Chapter 15

Chapter

Fifteen

We dress hastily. Owen draws up his pants and steps into his boots, then throws on his shirt but doesn’t bother with his jacket. I wiggle into my nightgown, the closest piece of clothing I can find, then put on my slippers and snag a dressing gown from a hook at the door. Then Owen throws open the door, and we follow Uram through the darkened corridors, our steps quick.

“What’s going on?” Owen demands, glaring at Uram. “Is it Lady Willow?”

“Aye.” Uram cuts a gaze over to me. “She was caught wandering the corridors all on her own.”

Owen’s frown deepens. “What? How could she have been caught ? Aren’t we free to walk around the Hill?”

“Not in that particular corridor,” Uram replies.

I know immediately what must have happened. Whether by accident or on purpose, Willow must have stumbled onto the corridor leading to the Heart of the Hill. Always heavily guarded, it’s the one place we haven’t shown the newcomers yet, and for good reason. It’s the most closely guarded secret of our clan, and if Willow went there to expose it…

But no, she has chosen Ozork—she married him, for gods’ sake. I don’t believe she would willingly endanger him, not after everything that happened between them.

“Mara?” Owen takes my hand and squeezes my fingers. “Are you hearing this? What’s going on?”

“Just wait until we get to Gorvor,” I urge him. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for this.”

Uram leads us to the king’s parlor, separate from the rooms where Dawn and Arvel must be sleeping. Uram raises his fist to knock, but Owen flings the door open without warning and storms inside.

“My lady! I came as soon as I heard.” He stops beside her, his gaze sweeping the room. “I didn’t have the time to rouse the other soldiers.”

Willow straightens her spine, her hands clenched in her lap. “That’s all right. We won’t need them.”

He frowns but stands behind her, guarding her even though her mate is right there, too. I’ve never seen Owen on duty, not really, because Willow hasn’t needed his protection before, and I understand now why he’s a captain, not a regular foot soldier. He exudes authority, even in the face of several orc warriors who may or may not be his allies.

My cousin shifts in his chair. “Willow, is there anything you want to say before we begin?”

Her gaze darts to Ozork and back. She hesitates a moment, then asks, “Could I get the notes from my room, please? I would like to show them to you.”

“Would you allow Neekar to fetch them?” Gorvor asks.

This prompts a protest from Ozork—and all I can think of is that this could have been avoided if only I’d spoken up to my friends about what Owen told me. If Willow truly had a nefarious purpose for her midnight stroll, I might have let Ozork, one of the best orcs in the clan, get shackled to a spy .But I was too preoccupied with my own issues, too trusting of Willow’s intentions, perhaps. She’d seemed so happy at dinner tonight, I was certain that her sleuthing days were behind her.

I glance up at Owen, who is frowning fiercely, no longer sleepy but completely alert. If this escalates into a true argument or, gods forbid, a scuffle, whose side will he fight on? My stomach sours at the thought of him having to choose. It would be an impossible situation, one I’ve wanted to avoid from the start.

But I couldn’t have waited any longer with my confession—I had to tell him how I feel and what he means to me. If that complicated matters, so be it. At least we’re no longer hiding the truth from each other. Every decision from now on will be made with open eyes on both our parts.

We know the lay of the land now, as Owen would say, so we’re at least heading into battle well-prepared.

Neekar returns minutes later, panting slightly as if he’d run the entire way to Willow’s room and back. He hands the king a pile of papers, all scribbled over in a woman’s neat hand.

“Willow,” Gorvor says, paging through the notes. “Would you mind explaining what you were doing in that corridor in the middle of the night? Neekar said you were sneaking around, peering around the corner.”

Owen frowns at me, shrugging almost imperceptibly as if to ask what the king is talking about. I can’t tell him, though, not without my cousin’s permission, so I bite my lip and look down at my slippers, guilt building up in my chest.

Gods, this is just another secret I’ve been keeping from Owen, isn’t it? This time, it’s not mine , and I couldn’t give it away, but will he see the truth of it?

Ozork stares at Willow, aghast. “You went there? Why?”

She frowns, her eyes suddenly blazing. “Because you lied to me.”

Ozork blinks, then lowers his head. “Forgive me. So I did.”

I stare at him, wondering what’s going on. This concerns us all, aye, but if Ozork hasn’t received permission from the king to show Willow the Heart, he shouldn’t have mentioned the place at all.

“For gods’ sake,” Gorvor explodes, apparently sharing my feelings. “I will not have a spy in my clan. So, Willow, I would ask you to start talking. I want to know what’s going on.”

She lets out a tremulous exhale, glances up at Owen as if for support, then says, “I know this looks bad, but I want you to know that I would never willingly endanger anyone in your kingdom.”

Gorvorwaves the notes from Willow’s room, his expression fierce. “There are notes here on guard rotations. Storage capacities of our larders. The number of children in our school. There is even a map with all the strategic spaces clearly marked.”

Owen steps forward and points at the paper. “I drew that. That’s mine.”

My heart stutters, and a cold wave of fear washes through me. If he’s serious, if he truly participated in this, then he lied to me. I’d asked him if he was spying on our clan, too, and he’d denied it, I’m sure of it.

But Willow just waves her hand to dismiss his interjection. “Yes, you drew it for me . My lord…” She turns back to Gorvor, her chin held high. “The notes were going to be part of my report to the Duke of Ultrup. He sent me here to learn about your kingdom—but mostly to uncover the secrets to your success. I’ve written down every possible weakness one could exploit to gain advantage of your clan.”

Ozork’s eyes widen with shock. “Willow!”

But she just grips his hand and continues, as if she wants to get the entire story out. “I talked to Captain Hawke, and he mentioned that all the spaces in the Hill seemed to be constructed in circles around something . There’s an empty space right in the middle.” She points at the sketched map. “And that corridor seems to be leading toward it. So when Ozork and I passed it returning from your chambers tonight, I asked him what it was.”

I glance from the map to Owen, who drew it. He’s staring at me, and I know now why he’d been so interested in all the passageways I’ve been showing him. He’s been building a mental map of the Hill, and he must have noticed the way it’s structured.

That doesn’t mean he wants to hurt your clan .

I hang on to the reminder with all I have because I don’t want to believe him capable of deception. Everything we’ve built together is based on trust, and if that crumbles, I don’t know what we’ll have left.

Ozork runs a palm over his face. “I told you it was nothing.”

“Only a storage space, you said.” Willow purses her lips. “I couldn’t get it out of my head. Why would a storage space be the most brightly lit space in the Hill in the middle of the night? So I went to investigate.”

Gorvor is silent for a long moment, studying the papers. His skin turns ashen at whatever is written on those pages, and my stomach drops. I know Gorvor well enough to know he wouldn’t react like this to some minor issues. Whatever Willow uncovered about our clan must be dangerous.

“You said these were going to be a part of your report to the duke,” he says slowly.

Willow’s expression brightens. “That’s right.”

“But…you changed your mind?”

She stands and steps away from Ozork, toward the king. “If you’ll allow me…?”

Gorvor hands her the papers, and she shuffles through them, then draws out several pages written in neat, clean lines.

“This is the beginning of my current report for the duke.” She hands the papers back to Gorvor and takes her seat again.

He scans the notes, expression still severe. Then he surprises me by offering the first page to me. “Here, read this.”

I lift my eyebrows but read the beginning of the report with interest. There are notes on the meals Willow must have eaten since her arrival at the Hill. On the second page Gorvor hands me is a detailed description of Poppy’s seamstress workshop, including all the colors of the silk fabrics Poppy has ordered from the south. That’s followed by the report of her riding expedition with Ozork the other day, which delighted her to no end because of how lovely the nature was.

I can’t help but smile when I realize what Willow has been doing.

“May I read those as well?” Ozork asks.

Gorvor and I hand him the report, and he scans it quickly, his frown growing with every line.

“But this is completely useless,” he exclaims.

Willow gives him a quick nod. “Yes.”

“You didn’t mention any details at all.” Ozork shuffles the pages once more.

As Willow protests that she did include details—only irrelevant ones—I glance at Owen. He has relaxed a tiny bit, his hands no longer clenched into fists.

From how surprised he was by Willow’s solution—to feed her uncle, the duke, only unimportant information and make it seem like she simply hasn’t noticed anything that would be truly damaging to the clan—I don’t think he knew about her plan. He looks up at me then and finds me watching him. His gaze sharpens, then he gives me a quick shake of his head.

Relief blooms inside me, washing away some of the guilt I felt earlier. Willow did not deceive Ozork, and if she did find issues with our clan’s security, she wasn’t going to expose them to the humans. I believe her, and I trust Owen, but it’s down to Gorvor to decide what he wants to do with the lot.

He frowns at Willow. “Is the rest of your report going to be similarly entertaining?”

“I expect so.” She clenches her hands in her lap and adds, “I haven’t reported on the number of your chickens yet, or the dishes you served at your dinner party. I’m also looking forward to describing the decorations for the solstice celebration.”

“We’ll have to make them very beautiful, then,” I jump in, eager to steer this conversation into more peaceful waters. “If you’ll write about them to the Duke of Ultrup.”

Gorvor asks to keep Willow’s notes, and she agrees. I move closer to Owen, the need to touch him proving too great. He shifts slightly, and when I stop beside him, he’s the first to reach out and touch my hand. With Ozork’s attention on Willow and Gorvor, we share a short moment of peace. Owen’s relief is palpable—he must have been just as worried about the outcome of this midnight audience with the king as I have.

I give his fingers a quick squeeze, and he squeezes back. When Gorvor stands, I tug my hand away, but only because I want to return to my room with Owen as soon as possible, and I know our friends would have questions for us if they noticed us holding hands.

“Ozork, I believe Willow would enjoy a stroll to that cursed corridor,” he rumbles. “And I will enjoy some sleep—if Arvel hasn’t woken up in the meantime.” He’s nearly at the door when he turns back and fixes his stare on Willow. “I would ask you for a promise. I think you will understand once you see what Ozork will show you, but I need your promise that you will never speak of this to anyone outside our clan.”

Willow agrees immediately. “Of course, my lord. You have my word.”

“The future of our kingdom depends on it,” Gorvor warns.

Then he hands Ozork the big iron key from his belt, the one that unlocks the grate Uram and Neekar were guarding tonight.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, then grab my cousin by the arm before he can leave. “I would like to show Owen the same.”

He stares at me, his dark eyes thoughtful. I have no doubt that he’s thinking about what I told him that morning, which seems so very far away now. So much has happened since then. But now I understand he trusts me, too, as much as I trust him.

The corner of his lips twitches up, softening his grim expression. “Will you vouch for him?”

I glance at Owen, standing by my side. “Aye.”

I sense more than see Gorvor’s approval, because he puts on his regal frown again and stares at us, one after the other. “All right, is that all, or does anyone else have an emergency?” When none of us speaks, he blows out a long breath. “Thank the gods. Goodnight, everyone.”

Grabbing Owen’s wrist, I lead him over the threshold. “We’ll wait for you outside and go together,” I tell Ozork and shut the door behind us.

If I need a moment alone with Owen, I can only imagine what Ozork and Willow must be feeling after this terse audience with the king. I wait for my cousin’s footsteps to move away from us, then step on my tiptoes and kiss Owen on the lips, grasping his shirt. He brings his arms around my waist, returning my kiss.

“What just happened?” he asks as we pull apart. “What are you going to show us?”

“You’ll see.” I listen for any sounds of Ozork and Willow. “I’m sorry you had to go through this. And I’m very glad Willow has decided to quit her job as a spy to the Duke of Ultrup.”

Owen snorts softly. “Oh, yes. Otherwise this night would have ended much differently.”

He hugs me, his cheek resting against my temple, and lets out a long exhale that tickles my ear. I shiver in his arms, my body remembering all the delicious things we did in my room earlier tonight.

“Your ears are so sensitive,” Owen murmurs. He presses a kiss to my earlobe, then bites down ever so gently on the pointed tip. “I love them.”

I gasp at the sensation, then bury my face in his sweet-smelling shirt. “I love you .”

He grips my shoulders and moves me away from him so he can meet my gaze. “What was that?”

“I love you,” I say more clearly. “And I’m very glad you won’t be exiled from the clan or tied up and thrown in a dungeon.”

Owen frowns at me. “That’s…oddly specific. But I love you, too. All of you, not just your ears, in case that’s unclear.”

I grin, unable to help it. After the myriad of emotions that have rolled through me in the last days, this mixture—exhaustion, relief, and pure joy—is the nicest of all.

A chair scrapes back in the room, so I quickly ask Owen, “Do you want to tell Willow and Ozork about us tonight?”

He hesitates for a moment, then shakes his head. “No—and it’s not because I want to hide it. But they will have questions, and I want to return to your room as soon as possible.” He kisses the tip of my nose, then straightens and steps back. “And I have plans, you know.”