Brielle inhales sharply and spins, a dagger from the sash at her chest pressing into this stranger’s own throat in less than a heartbeat. She blinks in surprise, findinga young man she recognises. Rue, who she met at the court in Highborn. His hair is a little longer than when she saw him there, blond streaks telling a tale of time spent outside the marble halls of the court over the past few weeks. Yet there is that same quiet gentleness about him, so at odds with the people for whom he works and the sense of unease they elicit. ‘An ambassador for the ruling council of Arnhem, now thisisunexpected. You are alone?’
He holds up his hands, showing his palms. ‘I always travel alone.’
Brielle weighs how much danger he presents, how much Dreska faces, and decides that, right now, it’s minimal. She could disarm Rue if it came to it. His lips twitch into a smile as she replaces the dagger in her sash. ‘What are you doing here, in a northern forest of Lorva?’
‘I could ask you the same,’ he says, leaning against a tree trunk, crossing his arms. ‘Unlikely place for an assignment. Your coven usually favours requests from Leicena or the mining region of Valstra at this time of year. Can’t be much advantage to accepting anything from these parts. Not enough coin. Unless Coven Septern have fallen on hard times?’
‘An unusual assignment, shall we say. One no hunter would usually wish to handle.’ Brielle realises he may not yet know that she has broken ties with her coven. Which means he believes she is still an ally to the ruling council, a fact that she can most definitely turn to her advantage. ‘I am out of favour at my coven since, well …I must prove myself.’ She coughs discreetly, hoping he catches her meaning, that she failed to capture and bring in Mira. He nods, as though in understanding. ‘When we met, you didn’t mention where your work takes you.’
‘I did not,’ Rue agrees, and she is struck, like the first time they met, that his accent and manner seem unplaceable. He’s someone who can blend quite seamlessly. Someone with a canny knack for observing. But, in all her travels, she likes to be able to place a person, to learn quickly what makes them tick. With Rue, she is unsure. ‘My work brings me to the Middenwilds this season.’
‘Developing good relations with the principalities?’ Brielle asks.
‘Of a sort,’ Rue replies cryptically. ‘The ruling council are always seeking good terms, trade deals and allies. In Lorva, Kir …’
‘Hindelvach?’
Rue blinks as though swiftly calculating a response and smiles. ‘You know, I haven’t visited the court there recently.’
Brielle senses the lie, the slight stiffening of his tone, but decides not to press him. Whatever he’s keeping from her regarding that principality, there are better ways to uncover the truth. She’d rather he believed her an ally. For now, anyway.
‘Nice evening for a wander in the forest,’ she remarks, watching him. ‘A little far from the court of Lorva, though.’
He only smiles again, looking past her to the fog-laced air seeming to bounce off a curved, invisible surface. ‘What are you up to, Hunter?’
Brielle shrugs. ‘This and that. If I were you, I’d move back to the road, find somewhere to bed down for the night.’
A growl rakes the air, and she swears. But Rue just settles in more comfortably against the tree trunk, seemingly unaffected by the nearby cries of a wither beast. ‘I can see you are unafraid. Which means you’re hiding something.’
‘As are you,’ Brielle says softly. ‘Let’s play a game. One truth, one question.’
‘Seems reasonable. Ask away.’
‘What is the ruling council’s interest in the Middenwilds?’
He chuckles, shaking his head. ‘Straight for the jugular? All right. The ruling council want to establish a trade route. A way of bringing materials from Valstra through one of these territories.’
Brielle frowns in confusion. The locals at Tavern Lomask did mention the felling of trees by a landowner, as though they were being cleared. It seems Rue has been busy indeed, if Lorva has agreed to that. But why through the Middenwilds, with its border of Skylan on one side, the sea on the other? The sea that no one has dared cross for decades due to the vast monsters lurking in its inky depths. The last crossing by a merchant left a fleet torn in two, with horrifying whispers of krakensand worse feasting on human flesh. ‘But the sea route through the Straits is established. It’s—’
‘Owned by Skylan, a territory that raises exorbitant levies to line its dwindling coffers.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘My turn. Is that a witch you’re hiding in that fog behind you? Or a creature?’
She crosses her arms, contemplating her response. ‘I don’t see why I should tell you.’
‘Fair’s fair, Hunter.’
‘It’s a girl who is nearly a witch. I am trying to save her from becoming a wraith.’
‘Ah,’ he says, eyes flaring wide. ‘That doesn’t sound like an assignment from your coven at all. I’ve had few dealings with Coven Septern, and this doesn’t strike me as a valuable venture. Or one to earn you clemency.’
‘Was that a question?’
A smile dances at the corner of his mouth, and she wonders if he’s realised he’s been led towards a lie. That she is not working for her old coven at all. ‘Merely an observation.’
A cry, more girl than beast, ricochets around the clearing and Brielle turns to see that the mist is slowly dispersing. She steps closer, heart in her throat, searching for any sign that Clarus is over for Dreska. That the witch has survived. ‘Stay back,’ she says quietly to Rue over her shoulder. ‘If she marks you, she may think you’re a threat. She might not be in her right mind just yet and a new witch is often extremely powerful for a short burst.’
Brielle steps closer, approaching carefully, and finds Dreska standing in the centre of the clearing, hands limp at her sides. Her eyes are closed, ebony smoke snaking up her wrists. The phantom shape of a wither beast lies motionless at her feet, fading quickly to nothing but dust. Brielle exhales softly, the relief leaving her dizzy, fast replaced with something harder. Stronger.
Victory.
