But even as that thought takes root, I sense the control he’s trying to maintain. He knows he must think of our bond and of his constituents. If he is to resign his position as a commander and return to Frostfall to gather the rest of his people, he willneed the king’s support to do it safely. And more than anything, he refuses to put me in danger by acting recklessly.
You will have your revenge soon enough, Gideon,I say through the bond. But I can’t help but spare another thought for all the innocents from Hollins who will undoubtedly perish during the attack.
We reach the upstairs hallway, and I take a moment to gaze at the paintings of shipwrecks. However, I’m not really interested in them. I’m stalling. I’m nervous about seeing my father again. This won’t be a happy reunion. We’re here to warn him about an impending attack. An attack he’ll know is coming but won’t be able to warn others about. Knowing my father and his compassionate nature, he will agonize over his inability to spread the word and perhaps save a few lives.
But Gideon intends to glamour him into compliance, and I sense there is no changing the stubborn fae male’s mind. Part of me understands his bloodlust. If someone hurt my father or even Gideon, I suspect I would crave some form of vengeance too. But not the conquest of an entire town. Not the slaughter of innocents.
Gideon pulls me forward and taps lightly on my father’s door so as not to disturb the other guests. From within, I hear rustling, followed by footsteps and low murmuring. Tears burn in my eyes. My father tends to talk to himself when he’s anxious. Hearing it now makes my chest tighten.
The door swings open, and my father stares at us in shock.
“Isabel.” Papa searches my face. “Something is wrong, isn’t it?”
I give a slight nod, unable to find my voice.
“Come in,” he says, stepping aside as he holds the door open.
Gideon places a hand on my lower back, guiding me inside. We move to the center of the tiny room. My father shuts thedoor, turns to face us, and immediately narrows his eyes at Gideon.
“We came to warn you,” I whisper. “In about one week, the Winter Court army will attack Hollins.”
Papa looks away from Gideon and meets my eyes. His expression is filled with alarm and perhaps a bit of disbelief. He draws in a breath, preparing to speak, only for Gideon to interrupt him.
“If you remain inside the inn, you will be safe. I will make sure my people know this building isn’t to be touched. Everyone inside will be spared.”
“Oh, gods.” My father’s face turns ashen. “Over five thousand people call this town home. Why are you…” His voice trails off, and a vacant look enters his eyes as he briefly sways on his feet.
Winter magic. Gideon has just glamoured him.
My heart breaks a little, and I swallow back a sob. I don’t like seeing my father like this. I didn’t mind so much when Gideon glamoured him to make him keep the gold, but this is different. My father’s innate kindness, his desire to help others, is being suppressed.
“For your safety, Mr. Sinclair, you will remain inside the inn until the battle is long over, and you will not tell anyone about the impending attack.”
My father murmurs something unintelligible under his breath. Eventually, he nods and turns to stare out the window, as though he’s no longer aware of our presence.
Gideon grasps my hand. “There. It is done. Your father will survive the battle, and so will anyone else who stays inside this establishment during the attack.”
He means the proprietor, the servants, and the other guests. I suppose that’s something. A few innocent lives that will be spared. But oh, how I wish more could be saved.
“Goodbye, Papa,” I whisper.
When he just stares out the window, still wearing a dazed look, I find myself blinking back more tears.
“Come. We must leave.” Gideon sweeps a hand over his face, putting his human disguise back in place. He guides me into the hallway, shutting the door on the way out, sealing my father in the safety of his room.
He’s going to survive, I tell myself.I’ll see him again.
“Yes,” Gideon murmurs, having heard my thoughts.
I’m grateful we don’t encounter anyone as we depart the inn, but my spirits sink when I glimpse more people on the streets than when we first arrived. I try not to look at them as we head down the main road that leads out of town, but I inevitably keep glancing at their faces, illuminated by the torchlight.
Keep walking, little moth, Gideon sends down the bond, his voice gentle, though I sense his unease. He’s starting to wish he hadn’t brought me along. He thinks it would be easier for me if I had stayed at the cabin.
Maybe he’s right.
Just as we reach the edge of town, I spot two familiar faces among the passersby, and my steps falter even as Gideon tries to pull me along.
It’s Mr. and Mrs. Geltrinn.
