Home. Her home, where Tybost and Lilla had carved a place in their hearts for a broken three-year-old with a Veil shard embedded in her collarbone. Where they had cared for and protected her life, her secrets, as if she were their own child. Where she had grown up and laughed and played and cried and hurt.
Her first home. Her first family.
It was because her heart had so fully cracked open, shadows pouring their whispers into every fissure in her soul, that she felt the small band of looters on the far side of the stone barrier.
Brela blinked once… and snapped.
38
Under Control
It was utterly brilliant, building the tunnel into a well. Every stretch of Cason’s senses around the stone came back empty. A perfectly concealed escape route, and as he shifted slightly to look at the door Elias had closed, he realized why.
Purple glittered in the moonlight, so very faint that it wasn’t noticeable between the stones that created the false well. Crushed Veil shards, turned into a powder and mixed into the mortar to prevent any sun-blessed with a perception affinity from noticing. Cason would have missed it too, if he hadn’t somehow gotten used to feeling that little itch of dulled senses from spending so much time with Brela.
Oh, gods. Brela.
His head snapped up, heart unclenching as he found her standing and staring out at the destroyed village below them. The ends of her long braid danced with the breeze, but other than that, she was completely still as she stared at one house down below. She probably hadn’t noticed that she’d released her horse’s reins to clutch at her heart, Serill now trying to manage his own calm mount and her nervous one.
Cason had already seen the ruins of the large house that looked over this bit of land. The stables were still sturdy enough, like Elias had pointed out, and it was large enough for them to keep the horses without drawing any unnecessary attention. The village hadn’t fared better, probably because raiders and looters would see the destroyed manor house and not bother to head up the fairly steep hill only to dig through stones and splintered wood. It’s not like any valuables could be found in stables.
And then the destroyed shadow temple not a quarter of a mile away from the edge of that stone wall was the worst scar of the city.
He still felt that small sliver of guilt for questioning Brela’s decision earlier, especially after he should have known better than to doubt the woman who was always several steps ahead with her plans.
And perhaps he still felt a shred of that fear that had shot through him when the Night Terror had bared her teeth at him for it. Because it wasn’t Brela that had snarled, but the beast that lay underneath. The one that he should have known was thrashing inside her inner fortress at the sight of the shadow temple and army that sat on the other side.
He’d already thanked Serill for calming that tension, and then tried to make up for his mistake by helping Brela in the tunnel. It hadn’t been hard to connect the panic she felt to the reason she might feel such a thing. Maybe not this tunnel, but she’d escaped through one before. That scar would run deep, just as his own scars could stoke his fire.
“We should really get inside,” Cason said.
He moved to take a step toward Brela but a hand caught his elbow.
“Just give her a second,” Elias whispered as he pulled Cason back. “This is hard for her.”
Over his shoulder, he could see Serill and Farrah had paused halfway to the stables. The prince glanced at Farrah. “We didn’t take any of those other doors in the tunnel. Why this one?”
Elias shifted nervously. “Because Reinhart manor has been destroyed for a lot longer than those other villages. At least fifty years longer.”
Cason’s head snapped back to the earth-blessed man. “Reinhart…”
His green eyes flickered with sadness. “Yes. Tybost’s family’s land.” He glanced toward his friend who remained still. “Brela lived down there.”
Oh, gods, the house she stared at…
Brela’s head whipped toward him a second before he felt his senses flare. How she knew it, he had no idea.
A raid, not quite here, but close.
“Thirteen,” Cason hissed at her.
He regretted it a moment later because he saw the glint of fury in Brela’s pale eyes. Watched her jaw set in determination at a number that was no match for her. Even Elias flinched.
“Brela…” Elias warned.
Elias warning her? The man who had grinned at the opportunity to rip into the Wraturo was hesitant of the look Brela had in her eye. Not a good sign.
She blinked and focused on Farrah and Serill who had tensed, somehow keeping the three horses calm. Pain and conflict flashed in Brela’s eyes, and then it turned to anger and guilt as she looked back at Elias.
