Chapter 4

4

Ella

I fled the woods as quickly as my feet would carry me and didn't stop running until I reached the farm road that led to our manor.

I had no doubt the high lord would catch the bloodsucker who'd attacked me—which gave me a cold sense of relief—but I wanted to put as much distance between the immortals and myself as possible. The last thing I needed was for the lord to take an interest in me. With any luck, he'd ignore the knife wounds in my assailant's chest. Hell, maybe he'd butcher the creature and not even notice what I'd done.

I tried to steady my breath. They'd been hunting him , not me. I didn't matter. I'd be okay, and so would Belle.

By the time I reached the manor, I almost believed it.

The two-story stone house wasn't enormous, but it was home and always filled my heart with joy. Rosebushes lined the sides, their blossoms the palest pink. They bloomed almost all year round, except in the coldest months. I assumed it was something in the soil because we didn't need to do anything special to care for them.

Despite the relief of home, my troubles tonight were far from over. A light flickered in the sitting room windows. It offered no comfort or warmth. Belle wasn't there—it was my stepmother, Lucille, waiting like a wolf.

I slipped through the gate and hurried through the back door into the dark kitchen. I quickly latched the door behind me and pressed my back against it, my chest still heaving from the run, my mouth dry. Tarran had told me that the immortals couldn't cross a threshold uninvited. It had to be true, right?

Probably not.

"Ella." My stepmother's icy voice cut through my thoughts—a stone-hard summons. I'd stayed out far too long, and there would be a price to pay.

"Coming!" I quickly cleaned the blood from my hands and arms, then scooped Pip off my shoulder and placed him on the old wooden counter. "Stay here. I'll be back," I whispered under my breath.

"I'd better not have to call you again," my stepmother said, this time with an edge of iron.

"I'll be right there!" Hanging my coat, I smoothed my hair and dress and headed into the warm light of the sitting room.

My stepmother sat straight-backed at my father's oaken desk, her hands folded in her lap. She was an austere woman wearing a dark, high-necked dress; two ever-present silver bracelets were her only adornment. "Where were you?" Her eyes flashed as she rose, scooping up the papers that littered the desk. "You're a sweaty mess. You weren't with that farm boy up the road, were you? Gods help me, I will teach you a thing or two if you were."

I shook my head. "I was out looking for Belle, and I lost track of time."

"And your senses. Your sister's problems are her own damn fault. She'll show up when she's good and ready, and I'll whip her hide for it. Trust me, you don't want to be there beside her."

I'd be beside her, whatever came.

"How can you be so callous?" I asked, my voice low but quaking with anger. "Aren't you worried at all?"

My stepmother shoved the papers into her lockbox, turned the key, and slipped it back into its hidey-hole in the floor. "Of course I'm worried. But I have people out looking for her—people who know what they're doing. I do not need you lost as well."

My chest tightened. She had people looking? Why hadn't she told me or included me? I knew my sister's patterns better than anyone. It was like there was always a wall between us, like my stepmother lived a secret life that she wanted me to have no part of.

She replaced the wooden slat over the hidey-hole and dragged the rug back over it, then glanced at the old clock on the mantle. "Searching for Belle is no excuse for returning so late. Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for dinner?"

"I ran into an immortal in the woods."

The words slipped off my tongue like it was the simplest thing in the world, like it was just gossip or something that had happened to someone else.

My stepmother froze, and her lips tightened into a taut line. "Don't you dare lie to me, not about that."

"I'm not. It was near where Belle gathers herbs. There were three of them—two lords and a fugitive."

Her face paled. She crossed the room in two steps and grasped my jaw, turning my head left, then right, to examine my neck. "Did they bite you?"

Fear thrummed beneath the anger in her voice.

"No."

She released me forcefully and then inspected my arm, pulling up my sleeves. "You reckless girl, do you have any idea what kind of mess you could have gotten yourself into?"

Of course I did. We all lived beneath the specter of the bloodsuckers.

I pulled out of her grasp. "I'm fine. I got away."

"It's a miracle you're not worse off. I hope they scared the foolish straight out of you, because the Fates know I haven't been able to. You should never have been in those woods to begin with."

Belle and I went out there nearly every week to pick berries for her breakfast or herbs and mushrooms for her tea. "I go out to gather with Belle all the time. You've never stopped us before."

"Yes. And now we're looking for her."

The words punched me in the gut. My neck heated, and I turned to leave before I said something I'd regret, but she caught my hand. "Promise me you won't go searching in those woods again."

I let out a deep sigh, doing my best to smother my frustration. Wherever Belle had gone, it wasn't there.

"I won't," I promised.

Some of the tension left my stepmother's body, and she slumped back down on her chair. "Why the Fates thought it fit to burden me with two willful girls and no husband, I'll never know."

"Neither will I," I muttered.

As if she were the only one who'd lost my father.

She looked up. "What was that?"

"I'll go prepare dinner."

Her lips pulled back. "Dinner for one. Maybe a growling belly will help this lesson sink in."

"Of course," I said, and headed to the kitchen, just glad to be free of her. Pip was sitting where I left him, teeth bared at the door like a savage little thing. I scooped him up and put him on my shoulder. "You mustn't let her see you. She'd snap your neck."

He chittered angrily as I began to prepare a rushed meal.

"She's just worried for Belle and me. I can't hold that against her," I explained. "Her anger gets the best of her."

A proper stew or hot meal would've taken hours, so I laid out a board with soft cheese, cured meats, and the rest of the morning's baking. Then I tossed together a quick salad with garden greens, the last of Belle's mushrooms, and onions from the cellar, and dressed it with my homemade vinaigrette. Even though I hadn't made a portion for myself, I licked a bit of dressing from my finger, savoring the sweet and tangy taste of defiance.

I brought the meal and a flagon of farm ale to the table where my stepmother waited. Hopefully, she'd indulge in the beer and be asleep by the time my work was done.

"You'll do your sister's chores tonight as well as your own," she said as she picked up her fork and prodded at the cold fare.

Of course I would. Who else was there to do them?

"And polish Clorinda's and Thisbe's saddles. I may go riding tomorrow, and I don't want to give people the wrong impression about us."

My stepmother was capable of that all on her own. She was a bitter woman, but I knew she'd had a good heart once. Before Father had died, she'd often been kind, even nurturing at times. I clung to those memories when she was at her worst.

I refused to forget that part of her, even if she had.

Dismissed, I rushed back to the kitchen and cleaned the mess. I gave Pip a hunk of cheese, then leaned back against the counter and took a deep draught of the ale. It was cold from the cellar, and the bubbles soothed my parched throat. Perhaps it violated the spirit of her command, but not the letter. Of course, that wouldn't stop her from tanning my hide if she caught me with ale on my breath, but I had no intention of spending another minute in the house. I had hours of chores ahead of me.

I closed my eyes and exhaled, trying to savor the moment of rest—but instead of finding a place of calm, my thoughts filled with him . The dark rider. A vision of terror. Impossibly cold and beautiful, mounted on his stallion. I could still feel his eyes boring into me. My chest tightened, and my pulse raced. There was fear in me, but also something else. A flutter in my stomach.

Just nerves.

I grabbed a lantern and lit it, suddenly extremely thankful for the hours of work lying ahead of me. I knew I wouldn't sleep unless I was dead exhausted. Pip gave an annoyed squeak and grasped for another crumb of cheese as I snatched him up and headed out into the farmyard.

I herded the chickens back to the coop in a din of outraged clucking, then counted them quickly. I found the last renegade hiding behind a dilapidated haybale and escorted her back to the others, then sealed them in. "It's dangerous to be out after dark, you silly thing," I said as much to myself as to her.

I fed the milk goats, who were all too happy to ignore their dinner and nuzzle my hands, here and there trying to sneak a bite from the sleeves of my dress. I'd learned that nothing was so delicious as the forbidden taste of fabric.

Pip hid behind my neck as I poured a little milk for the cats who prowled the farmyard. They purred as they rubbed around my ankles, and I scratched one on the rump, but Pip gave my ear a savage nip. "Fine, I'll stop," I told him. "No cavorting with the enemy."

My feet were aching by the time I finished the chores and cleaned up the kitchen, but I still had to deal with my stepmother's prized mares, Clorinda and Thisbe.

The horses nickered and stamped the floor as I entered the barn.

"I'm sorry I'm late."

Thisbe bit at me.

I unlocked the special cabinet where I kept the oats and some apples. They fought each other over the bucket of oats and then nearly took my fingers off going for the fruit. I filled their trough, then set about brushing them. Clorinda's haunches tensed, and I scooted back, narrowly avoiding a kick. While Thisbe was aggressive, Clorinda was the treacherous one.

I could talk the temper out of a goose, but those two had never warmed up to me, despite every attempt to win their favor. They were the only ones on the farm who didn't do a lick of work—aside from my stepmother, who treated them like they were little goddesses.

After I cleaned the stalls, I threw myself into vigorously polishing the saddles. Needless punishment or not, I took pride in my work, and I was going to make them gleam.

"Ella?" a male voice whispered.

I jumped back, knocking over the lantern and looking wildly about for a pitchfork or a stake. I seized the bucket of oats and held it in front of me like an incredibly stupid shield.

The man slipped into the barn. "Ella, it's me!"

Not a man. An idiot farm boy.

My cheeks heated. I dropped the bucket and scrambled to right the lantern before it set the place on fire. When I stood, I threw a handful of dirt at him for good measure. "Tarran, you son of an ass, what the hell were you thinking, sneaking up on a girl like that at night?"

"I'm sorry, El," Tarran said, with a broad grin splitting his lips. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I saw the light. You're not usually so jumpy."

He'd known me since we were young. Unlike most boys, he'd never made me feel like an outcast because of my lavender eyes or silver hair—but he could be a pain in the ass sometimes.

Still, it was almost impossible for me to stay angry at him.

I sank down on a haybale. "I was almost bitten by a bloodsucker tonight, and you nearly gave me a heart attack sneaking up on me."

The smile drained from his lips, and his broad shoulders knotted with tension. "Are you serious? Are you okay?"

I was suddenly reminded how much he'd filled out in the last few years. Although we'd been friends since childhood, thinking of him as a boy was unfair. He had strong arms and a square jaw and would be rather handsome if you cleaned the dirt off—though of course, he was nothing like the dark rider. That was a different kind of man. Statuesque and perilous. Gorgeous and forbidden.

I self-consciously dusted my dress clean. "It's nothing I can't shake off."

Tarran stalked over, his posture vibrating with protectiveness and concern. "You weren't bitten, were you?"

Suddenly, we were very, very close together. His eyes locked on mine, and there seemed to be unspoken words hanging on his lips.

It was too close, too much, after all that had happened. I slipped away, needing a little room to breathe. "No. I wasn't bitten. I swear I'm okay."

"Good. I was just worried."

Tarran was always worried and always looking out for me. His attentions were kind, even flattering, but sometimes it felt like he didn't see the strength I had—that I had to have.

I returned to polishing the saddle. "What are you doing here, anyway? It's late, and if my stepmother caught me speaking to you?—"

He glanced at the door as if he wanted to make sure she wasn't lurking, then crossed his arms and leaned against a post. "I know, but I need your help."

Of course he did. There was always another shoe waiting to drop.

My stomach squirmed with hunger, and I became keenly aware of how absolutely exhausted I was. But this was Tarran.

I closed my eyes and braced against the saddle. "Okay. What do you need?"

"It's Hen. My brother must have left the gate open, and she got out again. You're the only one she listens to."

Hen, his prize sow. It was the stupidest name for a pig I'd ever heard.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "You have to learn how to catch that pig yourself. Where are your brothers?"

"Drunk. They'll only make things worse or make a game of it and frighten her out of her mind. Please, Ella, I know it's late, but I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to her," he whispered. "She's special."

My shoulders cried in protest, but I took a deep breath and nodded. "Why not? The day can't get any shorter."

"Thank you!" He almost hugged me, but he probably remembered we weren't kids anymore because he stepped back. "I'll owe you a huge favor."

I'd add it to the list—though I'd lost count of the tally years ago.

I dimmed the lantern, and we headed outside and started down the starlit road.

"It'll be quick," he assured me. "She listens to you. And just think, you can tell me all about the bloodsuckers while we walk. I've never been close to one. What were they like?"

Terrible. Violent. Cold.

And utterly enthralling.

My gaze drifted from the dark mountains that ringed the valley to the towering spires of the castle perched at its tip. "I think some conversations are best left for the day. Come on, let's go."