“The Burrow?”
“It’s what we call our headquarters. Or hideout, as the prince insists on calling it.” She frowned. “But we’re not hiding, we just need somewhere safe where his men won’t arrest us every other day.”
I realised then that I’d been picked up by the rebels and brought back to their secret hiding place. The prince’s men had never managed to flush out the rebels or discover their location, despite all their efforts. And now, it seemed, I had joined the rebellion.
With Rose dead, and Lavender and Sal likely days away from execution, I couldn’t think of any reason not to join the rebels. At least until I could figure out a way to reach another coven, far away from the new sheriff.
“I’m Millie, by the way.” The petite brunette smiled, eyes sparkling with genuine warmth. “Now, let’s get you some supper before you waste away. You’ve been unconscious for two whole days since they found you, you must be starved!”
I followed her through a rabbit warren of tunnels with packed dirt and stone walls, the only light coming from the candle she carried and occasional vents in the roof that let in weak sunlight, a fresh, earth-scented breeze, and a drizzleof rainwater. I gathered we were underground; no wonder the sheriff and his men had never managed to find this place.
Voices came from an open doorway up ahead, and as we passed I caught a snippet of the conversation going on inside. “…storm the castle with so few men and flimsy, handmade weapons? See sense, John. We’ll be killed or thrown in the dungeons before we even set foot inside.”
“It’s the only way, Will. People are dying, starving. If we can end this?—”
“Come on,” Millie said, putting a hand on my arm and leading me away from the meeting room. “The stew will go cold if we don’t hurry.” I hadn’t even noticed she’d turned and come back for me, too engrossed by the argument going on inside the room. They were planning to attack the castle? To what end? I couldn’t imagine such a plan going well at all. And apparently neither could the man I’d overheard.
The tunnel opened into a cavernous room laid out with long tables and benches; a kind of subterranean great hall. It was deserted, apart from a man sitting at the far end of one of the tables, his head bowed over a steaming bowl. My gaze lingered on him as we moved down the centre aisle towards a woman stood stirring an enormous vat with a ladle.
“Evening, Agatha. One bowl of stew please.”
The woman manning the ladle picked up a bowl from the stack beside her and scooped some of the watery broth into it, a few pieces of potato, leek and carrot floated on the surface. My stomach growled at the sight, despite the lack of meat or beans. I missed Lavender’s comforting, filling rabbit stew, and I supposed there was little to no chance of a fruit crumble for pudding. I would have to get used to this new way of living, especially if I chose to stay with the rebels, and at that moment I couldn’t see another option, at least for the time being.
I picked up the bowl of stew and small bread roll Agatha gave me, and Millie led me over to the table where the lone man was seated. As we approached, he looked up, and I froze. My bowl of stew clattered to the floor, hot liquid splashing my skirt and boots.
“Oh, goodness!” Millie cried. “Let me fetch you another and clean up this mess. You take a seat, Dante will keep you company.”
Dante?I must have hit my head when I passed out from running. I couldn’t be seeing what I thought I was. The dark-haired man sitting at the table in the heart of the rebel stronghold was none other than the new High Sheriff.
He smirked at me, and a violent jolt of anger shot through me. How was he here?Whywas he here? Had he come looking for me and stumbled upon the Burrow? Maybe even watched the rebels recovering my unconscious body from a distance and followed them to the hideout?
“Aren’t you going to sit down, Helen?” His lips curved into a smirk I wanted to slap off his face.
“Helen?” Millie asked, now crouched at my feet, wiping up the spilled broth. “Is that your name? Do you two know each other?”
I cleared my throat. I wasn’t sure what game he was playing, but I didn’t want any part of it. As soon as I got the opportunity, I would have to flee and find my way to the nearest coven. I couldn’t stay here now.
“Eleanor,” I murmured, reluctant to accept the name the witch killer had bestowed upon me. I could only imagine the meaning behind it, surely some hidden joke or insult.
“Ah, that was it.” His smirk only intensified now that he’d gotten what he wanted; confirmation that I didn’t want my true identity known here.
Well, it worked both ways. He might know my secret, but I knew his. Dante, indeed.
“Sit, Eleanor,” he said, gesturing to the bench across from him. “Eat your stew and rebuild your strength. I hear you have had a difficult few days.” The smugness in his tone set my teeth on edge, but Millie didn’t appear to notice anything. She’d finished cleaning up my spillage and stood beside the table smiling between me and the sheriff.
“I’ll leave you two to catch up. After a good meal, Eleanor, we’ll get you started on chores. Everyone has to earn their keep here.” She left then, pausing to pass a few words with Agatha, who I saw glancing my way more than once.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed at him once I was sure no one would hear us.
“I could ask you the same question. Hiding from the consequences of your actions?”
I thought my eyes would bulge out of my head with rage. “The consequences ofmyactions? Your men killed a young girl who was no threat to you.” I jabbed a finger at him, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat. “You are responsible for that, it is on your conscience. Not mine.”
I felt a tiny spark of surprise as the expression on his chiselled features turned regretful. “I had no intention of harming any of you, least of all a young child I had no idea existed.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “My guard made a mistake. It is no excuse, I know, but I would never have given the order to harm the girl. It was clear to me she was no threat, and my man will be punished for his actions. You have my word.”
I scoffed. “Your word means less than nothing to me.” My stomach growled loudly, and despite the remaining tension between us, I couldn’t go without food any longer. I spooned some of the broth into my mouth; it was too salty and hadtoo little flavour, but I was starving. I shovelled a few more mouthfuls in while ‘Dante’ watched.
Eventually, he picked up his own spoon and continued eating his stew. I couldn’t figure out why he was here. For me? For the rebels? Then why hadn’t he brought an entire army and stormed the place, arresting as many as he could? Why hadn’t he simply smoked the rebels out?
