Promising Hope (14 page)

* * *

The door finally opened, and Grace jumped to her
feet. Her maidservant Marisa walked in. Grace tried to push past
her, but Marisa held her back with a strength she hadn’t expected.
She locked the door again and held a goblet out for Grace.

She ignored it. “Where’s Dar?”

“He’s back downstairs with the rest of the
prisoners,” Marisa said in a calm voice. “Drink, Grace, it will
make you feel better.”

Grace clenched her teeth. “What about the others?
Sierra, Evan?”

“Drink, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Grace knocked the goblet out of her hand. Marisa
clambered to save it, and Grace ran for the door while she could.
She broke into the corridor and took off running.

“Lady Grace!” Marisa yelled.

Grace ran faster than she had for days. She nearly
tripped on her dress on the way down the steps. Her throat started
burning, and the bottoms of her feet hurt. The pain was strangely
satisfying. She felt like she’d been dreaming for days, ever since
the jungle. Why had she ever agreed to come home? Was William truly
enough to endure this?

She made it to the ground level. She saw Tisha and
Kilar dragging Dar down the steps towards the dungeons, Father
behind them. She slowed, panting, and then Marisa caught up with
her. She grabbed Grace’s arm. “What are you doing?”

The men turned around at her voice.

“What are you taking him?” Grace asked, stepping
forward.

“He helped prisoners escape,” Tisha said.

“Prisoners who committed no crime!” Grace yelled.

“He needs to be punished,” Tisha replied, glaring at
her. He shot a vicious look at Marisa.

“No.” Grace stepped forward, and Marisa held her
back. Grace began to fight, but froze when she saw William
approaching them. His face was covered in blood, and her mouth fell
open. “What happened to you?”

“Evan Avialie,” he said.

Marisa let her go, and she walked up to William.
“Your nose?”

“It’s been healed.” He looked over his shoulder at
the men standing on the steps. “I came to see Dar punished.”

Her heart hammered. “William, please don’t let them
kill him.”

He turned on her, his eyes wide with anger. “How can
you ask me something like that?” His voice was low; she doubted the
others heard him.

She swallowed, forcing her hands not to fidget. She
had come back for him, but every inclination to stay was slipping
away from her like water.
Keep it up just a bit longer,
Grace
, she thought. “Please, William, I… it wouldn’t be
right.”

“He’s an Avialie, a traitor to this country, a—”
William cut off and fell silent. He studied her face. “Is saving
his life truly going to satisfy you? Are you going to want me to
let him go tomorrow? Are you going to want me to acquit him of all
charges? Where does it stop?”

She glanced at Dar just for a moment. He was looking
at her solemnly, as though asking her not to protect him. Just
looking at him solidified her resolve to do so. “I know he helped
prisoners escape, both today and in Rahuda. But it’s not illegal to
be an Avialie, at least not yet. Punish him and try him if you
must, but I could never love a man who killed someone so unjustly.”
She looked at her father. “And I would never forgive either of
you.”

Tisha cleared his throat. “We already asked your
father, your Highness, and he left Dar in our hands.”

“Punish him,” William said, his eyes locked with
Grace’s. “I will speak to my father about his death.” He stepped
closer to Grace and spoke into her ear so only the two of them
heard, “I will save his life, but if we ever have to speak of him
again, I will kill him myself.” His breath in her ear and his
chilling words sent a shiver down her spine. He pushed past her
without another word, and the men took him down the steps.

She moved to follow, but William called back, “Take
her back to her room.”

Marisa took her arm. Grace thought of protesting, but
she knew she’d already one won battle today. Dar looked at her one
last time, and she vowed to get them out of here.

Back in her room, Marisa locked her in. She was a
prisoner, just like Dar, except for she wasn’t being punished. She
paced in her room, imagining what they were doing to him and
driving herself crazy with horrible possibilities. What if they
ended up killing him? What if William lied?

The door opened again, and Marisa came in with a
light meal and a goblet of spiced juice. “What you spilled
earlier,” Marisa said, raising her eyebrows at her.

Just as Grace raised the goblet to her lips, the
doors opened again. William stood in the doorway. He held a bloody
handkerchief in his hand. “He will not be killed for the escapes
today.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“Stop locking her in here, Marisa. She’s not an
animal.” William left and slammed the door behind him.

Grace took a deep breath and sipped the juice. It was
so tasty she finished the whole thing. Her head rushed for a
moment, then a calm feeling overtook her. She felt a sudden urge to
be with William. She stood up and walked to the door, ignoring
Marisa calling for her. In the corridor, William was already
halfway down the corridor.

“William,” Grace called, jogging towards him.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder with a sigh.
“What is it now, Grace?”

She slowed as she reached him, her face flushing. She
walked straight into him, wrapping her arms around his torso. It
reminded her of their reuniting in the Cosa forest, the Mumbar
Jungle. He was surprised at first, then hugged her back. She
inhaled his scent with a deep breath. When she was this close to
him, she could hardly think about anything else. She hardly
remembered what had happened today or yesterday or even the last
week.

He stepped away after a moment and studied her. She
lightly touched his nose where the blood had dried. “It’s all
healed, right?”

He nodded. She had a strong urge to kiss him, but she
knew it wouldn’t be proper. Who cared about being proper when they
loved each other as much as they did? She froze. He did love her,
right? Oh, goodness, she had no idea what she might do if he didn’t
love her.

He stepped back, putting his hands on her shoulders.
“I need to deal with things, Grace.” His voice was soft. “I’ll
check on you later.”

With each step he took away from her, the ache in her
heart intensified.

* * *

Dar winced as the whip hit his back again. He tasted
blood in his mouth—he’d bitten down on his lip so hard he’d cut
himself. He licked his lip, the coppery feeling touching his
tongue. The whip came down again, and pain coursed through him. Hit
after hit after hit. Soon, the edges of his vision started to go
dark. He tried to fight it, but he soon fell into
unconsciousness.

The respite was brief. Another strike to the back
brought him back to the present, pain and all. He groaned against
his will and bit his lip again.

“Enough, that’s twenty,” a voice finally said. Jon.
Dar could kiss him.

Someone grabbed his hair, forcing his head back.
“You’d be dead if weren’t for that bitch,” Tisha hissed, then
slammed his head down onto the chair he’d been leaning on.

That was true. He would have died in Mumbar Jungle.
Or maybe he never would have been stabbed. If it weren’t for Grace,
he’d never be in this situation at all. But he’d fallen in love and
he hadn’t been able to let her go. He doubted he’d ever be able
to.

* * *

An ear-piercing wail made Sierra’s hair stand on end.
She clutched her reins, clenching her teeth at Nilee’s sobs. Mort
had struggled ever since they’d fled the castle eight hours ago,
and half an hour ago, he’d finally stopped completely and nearly
collapsed on his horse. The other elders surrounded him and now…
well, Sierra didn’t need to be any closer to know what had
happened.

Adrian rode up to them. He, Evan, and the other men
had been keeping a patrol around the group since the king’s guards
and a few Protectors had followed them. Most of them had been taken
down, and the rest had turned back, but Adrian and his men still
rode at a distance from the others.

“We must keep moving,” Adrian said.

Lisbeth glared at him, her mouth moving but her voice
so quiet Sierra couldn’t hear her.

“No, he’s right,” Jeshro said, getting to his feet.
He moved back, and Sierra could see Nilee bent over her husband’s
body, moaning and crying. “Nilee, I’m sorry, but we have to move.
We’re still far from Jolen, and there will be more guards pursuing
us.”

Lisbeth helped Nilee to her feet. Nilee fought
against her, protesting about Mort’s body. Adrian whistled, and a
man named Galvin rode up. Sierra watched, her throat tightening, as
they wrapped Mort’s body in a blanket and hoisted him onto Galvin’s
horse. He set off in front of the others, and the remaining elders
slowly got to their horses. Nilee’s sobs hit Sierra right through
the heart. Mort had come back to defend her in the battle. This
whole thing had been her idea—the meeting, the treaty. Now Mort and
Caleb were dead, and Adrian was wounded, and Vin and Amina were
barely keeping up with the rest of them, and Matilda and Angela
both looked ready to collapse, too.

“Come on, let’s go,” Jeshro called. “We still have a
long way until Jolen.”

They took one break eight hours later, taking the
chance to sleep for a few hours in a deserted village. Sierra found
Evan and clung to him before he left to patrol the camp.

By the time they reached Jolen, Adrian, Evan, and his
men were going on nearly two days without sleep. Galvin had ridden
straight to Jolen with Mort’s body, and he came out with Bea and
Harver and the other Avialies. Jade flew towards Sierra, throwing
her arms around her neck and asking if she was hurt. Once Sierra
assured her she was fine, Jade turned to those who were wounded and
started helping them in to see Ivan, the Thieran from Nyad.

Sierra watched as everyone filed in: Lisbeth
supporting Nilee; Adrian with a wound in his arm; Evan and the
other men, bags under their eyes. What had she done?

“Everyone take the time to rest,” Jeshro announced.
“We’ll convene in the meeting room first thing in the morning.
Evan, Sierra, Matilda, Lisbeth, we’ll talk now. Adrian, come see us
once you see the Thieran.”

“I’m fine—” Adrian began.

“After you see Ivan,” Jeshro said, his voice
hardening.

Sierra nodded, her muscles tensing in expectation.
She helped Vin and Amina to Ivan, then went to the meeting room
with Evan. He had a small cut on his forehead. It had scabbed over.
The rest of him was covered in dirt: clothes, face, even his
hands.

“This won’t take long,” Jeshro said.

An apology rested on Sierra’s lips. This had been her
idea, and it had gone abysmally. Nothing could have gone
more
wrong, to be honest. She clenched her hands in her lap,
waiting for him to turn on her. What kind of Protector was she?
What would Grace have done, if their positions were reversed?

“This was a hard hit, but we learned,” Jeshro
said.

“Yes,” Lisbeth said quietly, “and we have Vin and
Amina. I want to tell Amina of her role in my prophecy.”

“You can’t,” Sierra replied, her eyes widening.

“Sierra—” Lisbeth began.

Sierra’s voice rose. “Do not tell her. Let her find
out for herself.”

“Tell her what?” Matilda asked.

“Nothing,” Sierra said. “Right, Lisbeth?”

Lisbeth glared at her. “I’m an elder of this family,
Sierra—”

“And I am its protector.” Sierra pointed to her
chest. “Right now, I’m protecting Amina. She’s spent the last month
in the palace, half-starved, working all hours of the day and
night, and you don’t need to put this burden on her. She needs to
live life, not be worried about getting pregnant.”

“Don’t speak to her like that, Sierra,” Jeshro said
in a low tone.

“I’m the—” she cut herself off. She was about to say
she was the reason Amina was even here, but that was very wrong.
Matilda, Angela, and every man who’d fought today were part of the
reason Amina was here. Caleb and Mort’s lives had been sacrificed
for her. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Lisbeth,
I’m asking this as a favor. I don’t need to remind you what
happened when you prematurely told me and my sister about the
prophecy.” She narrowed her eyes at the old woman, who didn’t look
away. Bold.

“I’ll tell her within a month, at least.”

Sierra crossed her arms. “We’ll see.”

The door opened, and Adrian strode in. The blood was
still on his sleeve, but he was no longer cradling his arm. He sat
across from Sierra, a frown on his face. “This was a disaster,” he
said.

Of course he would be the one to complain. Sierra was
about to respond when Jeshro did.

“I know things didn’t go our way, but—” Jeshro
began.

Adrian scoffed. “Things could not have gone worse! We
lost Caleb, and Mort is gone.” He glared at Sierra. “We could have
been searching for Gregorio this whole time. We’ve lost nearly a
week preparing for this, and for what?”

“We learned how to infiltrate the castle,” Matilda
said firmly.

“We couldn’t even change at first!” Adrian said, his
voice rising. “Maybe if we’d had a stronger Cosa, we could have
done it.”

“There’s no Cosa stronger than Wendy,” Matilda
said.

His eyes squinted in confusion. “Wendy?”

Matilda huffed. “The Cosa protecting the palace. When
Evan killed Jared, she took Jared’s place. And against her, we did
just fine. But maybe next time you’d like to take our place?”

“Yes, perhaps next time, you’d like to nearly get
your arm chopped off,” Adrian spat.

“Please,” Jeshro said. “It is over. For what we tried
to attempt, we had great success.”