Chapter Eighteen

C HAPTER E IGHTEEN

The fairy’s cold eyes flicked to Lady Long-Nose, and he said, “You may accompany Sabinus’s true love.”

At once, the world seemed to turn upside down, and they stood now in the center of a strange copse of trees. No bird sang, no creature stirred, and worst of all, nothing had color. The fairy’s clothes had changed to silver armor, and he wore upon his head a crown of human finger bones.…

—From Lady Long-Nose

Freya watched Elspeth as she packed the next morning in the room across the hall from Freya’s. “Aren’t you being a bit hasty, darling?”

“No,” Elspeth replied. She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think. She just wanted to leave.

Her heart was broken. It had always seemed like an overdramatic expression—a heart breaking—but that was exactly how she felt. As if something within her was broken and could not be repaired.

And now she was crying again.

“I really will gut him if you ask,” Freya said in a distressingly sober voice. “Just tell me.”

“Don’t kill Julian.” Elspeth sniffed, patting her eyes. “He doesn’t deserve it. If anyone deserves to be gutted, it’s me.”

Freya scowled. “I really don’t see how that’s possible.”

“It’s because I betrayed him,” she said.

“How?”

But Elspeth had started tearing up again, so she just waved her hand.

A knock came at the bedroom door. The maid peeked around the door and said, “Your Grace, there’s a visitor—”

“Leave us,” came an imperious voice from the hallway, and Deidre Dungrave walked into the room.

A knife suddenly appeared in Freya’s fist. “What do you want?”

Deidre merely raised her eyebrows at the knife and said, “Calm down. I’m not here to hurt either of you. Quite the opposite.”

The Wise Women’s Nemain was a tall woman with pale-blond hair and startling green eyes. She held herself as if physically fighting Freya would be no trouble at all.

“May I sit?” she asked, sounding a little amused.

Freya gestured to a chair—with her knife hand. “Please.”

The Nemain nodded and sat gracefully. “I’ve come to tell you that Eve has been tasked with your death, Elspeth de Moray, and I will protect you from her.”

Elspeth exchanged a glance with Freya, who looked cautious.

“Eve?”

“Oh,” Deidre said, sounding almost embarrassed, “you don’t know her. Eve is a little shorter than me, has brown hair, and has a badly stitched scar on her face just here.” She motioned to her upper lip. “She was supposed to be my replacement.” Deidre’s voice was disdainful.

“I don’t think we need worry about her,” Elspeth said.

Deidre’s brows snapped together. “Why not?”

“Because I killed her,” Freya said matter-of-factly. “Would you like some tea?”

Deidre blinked. “Yes.”

“Certainly,” Freya replied, and went to the door. She summoned a maid, requested tea, and shut the door again, all without taking her eyes off Deidre. She came and sat back down and said, “Now tell us why the Hags were so eager for Elspeth’s death.”

The Nemain shrugged. “I don’t really know. They seemed upset because Elspeth is looking around for a diary?”

“Maighread’s diary,” Elspeth leaned forward to say.

Deidre waved a hand. “Quite. But that doesn’t really sound like a reason for execution.”

“What if I found it?” Elspeth asked, ignoring Freya signing to be quiet.

“That would be interesting,” the Nemain said. “Especially considering how much the Hags don’t want it revealed.”

Another knock came on the door, and they were silent as the maid brought in tea.

“Well,” said Freya when the maid had gone away again, “I suppose we owe you thanks.” She handed a teacup to Deidre.

“Hmm.” Deidre sounded doubtful. “You’re welcome, I’m sure, but I didn’t kill Eve. Erm. Where exactly—?”

“The Thames,” Freya said crisply. She waved the question of bodies and where they lay aside. “Will you be returning to the Wise Women?”

“No,” the Nemain said. “I don’t like how they’ve decided to live.” She hesitated. “Though I could if it were for something important like delivering Maighread’s diary.”

Freya looked pleased. “Then perhaps you’ll escort Elspeth?”

“I’d be honored to,” Deidre replied. “I can leave tonight if you’d like.”

It was settled, then, Elspeth supposed. There was no reason to delay any longer. She’d be off to Scotland by tonight.

She’d probably never see Julian again.

Elspeth set her teacup down, doing her best to hold in any wayward tears. Just until she got outside, anyway. “I’d better get my things from Whispers House, then.”

“Take the carriage, dear,” Freya said.

Elspeth could only nod.

The air was lovely and crisp when she stepped outside for the carriage to be brought around. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sky to cool her hot cheeks.

This should be the happiest day of her life. She’d found Maighread’s diary, she had an escort to Scotland, and she was leaving tonight on her quest to save the Wise Women. It was more than she’d even dreamed of when she’d arrived in London.

She’d succeeded.

And Julian had told her flatly that he could not trust her.

Had her lies been worth it? Was making the Wise Women whole again worth the cost of Julian’s trust?

She knew the right answer: Yes. Saving her family, her home, and everything she believed in, of course that was worth the loss of one man’s regard.

Of course.

But that one man—Julian—weighed heavier than the world to her. Her heart told her she’d made a mistake.

Elspeth was so lost in her dreary thoughts that she didn’t even notice the carriage beside her before the door opened.

She turned and saw a woman, a familiar woman, and for a moment her brain scrambled to place her.

And then she realized. Alice. Alice from Adders Hall.

The maid.

She opened her mouth to shout, but a large man wrapped his hand around her head, pulling the hood of her cloak over her face, suffocating her in the folds.

She fought, of course.

She elbowed a hard stomach. Clawed at the hands lifting her. Kicked at the body dragging her into the carriage. But the problem was she couldn’t breathe. Black spots flooded her eyes, and soon she couldn’t fight at all.

Julian glanced around the inn room, looking for any belonging he might’ve missed. He and Quinn had stayed here for over a month, but they had brought very few things with them to London. What there was fit into a trunk, sitting at his feet.

He nodded to the waiting porter. “Bring it down.”

In the lower room, Quinn was meant to be settling the bill with the innkeeper, but Julian saw him at the bottom of the stairs, reading a letter.

His brother looked up as Julian approached him. “When did you last see Lady Elspeth?”

Julian scowled because Quinn had made no attempt to lower his voice, and the tavern was crowded. “Last night. Why?”

“Uncle has her.”

Julian’s heart stopped. Just stopped, and the world with it. Augustus couldn’t—

Quinn turned to the door with his usual readiness to action, but Julian caught him by the arm. He had to think. “What does the letter say?”

His brother balled up the paper and shoved it in his pocket, his eyes concerned. “Better you don’t read it. Augustus wants you at Windemere House.”

Julian drew in his breath. It must be very bad if Quinn wouldn’t let him read the letter.

He used all his control to ask with a steady voice, “Is she alive?”

To his credit, Quinn made no attempt to conceal his doubt. “The duke writes that she is.”

Augustus lied. It was his defining trait. But if Elspeth was dead… the room started swirling.

No.

No. She was alive. She was beautiful, and unhurt, and her smile still held sunshine. Any other outcome could not be considered. He had to remain sane.

Quinn’s arm flexed beneath Julian’s fingers, but he made no move to pull away. “What do you want to do?”

And this was what Julian loved most about his brother: Quinn’s willingness to follow Julian into battle without question or quarrel. “Go to Hawthorne. Tell him. Have him bring his men. All of them, and make sure they’re armed.”

Quinn nodded. “And you?”

Julian was already striding to the door. “I’m going to Windemere House. To bring back Elspeth.”

Behind him, his brother grunted. “Don’t die before I get there.”

And then Julian was out the door.