a little girl, she had loved the night. Her mother would often chide her when, as a teenager, Isla would sneak out after dark and walk to her favorite clearing by the river near their house. She had stumbled upon it as a child and had treasured the spot ever since. She would simply lay in the grass and soak up the moonlight with nothing but the rush of the winding river and owls hooting in the distance as her companions. It recharged her, made her feel alive again.
She had never been afraid of the dark—at least, not the peaceful dark of a night sky with shining stars winking down at her. The idea that the universe was so vast and endless made her worries feel smaller. There was comfort in knowing the world was much bigger than what plagued her life.
Isla closed her eyes and inhaled the smell of oncoming snow and fallen leaves, the trees around the village rustling in the wind. She caught the hint of something sweeter; perhaps the bartender next door had left old barrels of wine out to dispose of.
For several minutes, she leaned against the exterior of the inn before the cold air convinced her to try and get some sleep. As she turned to head inside, a faint noise sounded from the left. Pivoting on her heel, she saw a thick crop of bushes trailing back until they reached a forest. It was too dark for Isla to make out anything within them, but she heard anotherswishand what sounded suspiciously like footsteps.
