But even as the thought forms, my chest tightens. IknowMaelor. Using my power against him feels wrong.
“Good. Now turn around, Angharad,” he says.
Slowly, I pivot, my arms still raised. As his piercing gaze sweeps across me, I look past him, expecting to find Taliesin and Gwenydd bound in chains. Or worse. But the tent is empty save for several warriors from the campfire, and Owen, who is methodically patting Brioc down.
I examine their leathers for blood, but there’s no sign of a fight on any of them. What happened to Taliesin? Is he safe?
Maelor frowns. “Where’s your bow?”
“A bow? We don’t have—” Brioc starts.
“Where you’ll never find it,” I cut in, my heart pounding. If Maelor doesn’t realize there’s more of us, maybe they missed Gwenydd and Taliesin somehow. Maybe he’s okay.
Maybe there’s still a way out of this.
Maelor scowls like he doesn’t believe me, slowly shaking his head. “Angharad. What a disappointment to see you here…with a rebel. When the High Swynwragedd told us you’d left, I couldn’t believe it. I was certain you’d return and beg for penitence. After everything the Order’s done for you, how could you walk away?”
I rear back. “What are you talking about? I didn’t walk away. They sent me on an assignment.”
“An assignment without Osian?” He shakes his head. “I find that hard to believe.”
“I’m telling the truth. I signed a document,” I insist, heat rising in my face.
How could they? The Order has told everyone I deserted. They’ve painted me as a traitor rather than tell the truth about my assignment. Realization twists like a snake in my gut.
Taliesin was right all along.
If I’d returned to Caer Draen when I said I would, they would have taken me prisoner, assignment completed or not. Even with a revenant in hand, even after fulfilling their demands. The moment I killed that rebel in the borderlands—the moment I resurrected Osian—it was over for me. They were never going to let me walk free after that.
They would have kept me caged until they had another use for me.
A terrible ache widens inside my chest. All those smiles. All those gifts. They were nothing but pretty lies meant to keep me obedient while they slowly tightened the leash around my throat.
“Hmm.” Maelor arches a skeptical brow. “Then what are you doing with this rebel, Angharad?”
I clench my hands. “I won’t answer any more questions.”
“Have it your way.” He turns to the warriors behind him. “Chain her.”
Owen gestures toward Brioc. “What about him?”
A pause. “Him, too. We might be able to extract some useful information about the rebels’ base.”
Three Rhyfelwyr advance on me, chain in already in hand, while the others surround Brioc. I wet my lips, my eyes darting around the tent. If I ran, how far would I make it before someone buried a sword in my back? My stomach twists. Not far. They’ll all have fresh spellwork on them. With that unnatural strength in their limbs, I wouldn’t stand a chance.
The warriors reach me. One roughly grabs my arms and wrenches them behind my back. Iron bites into my skin as manacles snap around my wrists. Fear and anger burn through my chest. Chained, once again.
Maelor’s fingers dig into my shoulder as he pushes me forward, steering me out of the tent. Brioc stumbles beside me,his face red with fury. The moment we step outside, my gaze snaps to the forest where we left Taliesin and Gwenydd. I search desperately for any sign of a chattering pine marten scurrying past, or frost creeping across the ground like death searching for its next victim.
But all is still, quiet, and as warm as it ever is this far north—which is to say the trees blunt the worst of the wind, though my still breath frosts before me as we’re escorted toward a smaller tent nearby. Canvas has been stretched around a tree that splits the structure down the middle.
The interior is empty other than a few lanterns, and a moment later I understand why.
The Rhyfelwyr shove us down beside the trunk and fasten our chains around it, trapping us in place. Bark digs into my spine. There’s barely enough slack to breathe.
Maelor folds his arms. He refuses to meet my eyes, like he can’t bear the sight of me.
“You’re to stay here until we decide what to do with you,” he says.
