Daena smiled sadly, the flickering light playing over the burns on her face. “I was living in the temple a couple of miles outside Staith. There was a great herbalist there, and I wanted to learn. I’m not a healer, but I thought one day I might…. Anyway, we were attacked by reivers. It was after the war and people were hungry. They burned the temple, and I got trapped inside. Andred himself lifted the beam that set me free.”
Daena shrugged, a wealth of pain glimmering in her eyes. “The Wraiths took me back to their camp and looked after me. Shared their food and water. Changed my bandages. When they asked me to help, I felt I owed them. I didn’t understand that Andred would never let me leave.”
“But surely this isn’t safe for you?” Tor rumbled from behind her. “This camp full of reivers and soldiers who abandoned their posts.”
“It’s not,” Daena agreed, “but I told Andred that if one of his men so much as touches me I will never read truth for him again. Turns out having your own truth seeker is pretty valuable… more valuable than the life of a rough, half-savage reiver. The men understand that touching me earns a death penalty.”
“So why lie about me?” Keely demanded.
“The men can’t touch me. That doesn’t mean I’m safe from Andred. I read the truth for him, but I also confirm his truth to others when he demands it.” Daena gestured toward the tent flap. “You’ve seen the guards. They keep the men out and me in. Not that I’d get far on this ankle.”
Damn it. Keely almost felt sorry for the woman. Almost. Not enough to trust her though.
“You have to get out of here,” Daena said. “Caius wants you dead, and Andred will listen to him eventually.”
“What was their original plan, Daena? What were they intending to do in the spring, once the men were better trained?” Tor asked quietly.
The Nephilim woman sighed. “They planned to sweep south, taking the poorly defended northern cities, emptying the barracks, and recruiting men. By the time they reached Kaerlud they expected to have amassed a huge fighting force: enough men to easily overwhelm the city guards… and then the palace.” Daena closed her eyes for a long moment, and when she opened them again, they were bleak. “Andred wants to be king.”
Bard. “On what grounds?” Keely asked.
“His grandfather was a marquess—one of the original councilors. Andred claims the title and the noble Apollyon bloodline that goes with it. And he believes he’ll have an army behind him.”
Damn. “What about Lucilla?” Keely asked. “Surely he recognizes her as the true queen?”
Daena rubbed her fingers slowly down her scar. “He hates Lucilla as much as he hated her brother.”
“Because Ballanor reneged,” Tor muttered.
“Yes,” Daena agreed. “They were supposed to get lands and a huge payment after Ravenstone. Instead, Ballanor sent a message to say they were discharged, and if he ever saw them again their lives were forfeit.”
“So, they planned to take it for themselves,” Keely said quietly, her heart thudding heavily in her chest. “And they’ve just moved up their schedule by six months…. Now the war starts tomorrow.”
Chapter Eighteen
Tor was sosick of war. Sick of all of it. He had never questioned his family’s belief that he should be a soldier, but now he did. Now he wondered what else he could have done with his life. How would he feel knowing his child was going to war? Or Keely?
Deep in Keely’s belly was a tiny spark that would one day grow to be a person. A little girl with her mother’s green eyes and fiery spirit, or a boy with black hair and a cheeky grin. And one day that child would grow up and choose what to do with their life.
The thought rocked through him.Please gods, please, not a soldier.
This was why Keely had left. Why she had fought against giving her heart to a soldier. Not because she didn’t believe in him. But because she understood the agony of losing someone to war. She had been trying to protect herself. Protect their child. And yet she had still been prepared to take a chance on him.
Gods, she was strong. After all she had borne, she was still standing. Still fighting. By some miracle, she was still with him. She had let him hold her when he had been half certain that she would push him away.
She hadn’t said that she forgave him, but she had kissed him, her arms had wrapped around him and held him close. It was a start.
When she’d put herself between him and Andred, he’d thought his heart was going to stop. And now she was caught up in this nightmare war that the fucking Wraiths were determined to start.
They had to get away from Andred and his insanity. They had to warn the others. Prepare Lucilla for what was coming. Most importantly, Tor had to get his family—Keely and their child—to safety.
He closed his eyes and visualized their position. For the first time in months, he felt confident in his abilities. He hadn’t failed Geraint; they had all been betrayed, again and again.
He could come up with a strategy to get them out; it was what he was good at. And then, once Keely was safe, they would plan their future.
They were inside a tent, with no weapons, guarded by three soldiers and possibly Daena. The tent was surrounded by many more tents all filled with soldiers, many of them undisciplined, little more than the reivers they’d been. Beyond that were the ramparts topped with palisades, sheer mountain walls, and one narrow gully leading to an exposed ridge. All bordered by a huge mountain lake.
His eyes snapped open. That was the weak point. The lake. The huge, mist-covered, icy lake that led who the fuck knew where.
