“Good,” he said. “Obedient, at last. The King will be pleased.”
He turned, already striding back through the fog toward his mount. “Dusk,” he called over his shoulder. “If you make me wait, I’ll make you regret it.”
The horse reared once as the odious man mounted, then vanished into the mist.
Ilys stood in the doorway, the taste of blood in her mouth. Behind her, the cottage lounged still and warm and small, the last place she had ever known peace.
Guilt curled in her chest, nestling in its favorite crevice. She cursed the weak naivete that had brought her here and madeher think she deserved such. She forced her feet forward, already grieving the last of her love she had to give.
You are too soft.She heard Grim’s voice in her head.
And it had almost cost her everything once more.
Chapter 17
Months later, Ilys stood with her arms folded, watching as Morrigan darted after a bundle of cloth Elspeth had tossed into the air. The dog leapt, catching it between his teeth with a sharp snap before landing in a flurry of paws and dirt. His tail wagged fiercely, his dark, scruffy fur shaking as he trotted back to Elspeth, dropping the cloth at her feet, expecting a grand reward.
“You see,” Ilys observed. “He prefers a proper chase. If you throw it too lightly, he won’t bother.”
Elspeth nodded, her graying hair slipping from the loose knot at the nape of her neck. She picked up the cloth and tossed it again, higher, faster. Morrigan barked once, then took off after it, his legs a blur.
“He’s always so lively,” Elspeth said, grinning as she watched him tumble into a pile of leaves, shake himself free, and bound back toward them.
“He’ll need the exercise while I’m gone,” Ilys reminded her. “Twice a day if you can manage, or he’ll tear the laundry apart just to entertain himself.”
Elspeth laughed. “Understood.”
Morrigan returned, dropping the cloth with a huff before flopping onto the ground, rolling onto his back, paws twitching lazily in the air. His tail thumped once, then again, waiting for another game, another chase. But Ilys didn’t move to throw the cloth this time. Instead, she crouched beside him, running her fingers along his ribs.
He was strong now, though still lean. His fur had grown coarser since his pup days, and beneath it, she felt the orderly pattern of his breath, the solid warmth of his body pressed against her leg. He rolled upon the fabric tendrils of the veil that tickled the ground, grounding his scent into the dark cloth. Ilys wore Grim’s veil now. The one she had plucked from his room after finding him gone. After so many weeks of wear, his scent had begun to fade. She supposed that was for the best. She told herself not to be so childish.
Mor huffed dramatically as she scratched behind his ears, stretching out further to demand more. The darling mutt so often whored for attention.
Then time slowed, stretching its incorporeal arms to cover the garden in a sheet of lethargy. The air around them thickened, a weariness pressing down over the courtyard like a held breath. The sky, once bright with the crispness of autumn, darkened as clouds rolled in unnaturally fast, their edges tinged in shades of gray and deep violet. The lilies at the garden’s edge, vibrant just days before, wilted in an instant, their petals curling inward and their stems bending. The cool wind stilled entirely. Even Morrigan, who had been so full of life just moments ago, tensed beneath her touch, his ears flattening as his body pressed closer to the ground.
Ilys scowled at the sky and held Mor close.
“My boy,” she resigned, pressing her nose to his, feeling the soft warmth of his breath against her veil. “I’ll be leaving now.”
Morrigan nuzzled against her, but an indulgent unease shifted through his disposition.
She forced a smile, running a hand over his head, smoothing back the fur at his ears. “Be handsome. No mischief, yes?”
Morrigan, in response, licked the side of her face with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Ilys sighed, pushing him away lightly before rising to her feet. She dusted off her robes, her fingers curling into the fabric, grounding herself.
“The satchel, Elspeth.”
The attendant stood a few steps away, silent, watching.
Ilys turned, tilting her veiled face at her. “The satchel?”
Elspeth blinked, startled, caught in some distant thought. “Yes. I'm so sorry. I’ll bring it now.”
Morrigan whined, rolling onto his side, his eyes flicking between them as if he, too, knew what lingered just beyond sight.
She did not look back as Elspeth hurried away. She didn’t need to.
