Nine

I’m not far from Kane’s cabin when I emerge from the cover of the forest and onto a path bordered on one side by the dense tree line and the other by a deep and marshy ditch. My boots sink into the soft earth, the road’s surface churned into mud by countless horse hooves and the carved ruts of nonmotorized wheels.

“Figures,” I mumble, unfazed by the complete lack of cars as my gaze follows the path and lands on the distant city nestled around the majestic palace that dominates the horizon. Its spires reach skyward, each one crowned with shimmering golden finials that catch the light and twinkle like stars. Next to it is another tall, wide building, and this far out, it looks like the perfect sandcastle tower. “I knew it wasn’t that far.”

From behind me, Kane’s voice breaks through my grumblings. “Did you say something?”

I let out a frustrated sigh and clench my hands into fists as I pick my way around muddy puddles and jutting rocks. “Not to you.”

“Hear that, Shadow?” The horse lets out a soft blow of air. “Seems the lady isn’t talking to us.”

Shadow nickers, and I can’t help but glance over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of him affectionately patting the mare’s glossy black coat.

“Have you changed your mind? Decided to do the gentlemanly thing and give me a ride?” I toss back at him as I resume watching my footing. The tips of my boots flash from beneath the velvet hem of my dress, making only a fleeting appearance before they disappear back under the long fabric.

He shifts his weight, and the saddle creaks beneath him. “Have you changed your mind and decided to do the reasonable thing and wait for a more suitable time to storm the palace?”

“I’m not being unreasonable or storming the palace.”

“And I’m not making it easier for you to go along with this reckless scheme.”

I glance back over my shoulder at his smug grin. No longer watching where I’m going, I step in a puddle, muddy water and tiny pebbles seeping into my broken boot. “Frustrating, absolutely miserable man,” I grumble, returning to my mutterings.

“We can hear you, you know?”

Shadow snorts her agreement.

“Besides.” Kane lowers his voice to an exaggerated whisper. “I am being a gentleman, aren’t I, Shadow? Only a gentleman would protect this little fawn on her journey to the palace, knowing full well that she’ll fail and have to enact my much better strategy in the end anyway.”

“I’m ignoring you,” I singsong as I jump from one dry patch to another, awkwardly navigating the trickier sections of mud puddles and protruding rocks.

“It’s unfortunate we’re being ignored,” Kane says. “Shadow here could teach you a thing or two about traversing the terrain.”

I stop and turn to face him. “I wouldn’t need Shadow to teach me if I were up in the saddle with you,” I snap, holding my hand above my brow to shield my eyes from the sun.

He guides the mare closer. The hulking mass of rider on horseback washes over me in a cool cloud that blocks out the light. Kane leans forward and whispers into Shadow’s ear. This time, it’s something I don’t overhear. The mare tosses her head in reply, her black mane shimmering in the sunlight.

“What did you tell her?” I ask despite myself.

The corners of Kane’s mouth quirk up in a boyish smile. “Just discussing the finer points of mud walking. But don’t worry. Shadow thinks you’re doing admirably for a novice.”

“Well, thank you, Shadow. I’m glad I have your approval.” I can’t help but smile too, even though his stubbornness resulted in my shoe filling with mud. “It’s too bad I can’t get your passenger to surrender and let me ride for a little while.”

With a fluid and controlled motion that speaks of long practice, Kane smoothly swings his right leg over Shadow’s back. He lands on the ground with a soft thud, the movement as agile and effortless as a cat’s. His hand remains on the reins, although, from the looks of it, it would take a lot more than a dropped lead to tear these two apart.

“And would you like that…” he asks, closing the distance between us, “if I let you ride?”

I wheeze and stand there, lost in his dark gaze, my mouth moving but words as out of reach as my home. And, for a moment, I forget he has a blood-streaked sword on his hip.

“Although, if I were to take you for a ride, I guarantee it would be longer than a little while.”

My cheeks burn, and I want to say that I only said I was bad at sex when I thought he’d kidnapped me, but it’s no use. I’ll start drooling before I form a coherent sentence.

“Speechless?” He scrapes his calloused finger up my throat, closing my jaw. “That’s my girl.”

I hate that he has this effect on me, that he can say things that make my insides melt into gooey marshmallow. That I want him to say more. That I want him to talk to me like this with his hands on more places than my neck.

I shake my head, and with it the thoughts that make my skin hum with sweet anticipation. “Try ‘annoyed.’ And I’m not your girl. I’m nobody’s girl,” I say, reminding my rebellious body that we don’t want Kane.

Shadow grunts and nuzzles his shoulder, lipping his long hair. I shiver when he leans into her and cool air rushes through the widened gap between us.

“I think Shadow felt a bit left out.” He reaches into the saddlebag and removes a sweet-smelling hard biscuit. It’s gobbled up the second he holds it out to her, bits of oats dropping to the ground as she chomps on the treat. “She doesn’t like to share me.”

“Well, she’s in luck. I don’t plan on taking you away.” I cross my arms over my chest, strengthening the physical barrier between us. “I’ve just come out of my worst relationship in a string of terrible relationships, and I’m absolutely not going to put my heart on the line again anytime soon.” I was wrong about Chad— so wrong—and I’ve been wrong about so many others. When it comes to choosing men, I’ve got my mom’s shitty taste, and I don’t want to be wrong again. Honestly, my mental health can’t handle my being wrong again.

“We have an understanding, then,” Kane says. “No hearts are on the table available for the taking. However, I am always up for a bit of fun.”

“Fun? What happened to the risk of us being beheaded?”

“Oh,” he says, leaning closer, grinning. “I think you’ll find there’s always time for fun.”

I clear my throat in preparation for a retort that will inform him I want zero part of any fun with him, heart or otherwise, when Shadow lets out a sharp snort that makes me flinch. She stiffens on alert, her ears pricking up.

“What is it, girl? What do you see?” Kane whispers. His gaze cuts through the trees, as sharp and focused as Shadow’s.

He must see what she does because, in an instant, Kane’s demeanor shifts. He grabs my arm and pulls me and Shadow off the road and into the safety of the tree line. His hand is firm against the back of my neck as he directs me beneath the drooping boughs of a massive pine. In the other, he has hold of Shadow’s reins as she stands stiff and alert outside the cover of the branches.

“What are we doing?” I whisper, trying to peer around the tree trunk to the path.

“Stay quiet.”

My irritation builds, buzzing around me like a cloud of gnats. “Why? What are we—”

“Quiet.”

I roll my eyes and let out a grunt of frustration. I’ve been through this before with him, and it’s not a road I’m interested in going back down.

The fevered clopping of horse hooves racing closer creates a steady backdrop to the squelch of creaking wheels on wet earth. Shadow whinnies and rears up, and Kane’s hold on me loosens just enough. This is my chance. I jerk away from him and the camouflage of the tree, then dart toward the path.

Kane scrambles, reaching out in an attempt to pull me back, but I’m already in the open, struck by a new plan, my heart pounding with nervous anticipation.

“It’s a carriage,” I say as it rolls into view, curved and round as Cinderella’s fairy-tale coach and as ornately decorated. The body of the carriage glimmers a dusty silver that sparkles in the sunlight like freshly poured seltzer. The coins I took from Kane and slipped into my pocket thud against my hip as excitement lifts me onto my tiptoes. This carriage could be my own old-timey Uber ride back to the palace.

Before I can even gesture for the carriage driver to stop, two shadows blur past my periphery. I whirl around, cornered—the speeding carriage in front, the dense forest to my right, the muddy ditch at my left, and now these two ominous figures on horseback blocking my escape down the path.

The carriage driver shouts a flurry of commands I can barely make out over the horses’ frantic hoofbeats as he attempts to rein them in. But it’s too late. Terror flashes in their wide eyes, and they rear up in panic. The carriage lurches, its wheels skidding and sliding in the mud, throwing the driver from his bench. He lands hard, bouncing against the road. He’s only down for a second before he scrambles to his feet. Mud cakes his back and side as he desperately gropes for the reins, trying to calm the frenzied horses as the carriage careens off the path and crashes into the ditch.

Kane is a blur of power and speed as he sprints to my side, hooks his arm around my waist, and pulls me back into the safety of the forest. “Stay behind me.”

Through the trees, I watch as one of the men dismounts. His sandy-yellow beard matches the dark rings of sweat staining his shirt around his neck and beneath his arms. He draws a sword from the sheath on his back while his partner readies his crossbow and aims it at the two passengers spilling out of the overturned carriage and onto the road in a tangle of limbs and finery.

Kane charges out of the trees, his sword drawn in a swift motion that points to years of practice in countless battles. The bearded man rushes toward him, meeting him head-on. Their swords clash. Metal rings against metal, echoing through the forest with each furious exchange.

I move to the edge of the trees, closer to the fray, as the passengers right themselves. “Run!” I shout, beckoning them toward the safety of the tree line.

The woman clings to her partner’s arm. Her dress, a vibrant tapestry of deep blues embroidered with wavelike designs, billows around her as she rushes to gather the thick skirts. Silver bangles encircle her wrists, and a layer of necklaces cascades in a glittering waterfall down her chest. With each hurried step, her jewels jingle like sleigh bells.

Next to her, her partner grips her arm as tightly as she clings to his. He’s tall and sturdy with a chest like a barrel that jiggles beneath his tailored cobalt-blue coat. Its buttons gleam silver under the sun, and a crisp white shirt peeks out from beneath, a match to the pearlescent eye patch covering his right eye.

An arrow cuts through the air with a sharp hum. It misses its target, whizzing just behind the couple, the sharp steel biting into a tree trunk. The woman screams. She trips forward, her arms windmilling as she crashes in a heap of silk and velvet at her partner’s feet.

Startled by her scream, a highwayman’s horse bolts, and the carriage driver digs his heels into the mud to keep his horses from doing the same.

“Hurry!” I yell, my gaze darting from the couple to the man still on his horse, reloading his crossbow, and finally to Kane. He moves with a lethal grace, each strike deliberate and devastatingly effective against the aggressive, reckless swings of the highwayman’s blade.

Another arrow slices the air. This time, it hits its mark. The man with the eye patch lets out a pained cry as a violent gush of blood spurts from his chest. He sinks to his knees, and his partner wails. He reaches out. His bloodstained fingers find her, and he drags his palm down her arm, leaving behind a shining smear of scarlet against her doe-brown skin as he falls face-first into the mud.

She’s frozen, a soundless scream pulling at her face, stretching her flesh taut over sharp cheekbones.

“Get up!” The command tears from my throat, raw and desperate. I clench my fists, my nails carving crescents into my palms. Every fiber of my being screams to dash forward, to drag her to the safety of the trees, but I’m rooted to the spot, frozen in fear.

My gaze snaps to Kane as he dodges another of his opponent’s wild swings. He retaliates with a swift upward jab of his sword, striking him in the gut. Kane thrusts the blade deeper, and the bearded man lets out a final wet groan before going slack.

I take a breath to call for his help when a third arrow is loosed. It zips by, loud as a thousand angry hornets and just as deadly. The sharp point finds a home in the woman’s neck, burrowing straight through and emerging in a spray of blood out the other side. With a sickening thwack , she joins her partner in the mud.

I clamp my hand over my mouth and swallow my scream. There’s no time for terror. Not yet. I’m not safe.

Seizing his chance, the carriage driver makes a desperate dash toward me. He slips and slides in the mud. This time, I don’t stand by and watch the worst happen. I dart from the cover of the trees and grab him when he stumbles. He grasps my arm, using my body as a rope to scramble to his feet. Together, we rush back into the forest.

Kane’s determined stride eats up the earth, his heavy footsteps splattering mud as he targets the mounted archer. With a warrior’s cry, he lunges at the man on horseback. Kane grabs the archer’s leg and rips him from the saddle. His horse rears up, and its hooves beat the air as it whinnies and bolts off down the path. The archer smacks into the ground, a discarded puppet cut from its strings. Kane wastes no time. With one decisive motion, he plunges his sword into the man’s chest, ending the threat once and for all.

The aftermath is a surreal quiet. The forest seems to hold its breath as blood drips from the deadly point of Kane’s sword. Each splatter is a crimson reminder that this world is not my own.

Kane’s broad shoulders lift and fall with measured breaths as he turns to the trees. Finding me within the cover of the pines, his eyes lock onto mine, his gaze black and endless and lost as stars behind the clouds.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice the eye of the storm.

I flick my gaze from his, unable to hold the intensity of his concern, of what he’s just done. I take a few steps out of the tree line. “Nothing a few years of therapy won’t fix,” I deflect, my attempt at humor sounding brittle and forced even to my own ears.

Kane sheaths his sword, and his attention shifts to the carriage resting on its side in the ditch. One wheel creaks in a lazy spin. Its gilded spokes and iron rims are coated in a spray of mud.

My eyes can’t help but drift to the lifeless bodies of the couple in the road. Before Towerfall, before Kane, the only dead bodies I’d seen were on TV. Sorrow hardens in the back of my throat.

“Who were they?” I ask as I approach Kane, my voice barely rising above the whisper of the wind through the trees.

A twig snaps and the trees rustle. On edge, I spin around. The driver emerges from hiding, Shadow’s reins in hand. “That would be the newly appointed ambassador from the Kingdom of Cups and his wife.” He clears his throat and lowers his head. “May they rest in peace.”

“They must have traveled for at least two days to get here,” Kane says. “Although I don’t know why an ambassador from Cups would want to make such a trip.”

“Trade.” The driver lifts a thin shoulder. “That’s what I overheard. Lord Ashwood was to arrange trade between the kingdoms. And now he’s dead… they’re dead…murdered.”

“If handled poorly, this could start a war.” Kane’s expression hardens, and the sharp line of his jaw pulses with each clench of his teeth. “There is no one else in your party?”

The driver shakes his head, twisting Shadow’s reins around his fingers.

“What’s your name?” I ask, placing my hand on his.

“Briggs, miss.” He sweeps his copper curls from his forehead.

“It’s nice to meet you, Briggs.” I smile. “Although I wish it were under different circumstances.”

“Agreed, miss.” His warm brown eyes find mine, and he smiles the wobbly smile of a timid teen. “What’s to be done now? I can’t arrive at the palace alone. I can’t leave the horses… the carriage… And you said this could start a war between the kingdoms.” The color drains from his pale cheeks, and he takes a dazed and shaky step back.

Kane is there to take Shadow’s reins and steady Briggs before he falters. “We will deal with the issues one by one. First, we must right the carriage and get it hidden in the trees. We can’t run the risk of being seen. Not without the proper story.” He steps away from the young driver, his arm still extended to catch him if he falls. “Can I count on your help with whatever may come of this?”

Briggs nods. “Of course. If you hadn’t been here…” He rubs his still-trembling hands together, his gaze wandering to the bodies in the mud.

“We will make this right.” Kane claps him on the back.

I take Shadow’s reins before he moves to the vehicle, Briggs on his heels. The mare rambles up next to me. She nudges my shoulder and blows an exasperated sigh through my tangled hair.

“I know, Shadow,” I say and sweep the frizzy mass over my shoulder. “The past few days have been a lot .”

Mud splatters as Kane jumps into the ditch. “Control the horses. On my signal, have them pull the carriage forward,” he instructs, motioning up at Briggs while positioning himself at the rear of the carriage.

Briggs jogs to the horses. He smooths his hand along each of their sides and collects the reins. “Ready,” he calls once he’s in position.

Kane braces himself against the carriage. His sweat-dampened tunic clings to his body, outlining the swell of thick muscle beneath. I bite my lower lip as he pushes against the carriage and his muscles tense, flexing under the strain. Beads of sweat gloss down his face and arms, and he wipes his brow before adjusting his hold on the carriage.

Next to me, Shadow snorts, and I startle.

“What?” I clear my throat, getting control of my steadily increasing pulse. “Like I said, you won’t have to share him. It’s just hot out here.” I fan myself with my free hand to keep up the lie.

Kane pushes against the carriage, a grunt of exertion rumbling through his bared teeth. Bit by bit, it begins to shift, creaking and groaning under its own weight.

“Move!” he shouts up to Briggs, who guides the horses forward.

With a final push from Kane and pull from the horses, the carriage emerges from the ditch and crashes back onto all four wheels.

Up close, it’s even more beautiful. Adorning its sides are chalices carved into the gleaming silver-painted wood. Splashes of glittering cerulean pour from each cup, encircling the door, and combining into a frothy white-tipped wave above it.

Shadow follows me as I move closer and run my fingers along the deep-blue sapphires and crystal clear diamonds inlaid within the carved waves. The carriage’s windows are framed with ornate turquoise trim, and the curtains snagged on shards of broken glass are the same shimmering silver as the exterior.

As I round the carriage and Kane climbs out of the ditch, making his way over to Shadow, my gaze is snared by a glint of glimmering slate a few yards away in the muddy trench, detached from the carriage during the attack.

I pass the reins to Kane, and he murmurs to the mare and rubs her soft nose. Hiking up the end of my dress, I walk to the ditch. The trunk’s silver handle catches the light, sparkling up from the mud. I squat near the edge of the ditch and reach for it. I strain as I grab the handle and pull. The trunk is heavier than it looks, and I struggle to keep my balance while trying not to muddy my dress any more than I already have.

“Allow me, miss.” Briggs rushes over and, with a polite nod, exchanges places with me.

“Hannah,” I offer as he drags the trunk up the embankment and onto the road. “Call me ‘Hannah.’”

His freckled cheeks pinken as he turns to face me, his gaze quickly dropping to his feet. “Anything else, miss?”

“Hannah,” I say again. “And no, you’ve helped so much already. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I owe you my life. Both of you.” He nods toward Kane, who’s busy with Shadow as I bend to examine the trunk.

I wipe away the layer of mud around the latch, broken from the wreck. The wood matches the carriage—gleaming silver and encrusted in a glittering powder of sapphires and diamonds. The same cresting, white-tipped waves trace its edges, the water pouring from a single cup carved into the lid.

“If you don’t mind me asking, miss,” Briggs continues, “which kingdom have you traveled from? I haven’t heard an accent like yours before.”

“I’m from the, um, north?” I cough to get Kane’s attention and hope that lifting my brows nearly to my hairline is enough for him to come rescue me…again.

“Whereabout north?” Briggs asks. “The Kingdom of Wands…or…or Swords?”

With a creak of its hinges, I throw open the lid to the unlatched trunk, hoping to distract Briggs from asking any more questions. “Would you look at that?”

His attention drifts to the pristinely folded velvets, silks, and lace within, all hues of rich blues and moonlit silvers.

Briggs stuffs his mud-caked hands into his pockets as if controlling his compulsion to reach out and touch. “I’ve never seen so many fine garments all in one place.”

I should follow Briggs’s lead and keep my hands to myself, but I don’t. Instead, I wipe them on my dress, because it’s honestly already destroyed and absolutely pales in comparison to what’s inside the trunk, and dig my hands into the cool silk.

My fingers brush against a folded piece of parchment nestled among the luxurious attire. The golden pentacle pressed into the wax seal is already broken, bits of it crumbling away as I carefully unfold the cream-colored paper.

“It’s an invitation,” I say to Kane as he strides over, Shadow not far behind, before I read the elegant script aloud.

The Kingdom of Pentacles cordially invites Lord and Lady Ashwood, the Esteemed Ambassadors of Cups, to a Grand Feast in honor of our great Kingdoms. To take place on the evening of the Full Moon as the Second Star appears.

May the bonds between our lands grow ever stronger,

King Alderic Lockhart III of Pentacles

My heart races as a shiny, brand-new plan forms in my mind. It’s bold and reckless, but brand management has taught me the importance of pulling out all the stops and getting ahead of trends for maximum impact.

“This is it.” I turn to Kane, holding the invitation up like a prize. “This is our way into the palace.”

The carriage creaks as the restless horses stomp and grunt. Briggs casts a worried glance in their direction and jogs to their side. He calms the horses, his soothing murmurs floating to us.

“Your plan is to impersonate nobility?” Kane cocks his chin, and Shadow snorts her disagreement.

“You said yourself that Four speaks for the king and has made sure only those he’s approved can gain entry. He approved the ambassador and his wife. What better way to get inside than to pretend we were invited?”

“This risk doesn’t come without consequences.”

“There are consequences to being left in a world that’s not mine. Kane, I’ve almost died more times in the past few days than the rest of my life combined. And you—you’ve been great. For the most part. Well, kind of.”

Kane frowns, and the line between his brows deepens as he clenches and unclenches his jaw.

“And this has been…different from what I normally do and definitely isn’t something I want to repeat.” I pause, gaining control of my thoughts before I blurt out more irrelevant information. “I need to get the Empress, and you need to stop Four. Think about it. We’ll crash the feast. I’ll get my purse and my way back home. You’ll…I don’t know…do whatever it is you’re going to do. In and out. It’ll be simple.” I draw in a deep breath to steady my racing heart. “But I can’t do it without you. I need a Lord Ashwood.”

Shadow nickers and rubs her whiskered muzzle against Kane, her breath stirring his hair.

“See? Even Shadow knows it’ll work. And Briggs will help us. Won’t you, Briggs?” I call to the redhead who’s done a terrible job of pretending not to eavesdrop.

“Of course, miss. I owe you and Sir Kane a life debt.” He frowns. “But you must look the part.”

I glance down at the splatters of mud painting my dress like a Jackson Pollock. I 100 percent get what Briggs means.

With the toe of my boot, I nudge the trunk overflowing with garments fit for nobility. “Dressing the part won’t be an issue.” My gaze lifts to meet Kane and his shoulder-length black waves that make him look as dark and disheveled as Loki.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He stiffens and takes a step back. “I don’t like it.”

A playful smile tugs at my lips. “Let the makeover montage begin.”