Daybreak (33 page)

“A pirate captain?” Horatio roared. “A
pirate
captain?”

“He doesn’t pirate anymore! He runs an honest trade,” Aerilyn yelled back.

Horatio’s girth lurched the table forward as he sprang to his feet. “Outlaws don’t change! Men who have the taste of blood on their tongues will never be anything more than —”

“He’s not a savage! Don’t even say it.” Aerilyn’s chair clattered onto its back when she stood. “He’s an honest, decent man. And I happen to love him.”

Elena slipped away from the table as quietly as she could. Had she known a trip to Pinewatch would be so dangerous, she would’ve died in the woods rather than let Aerilyn drag her here.

The yelling carried on in a never-ending stream behind her as she paced towards the room’s one small window. It was blacker than a cave’s mouth outside, but her eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly. After a moment, she smiled.

It seemed that Fate had given her a chance at the Countess, after all.

Countess D’Mere watched from beneath the hood of her cowl as the last of the house’s patrons stumbled out the door. There were tears in her clothes and bits of bramble lodged in the knot of her hair. A bruise swelled across her ribs. It bit her with a fresh sting as she shifted her weight.

A mere few days ago, she’d been safe inside her castle — confident in her plan. Another army was coming after her. Someone else wanted her blood. But she hadn’t worried. In fact, it’d given her the opportunity she needed to escape. While Midlan clashed against this other force, she’d planned to slip away quietly.
 

They would cross the lake and disappear into the woods beyond the village. The other army would perish against the strength of Midlan, and Crevan would assume she’d been killed in the fight. D’Mere had seen to it that the castle burned, wiping away any hope of finding her body. She’d thought it was the perfect plan.

But, she was wrong.

Nothing could’ve prepared her for the night when the other army struck. She’d underestimated its force: the army devoured Lakeshore in minutes, dragged it into a burning oblivion. Then it charged along the shore and slammed against the castle.
 

She’d never seen such cruelty, such a deranged lust for gore. They’d used their fists, their heels … their teeth. She’d seen her own shock reflected in Midlan’s eyes as it sprinted for the gates, felt the desperation in the pounding as it tried to force its way inside.

But the moment the soldiers’ backs were turned, the other army fell upon them … it tore their bodies apart like wolves …

 
It was only by sheer luck that D’Mere and the twins had managed to escape. They burned the castle, but these new enemies weren’t fooled — and they pursued her.
 

Several of her agents had fallen into this army’s hold. They were men who knew the forest better than the tops of their boots. They knew which paths to watch, which roads to block. But worst of all, they knew how to track her.

They’d been locked in a desperate chase around the forest, trying to stay one step ahead of their pursuers — trying to get out. But the army had them hemmed to within a few miles of Lakeshore’s smoldering ruins. It forced them to run in a circle, and the circle was growing smaller by the hour.

Even now, D’Mere swore she could hear their footsteps dragging through the darkness. Their heavy breaths scraped across her ears; their hollow eyes peeled the night away …

Left gripped her arm.

“No, not yet,” D’Mere whispered, her gaze upon the windows. Darkened figures bustled past them, wielding mops and brooms. “Once things quiet down a bit, we’ll begin.”

They’d arrived at Pinewatch in the early afternoon. It was an incredible risk to linger in one place for so long. But after days of getting nowhere, D’Mere realized they had little choice.

There was a chance they might be able to break the army’s line and escape the forest, but they needed supplies. She’d stashed a few bottles of poison in Garron’s house long ago — in case he was ever under attack. But he’d never needed them.

And with Garron gone, this place was nothing more than a house inside some worthless village. She no longer cared if it was protected.

They’d slept for a few hours in the woods outside the house, waiting for the cover of night. D’Mere thought it best to slip in unnoticed. She didn’t want news of her survival leaking out to Crevan:
one
army on her trail was more than enough. But even if her supplies were still there and everything went according to plan, they might not make it out of the forest alive. Their enemies were far too close.

Then, just as the sun began to fall, she’d noticed something … intriguing. It was something that might slow the army down, something that — in the proper light — might possibly draw its attention away.

An unexpected gift.

At last, the lanterns dimmed and the servants stored their mops. D’Mere waited a moment longer. “Are you prepared, Right?”

The young forest man nodded. There was a nasty bruise swelling over one of his eyes and the golden crest upon his tunic was torn. But the blood that spattered his sleeves wasn’t his own.

D’Mere pursed her lips as she drew a small envelope from the pocket of her breeches. “Mix this in with the leaves. Remember, it’s the tin with the blackberries. Make sure you aren’t spotted.”
 

He disappeared into the darkness, calm and silent as a wraith.

“Find us a fresh set of mounts,” D’Mere said to Left as she crawled from the shrubs. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”

She stepped to the front door alone, her cowl drawn over her eyes. Something moaned behind her and she nearly jumped before she realized it was only the wind. The bruise on her ribs throbbed to life as her heart began to pound.

Finally, D’Mere’s limbs thawed enough to push on the door. The latch was undone. She stepped inside to the sounds of an argument: the cook blustered about something, and Aerilyn shrilled back. There wasn’t time for it. There wasn’t nearly enough time. But D’Mere slowed to listen.

“I never should’ve let you go off on your own!” the cook cried. “This whole mess is entirely my fault. You were far too young, you knew far too little. Had I kept you at home, that pirate never would’ve snared you.”

“He didn’t snare me — I chose him!” Aerilyn said back. “I love him!”

“No, you only
think
you love him. I know how these roguish fellows work. They’ll say whatever it takes to get around your skirts —”

“Ugh!”

“— and then they sail off at the grayest hour of the dawn, never to be seen or heard from again. I’ve known far too many bright-eyed young women who’ve fallen into their trap,” the cook railed on, ignoring Aerilyn’s protests. “Now one of them’s gotten to you. He’s ruined you!”

D’Mere glanced into the office as she passed and saw them glaring daggers at each other from across a long, food-stained table. Once she’d slipped by, she set her eyes down the hall —

“We have a son,” Aerilyn burst out.

D’Mere paused.  

“A son?” There was a loud
thud
as the cook’s girth struck the seat of his chair. “You … you’ve become a mother?”

“I have. And it kills me every moment I’m away from him. But there are far greater things happening in the Kingdom — horrible things that no one around here seems to understand. I came to the forest because I thought I could help the seas. I haven’t come for your blessing, and I don’t need your lectures. Lysander is a good man, Horatio,” Aerilyn said severely. “He cares for his people, and he cares for me. I have to practically force him to leave my side. Goodnight.”

D’Mere took a few rushed steps down the hall.

“Wait — please!” The cook’s chair scraped the ground and his steps thudded quickly towards the door. He reached Aerilyn just as she was about to cross the doorway. D’Mere caught a glimpse of her shadow as she turned.

“What?”

“It’s a difficult thing, learning the little girl I’ve looked after for so long has become a woman. I can’t imagine you as a wife or a mother when you’re still a child in my eyes. Just … just give me a moment to let it all sink in.” The floors creaked as he shifted his weight. “I’ll have one of the girls make us a fresh pot of tea. Then you’re going to tell me everything …”

D’Mere was gone before the cook lumbered through the doorway. She darted up the narrow flight of stairs and down the hall to a room she knew well. It’d been her room once, for a brief season many years ago. She was pleased that Garron had given it to Aerilyn.

The door opened to the dimly-lit chamber beyond. One lantern glowed on the bedside table. All of the other lights had been put out. The room still reeked of their muted wicks.

D’Mere didn’t bother to close the door behind her. She drew her cowl back and paced straight to the window, where she leaned out into the night. Though the air was cool, a cold sweat filmed her throat. She had to close her eyes against the forest’s pitted stare, against the moaning of the wind. As long as they were open, they would try to trick her into thinking she saw other things: soulless bodies dragging through the brush, hollow gazes turned unblinkingly upon her face.

Her arms began to shake the longer she stood in the window. Nearly every part of her screamed to draw the curtains and step back inside … except for one.

Cords of a dark, quiet something snaked their way through her veins. It was soothing — the caress of an old enemy easing its way into her blood. Though most of her shrank back beneath its spell, there was a part of her that loved the darkness … and it woke with a moan.

This other woman grinned at the danger. She no longer felt like a carcass hanging above a pack of wolves, but counted herself among them. D’Mere was the fiercest wolf, the most cunning of them all. The others would cower against her strength.

In a matter of moments, the scout would find her. There was no chance he would miss. She was raised among the trees with a lantern glowing at her back — a beacon for her enemies. D’Mere couldn’t have made herself anymore of a target.

And she wasn’t disappointed.
 

The scout’s signal drifted through the woods: the faintest call, the screech of an owl. The others would be close behind. Now all D’Mere had to do was make sure they stayed.

She drew the curtains tightly closed and paced back, smiling when the door creaked shut behind her. Soft, practiced footsteps paced across the floor. D’Mere knew that tread. She’d been listening for it.

“That was clever, using my daughter to get through the forest unscathed. Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always been the clever one. And how is my Aerilyn?”

“Not a thing like you,” Elena snarled. “She would be ashamed if she knew the truth.”

“Yes … which is why we never told her.”

“I don’t know how you did it, Countess. I don’t know how you escaped Crevan or survived long enough to make it here. I don’t know what you’re doing in Aerilyn’s room, but I don’t care.” There was the faintest hiss of a dagger sliding free. “I’m just glad we’re going to have the chance to … settle things.”

D’Mere smiled when Elena came to a stop at her back. “You’re finally going to do it, are you?”   

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.” 

“You should. You have every right to slaughter me where I stand … but you can’t do it.” 

“The only problem I’ll have is figuring out how best to kill you.”

D’Mere sighed at the pressure of a dagger’s tip against her back. It stuck tightly to her skin, but went no further. The blade didn’t plunge through her flesh or draw a line of her blood — and it wasn’t like Elena to hesitate.

This was going to be far too easy. “Go on … kill me.”

The dagger pressed tighter, pushed her flesh nearly to breaking.

D’Mere laughed. “Don’t go soft on me now, girl. I thought you were a killer.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re a disappointment.” 

D’Mere spun, slapping the blade aside. Elena’s dark eyes burned above her mask; her brows were fixed in a glare. But her twin daggers hung loosely from her hands.

She still clung to it, then — this hope she’d held onto since she was a child. Elena’s eyes turned up to her now in the same way they always had. She watched D’Mere through their tops as if, at any moment, she might dissolve the wall between them and draw her close.

But it would never happen. This hope she held onto was nothing more than a dream — and over time, it’d become her chain. It was the very chain D’Mere had used to bind her. There was no longer any pointing pretending. Elena was of no use to her. In fact, she’d stopped being useful a long while ago.

It was time her chains were broken.

“I expected so much more from you, Elena. You could have been so much more — you have within your grasp all the power of Death, perfected.” D’Mere spoke softly, careful to hold her eyes. “But you’re too weak to wield it.”

Her brows cinched together even as her glare wavered. “I’m not weak.”

“Look at you,” D’Mere hissed. “You’ve spared a woman who’s tried to have you killed half a dozen times, who heard your screams and did nothing to stop them. Yes, I know why you hated Holthan.” 

D’Mere took a step forward when Elena stumbled back. She’d lost her grip: her scowl was gone, replaced by a mix of hurt and shock. Now it was D’Mere who held the dagger … and she would show no mercy.

“You … knew?”

“Of course I knew. Not a whisper passes through my castle that I don’t hear. I’d hoped that you would kill him for it. I would’ve been proud, had you killed him. But I suppose you loved him too much —”

“I didn’t love him! I hated him!” Elena screamed.

D’Mere smirked as she watched her knuckles go white about the twin daggers. “No, you loved him, Elena. The only people you love are the ones who’ve hurt you. You can’t seem to help it. Do you want to know what I think?” D’Mere stepped into her. She wound her fingers through the dark waves of Elena’s hair and whispered: “I think you love to be hurt because it suits you … you know that you deserve it.”

“I don’t …”