“Caspian!” A familiar, though unexpected voice called out to him.
The eagerness in Florian’s tone caused him to stop, a choice Caspian instantly regretted.
He closed the distance between them in easy strides. “A very good morning to you, m’lord.” Florian offered him a teasingly over flourished bow.
Caspian gritted his teeth. Had Keira sent him? Whyhim?
“I can see you are very busy being lordly this morning,” Florian recovered Caspian’s lack of manners quickly. “Might I only ask where Keira is hidden away? I’ve asked your retinue and cannot get a straight answer from the lot of them. I assumed it was a matter of discretion, but seeing as you’re out and about, and very late I might add-”
“She’s gone.” Caspian interrupted him, unable to listen to him speak for another second.
Puzzlement disarmed the rogue’s charm. “Gone where?”
“I assume you would know better than I,” Caspian said, taking up his pace again.
Florian matched him. “Is everything alright? Has something happened?”
Caspian halted, rounding on the smaller man. “She’s gone, and she’s not coming back,” he said forcefully, finally. That’s all there was to be said.
“I see. Pardon me, my lord,” he said slowly. There was no irony or coy meaning behind that title. As if to worsen the effect, Florian went into a slow courtly bow before excusing himself.
Shame coiled around his gut. He’d lashed out like a wounded dog and bitten whoever came closest. Caspian pushed his hand through his hair and carried on. He just had to see this through and then… and then maybe he could tune out the world for a few more hours.
His thoughts were still heavy in his mind as Caspian came into the parlor where Lord Redfield was waiting. Trays of food were already arranged, though seemingly untouched. Lord Redfield stood as he entered and smiled at him, perhaps overly sweetly. No doubt he had heard the rumors as well. Why wouldn’t he be pleased?
“Lord Caspian, please sit. I was concerned when I heard you were feeling unwell this morning. I am ever so glad you managed to keep our appointment.”
They sat in opposing armchairs. On the small table between them, a stack of papers was neatly arranged beside an expectant quill.
“But now that you’re here, I think it would be best for all parties concerned if we were plain about the nature of this meeting,” Lord Redfield went on. “My sister is a highly eligible lady. If she has fallen from your considerations, I do her nofavors as a brother, or head of the Redfield family, by keeping her here.”
“Of course,” Caspian agreed.
“So then tell me, lord to lord. Shall I be toasting to a betrothal, or packing my things?”
It was time to move on.If he kept hanging on to hope, it would kill him. He could feel it now, threatening to pull him under once more. And to think only hours ago he had thought Fate would lead him down a different path entirely…
“I would be honored to accept your sister’s hand,” Caspian said.
Lord Redfield smiled. “Very well then, why don’t I pour us a toast while you do the honors of making things official?”
Caspian took the papers from the table and dipped the quill into the ink. His hand stilled over the parchment. Refusal reared within him, as if he were moving to make a mortal blow.It was time to move on. Caspian stamped the instinct down. This was the only way to heal. He’d known this before Keira returned. It had always been meant to end this way. Perhaps even the Fate knew that seeing her once more…losing her once more, was what he needed.
Caspian made his mark carefully.
“Splendid.” Victor handed him a glass of sparkling wine, lifting his own. “Let us drink then, to a wedding.”
Keira
It was dark when Keira heard the creak of the carriage opening. She was unsure whether she had been awake or asleep, but the sound sent a jolt of alertness through her body. Seven, she thought. This was the seventh time they had opened her door. The seventh night she had spent in this wretched wagon. Every day they had traveled, south if she was any judge, as the air had been growing warmer these last few days. This was as much as she could guess. Her body had grown so weak that she had stopped even trying to look out the little window on the carriage door days ago. Keira saved her strength for these moments.
It had been a whole day since they’d shoved that cursed potion down her throat. She could feel her magic like a fragile ember inside her. Keira reached for it, the power that had surrounded her as long as she could remember, but as always, it was just out of her reach. It was as if her fingers were just brushing against it, unable to take hold. Still, Keira tried. To outside eyes, she was lying motionless in the corner of the wagon as she had been since the night before, no evidence of the brutal struggle within.
On the first day, even the second, Keira had held onto hope that Caspian or even the Blades were coming to find her. She had no idea who her captors were, or how she’d fallen asleep in Caspian’s bed only to wake up in this cursed carriage. Butafter endless hours of travel with no sign of rescue, she began to wonder if they even knew she was in danger, or worse, if they had found themselves in similarly unpleasant situations. In either case, she had accepted that she would have to claw her way out of this herself.
She felt the weight of the brutes stepping into the carriage, moving cautiously. They had learned better than to think her harmless, no matter how wretched she appeared.
Keira focused all her will into the scant traces of her power that answered her call. She remained unmoving, arms tucked against her chest, as her fingers began to harden and curl into lethal talons. Her teeth grew long and sharp. Even such a simple transformation brought sweat to her brow.
