Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

NYRA

The heavy thuds reverberated through the walls, making my head ache. I groaned and grabbed a pillow, pressing it over my ears in a futile attempt to drown out the noise.

I had barely slept the night before, my mind racing with thoughts of Dacre and the conflicting emotions that surged within me.

I was more irritated by the fact that I somehow continued to forget how much of a jerk he was until he proved it to me over and over.

But when I closed my eyes, it was his father I saw with his hand still wrapped around my neck, so I forced them open and let my thoughts linger back to him.

They always found their way back to him.

“Wren,” I called her name, but she didn’t move an inch at the sound.

The knocking hadn’t stopped.

I tossed my pillow aside and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The room was dimly lit by the single firelight lantern outside our window, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

I wrapped my arms around myself to stave off the cold air as chill bumps formed on my skin.

I stumbled toward the door and jerked it open to stop the insistent knocking.

Dacre’s hand was held in midair, and I scowled. It was far too early in the morning to be dealing with him.

I leaned against the doorframe and caught his stormy eyes taking in my wrinkled shirt all the way down to my bare feet. He raised an eyebrow in disapproval. “Do you always answer your door like this?”

“What?” I breathed out and motioned toward the window. “I’m going to assume that the sun hasn’t yet risen since the firelight is still dim. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to fix my hair before answering the door.”

“I’m not talking about your hair.” His gaze fell to my legs and lingered there for far too long.

Heat flushed my cheeks, and I dropped my hands and tugged at the edge of my shirt that barely reached mid-thigh. “Well, I wasn’t expecting visitors,” I snapped, my irritation getting the best of me.

When he didn’t answer and his gaze still hadn’t left my bare thighs, I huffed. “Is there something you need, or can I go back to bed?”

“You don’t get the luxury of sleeping in when your training is going so poorly.”

“You’re such an ass.”

His gaze finally snapped up to meet mine. “So you’ve told me.”

“I believe I also told you that I will find someone else to train me.”

He braced himself against the doorframe, but he didn’t let his gaze waver from me. “And how is that going for you?”

“Wren’s going to train me.”

“No. She isn’t.” His voice was low and dangerously calm, an ominous tone that sent a shiver down my spine. “Get dressed and meet me on the training grounds. We’re starting in ten.”

He didn’t wait for me to respond. He simply turned away and headed down the hall as if I wouldn’t dare disobey him.

I watched him walk away, my fists clenched at my sides as he did so. The audacity of him, thinking he could control every aspect of my life.

I had already lived that life with my father, and I had escaped it.

While Dacre hadn’t shown me the same cruelty as my father, I was still caged here. I was still under someone else’s control.

I closed the door and soundlessly dressed as my anger continued to build. Wren didn’t so much as change her breathing as I tugged on my boots and slid my dagger into its sheath.

When I reached the training room, Dacre was already there in the dimly lit room, his arms crossed and a bored look on his face. My blood boiled at the sight of him, but instead of letting my anger consume me, I took a deep breath and forced myself to remain calm.

“Finally.” His voice dripped with arrogance as he pushed off the wall.

“There’s no one else here.” I arched an eyebrow, not bothering to hide my annoyance. “It’s still dark.”

“We’re not training here,” he replied without looking at me.

He moved farther into the cave where an assortment of weapons were stacked against the wall, and I followed him.

“What?”

Dacre grabbed a bow and held it out in my direction. I took it before I could think better of it.

“You’re too slow with a dagger and hand to hand. If you’re going to benefit this rebellion in any way, then I need to give you a fighting chance.”

If I was going to benefit the rebellion. Not survive it.

My neck was still sore from his father’s hand, and I knew that he couldn’t see past the bruises when he looked at me.

“Take off the vest and tuck your dagger into your waistband.”

“What?” I looked at him and for the first time noticed that he wasn’t wearing his vest or the usual array of weapons that he normally kept on him.

He looked so normal.

“Can you just do what I ask for once without questioning me?” he grumbled as he continued to look through the weapons.

“Of course.” I slid my vest over my head before pulling out my dagger and tucking it into the back of my trousers as he instructed. I felt bare without the now familiar weight of my vest on my chest, but I pulled the bow over my shoulder, the string stretching to my hip, and took a deep breath.

The weight of the weapon felt foreign against my back, but I met Dacre’s intense gaze head-on.

Dacre walked over to a stack of arrows and selected one, examining it carefully before placing it inside the quiver with several more. “The bow requires patience and precision, but it can buy you time more than almost any other weapon.”

I nodded even though I was sure I would be as terrible with a bow as I was a dagger. I ran my fingers across the thick string at my chest. It seemed so simple yet so intricate.

Dacre lifted the quiver over his shoulder before he waved me forward, deeper into the cave. It was the same direction his father had taken us the day before.

The memory made a chill run down my spine. I felt more secure down here. I felt safer in the hidden city of my enemy than I did up on the land I had known my entire life.

“Have you ever shot before?” Dacre asked, breaking me out of my reverie.

“I’ve never even held a bow before,” I admitted, feeling a flicker of embarrassment wash over me.

He sighed heavily, as if my answer was an inconvenience to him.

The air grew colder and more damp as we descended into the depths, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the walls. Dacre led me to a secluded area, where a single beam of light filtered in through a crack in the ceiling, casting a soft glow on the ground.

“Are we going up?” I asked, and I couldn’t hide the shakiness of my voice.

“We are.” Dacre turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “We can get much better practice up there than we can down here.”

He climbed up onto a large rock before reaching his hand out for me. I ignored it, and instead, tucked my fingers into the groove where I had just seen him do moments before.

I hoisted myself up onto the rock and there was a twinge of pain in my arm. Dacre had healed it to the point that the injury was almost completely unnoticeable, but there was still a soft ache that wouldn’t let me forget what happened yesterday.

It had put a steady fear in my chest I couldn’t get to go away.

As I climbed up next to him, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything pressing down on me. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind, and focused on Dacre’s instructions as he pushed open the rock in the ceiling and pulled himself up.

I tried to do exactly as he just did, but my body wouldn’t allow me the strength to do so. Dacre reached down, careful of my injuries, and pulled me up. I blinked over and over as the light of the rising sun blinded me.

Dacre moved the rock back in place before making sure it was covered once again with moss and leaves until it was almost impossible to spot.

We were at the edge of the forest, and I could smell the deep saltiness of the sea just beyond us.

My heart raced as I stood in the sunlight, taking in our surroundings. We were so close to the kingdom, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of urgency to move.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I toyed with the string of the bow that was still strapped over my back.

“Here.” He lifted a dark cloak and tossed it in my direction, which I barely managed to catch. “We need to head to the bridge first, then we’re going to the coast.”

“The bridge?” I squeaked out as anxiety soared inside me.

I hadn’t been back there since the day I was caught.

“Yes.” He nodded as he lifted his own cloak and quickly pulled it on. “It’s the only way to get to the coast, and I have something that needs to be delivered.” He patted his chest absently.

I quickly pulled on the cloak, tucking my hair beneath the fabric as I tried to quell the nausea that rolled through my stomach.

“Let’s go.” He pulled his cloak tighter around him, and I followed closely behind him.

He easily guided us through the forest, even as I tripped over roots, and the sound of sticks snapping under my feet echoed around us.

Dacre’s gaze swept over the forest as we moved, never relaxing for even a moment, and my legs felt weak.

By the time we made it just outside the city, the sun was sitting high in the sky.

We climbed up the hill that kept the city separated from everything beyond, and every step felt worse than the one before.

I shouldn’t do this.

We stepped into one of the alleys, and I let my gaze roam over the people who milled about. Some of them familiar, while others looked like complete strangers.

Dacre navigated the side streets effortlessly, and it only took us a few moments before I could see the palace looming in the distance.

I could see the girl I had once been. I looked up at the castle, and I could still hear my mother’s voice as she told me tales of our kingdom from my bedroom window.

They hadn’t let me go to the bridge then. I hadn’t been able to leave the castle grounds at all, and I used to imagine exactly what the bridge would be like.

My mother’s stories had been the only thing I had.

But her stories were nothing but fables that she told to a girl who was desperate for freedom.

I forced myself to take a deep breath, reminding myself of what was at stake as we approached the bridge. Clutching my bow string tightly, I took a step forward, and my foot landed on the first paver.

The hustle and bustle of the bridge was loud and imposing, but we walked in silence as Dacre maneuvered us through the merchants and finely dressed members of the kingdom who had risen with the early morning sun to make their deals.

The roar of the waterfall was almost deafening, and oddly, it brought me a sense of peace.

I couldn’t help but glance over at Dacre, trying to read his expression, but he was staring forward, his gaze scanning the crowd for whoever he was looking for.

We made our way through the throngs of people, each step harder than the last as we passed the front gate of the castle. There were four guards stationed out front, and Dacre avoided going anywhere near them as we crossed their path.

My heart thudded in my chest as I noticed the tension in Dacre’s shoulders. He clearly didn’t like being this close to the palace either.

As we weaved our way through the crowd, I couldn’t help but notice the faces of the people around us. Some of them I recognized from my time on the bridge, others from the palace itself. I tightened my hold on my cloak and pulled it around me.

“Are you okay?” Dacre asked so quietly I barely heard him, but there was concern etching the lines around his eyes.

“I’m fine,” I replied with the lie. I was so far from fine.

I glanced around nervously, trying to keep my tension from showing as Dacre navigated us toward the other side of the bridge.

We walked toward a merchant who had a plethora of pastries and warm breads on his cart, and my mouth watered. I recognized the man because he had been one that I had stolen from a few times.

He was one who let me get away when I knew I wasn’t a good enough thief to do so.

“Two peach pastries, please.” Dacre spoke before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin and a folded-up piece of parchment.

He reached forward, sliding both into the merchant’s hand. The merchant’s eyes didn’t widen, and his hand didn’t stutter as he pocketed both items.

He was expecting us.

“Of course,” he muttered, looking to Dacre and then to me. He reached for the pastries, wrapping them tightly in paper before he handed one to each of us.

I hesitantly took it, holding it close to my chest, as I noticed Dacre’s fingers mess with the paper on the back of his pastry and almost unnoticeably pull another piece of parchment from beneath.

“Thank you, sir.” Dacre nodded once before leading us away.

We continued down the bridge as if nothing had happened. A young boy ran past Dacre, something cradled between his hands, and his shoulder slammed into mine as he passed.

The collision knocked the breath from my lungs, and I stumbled backward. Dacre didn’t even flinch as he reached out and steadied me.

“Sorry!” the boy yelled, his eyes wide as he rushed through the crowd.

Dacre’s hold on me tightened, and he pulled me behind him as two guards passed by us quickly. They were searching the crowd, no doubt on the hunt for the boy who had just stolen something, but that boy had disappeared into the shadows as if he had never been there.

That was what a life of hunger gave you.

Dacre kept my hand in his as he pulled us through the crowd until we reached the far end of the bridge. As we reached it, I could feel the harsh breeze coming off the waterfall beneath.

The stones changed from the rich pavers of the bridge to the old dusty cobblestone that ran through the streets. We were just about to step over that threshold when Dacre stopped so suddenly that my chest slammed into his back.

“What are you doing?” I whisper-shouted at him, but he didn’t turn to look at me. Instead, he was staring straight ahead at the two guards that were talking and laughing at the edge of the bridge.

They didn’t seem to notice our presence at first, but Dacre still wasn’t moving. He was just staring ahead at them, only a couple feet from us, and he looked like he had seen a ghost.

“Dacre,” I whispered his name and dug my fingers into his arm, but he still didn’t move.

Both of the guards seemed to notice us then, when people moving about the bridge had to shift around us, and the alertness that crept up their faces reminded me of a snake waiting to strike.

“Papers.” One of the guards, the bulky one whose uniform was wrinkled and soiled down the front from whatever he had been eating, stepped forward and held his hand out in our direction.

But Dacre didn’t look away from the second guard.

He was wearing the same uniform as his partner, a uniform that represented their king, my father, but his was unblemished and immaculate, as though he had just left the castle gates.

He stood up straighter when Dacre refused to look away from him and answer the guard who was speaking to us.

“Do you have your papers?” the guard demanded again, and I moved to Dacre’s side, tucking myself beneath his cloak and wrapping my hands around his middle.

I was invading his space, but I couldn’t bring myself to care in that moment.

I dug my fingers into his shirt, trying to pull his attention to me, but he was frozen. His jaw bulged, the muscles taut beneath his skin, and his dark eyes looked hollow.

“Dacre.” I lifted my right hand and pressed it against his cheek, my fingers tucking around the back of his neck, and I pulled his head down until he was forced to look at me.

He blinked rapidly when his gaze hit mine as if he had just realized that I was standing beside him, that I was this close. “Do you have our papers?” I asked cautiously, and my pulse hammered so hard that I was certain he could see the movement in my neck.

He blinked again, and I watched his throat as he swallowed. “Of course.”

He reached into his pocket, and I started to back away from him slightly, but his other arm shot out around my waist and his fingers latched on to my hip as he pulled me impossibly closer to him.

I pressed my hand against his chest as I tried to hold myself steady.

Dacre handed two pieces of folded documents over to the bulky guard, and as soon as he opened them, I instantly recognized the black Great Seal of the Crown.

It was almost impossible to replicate the details of the seal, which meant that these documents were stolen.

“Mr. and Mrs. Harlow,” the guard read from the papers, then glanced up at us. “Where are you headed?” He seemed to take us in fully then, his gaze roaming over our clothing along with our faces, and my stomach clenched violently.

If he knew who I was, they would take me back.

Dacre would have no chance of protecting me. Not this close to the bridge.

Even if he dared.

My hands began to tremble, and Dacre reached for my hand that was resting on his chest and lifted it to his mouth for a brief kiss before he spoke.

He kept my hand in his, no doubt, to keep the guard from seeing how nervous I was.

“We’re heading down to the sea.” Dacre pulled a fishing net from behind his back that I hadn’t noticed before. It was tucked into the belt of his trousers, and it looked well used. “I have the papers for my license to fish as well, if you need those.”

The guard held up his hand to stop Dacre as he started rummaging through his pocket. “That won’t be necessary. Get on your way and stop blocking the bridge.”

“Yes, sir.” Dacre took the papers back from the guard before I noticed his gaze slip back to the other guard for only a second. His body was completely rigid against me, ready for a fight, and I gripped his hand tightly in mine as I began leading us forward.

We made our way off the bridge, and I sighed in relief as I felt the rough cobblestones beneath my feet. Dacre’s grip on my hand didn’t falter as we moved through the crowded street and neither did the stiffness in his body.

“Are you alright?” I whispered when we were far enough away from the bridge, trying not to attract attention.

He nodded, but the movement was rigid and his jaw was clenched so tightly I worried that his teeth had to ache.

We continued along the cobblestone streets, the wind from the waterfall growing weaker the farther we got from the bridge. Dacre turned us down side streets and small alleyways until we reached the back of an older home that was built of red bricks and covered in years of dirt and overgrown weeds.

The home which I had slept behind for months with my friend.

“What are we doing?” I tried to pull my hand from his as my unease seemed to creep higher, but he held firm. I looked around, searching for any signs of Micah.

But there were none.

“One more stop.” He lifted his other hand and knocked against the back door three times.

The door opened almost instantly, and a woman with white hair and a deeply lined face stood there staring at us.

“You brought them,” she said, her voice giving nothing away.

Dacre let go of my hand and stepped forward. “I didn’t have a choice.”

She nodded, stepping aside to let us in. “Neither did she.”

As we stepped into the dark hallway, the smell of musty old books and stale air hit me, making me feel claustrophobic. I looked back at Dacre as he closed the door behind us, his eyes still fixed on the old woman.

I wanted to ask him where we were, my body was begging me to run from this place, but there was something that stopped me. Dacre had looked over at me and his gaze held mine, unwavering and intense, silently begging me to trust him. Something he would never say with his words, and I hated that I did so, so easily.

As we stepped deeper into the dimly lit house, the walls seemed to close in on us, and I couldn’t shake the chill that was running up my spine. The air grew warmer, and the scent of decaying wood and dust overwhelmed my senses.

We were led into a small room with a single window that looked out onto the overgrown garden outside. The woman seated herself at a rickety wooden table, where a candle burned weakly, casting eerie shadows on the dusty, cluttered surroundings.

Dacre released a deep sigh and followed suit, but I remained standing by the window. I pressed my hand against the small of my back, feeling the dagger there, and the deep grooves of the handle brought me the tiniest bit of comfort that I needed.

The woman was watching Dacre carefully, almost reverently, and I glanced away as I felt like I was intruding. There were so many things to look at throughout the room. The small bookshelves were chock full of trinkets, books, and photos. But there was one frame at the very top of the shelf that drew my attention.

It was a photo of a young girl, black hair blowing around her face as she laughed, but it was her eyes that caught my attention. She had the exact same eyes as Dacre.

“You look familiar to me, girl,” the crone said from across the table, and when I turned back to look at her, she was assessing me with narrowed eyes.

I swallowed, searching for a response, but none came.

“She’s one of the new recruits,” Dacre answered as he leaned back in his chair, a loud creak echoing throughout the room.

The woman’s eyes scanned my entire body, her gaze seeing right through my disguise that I wore so carefully. I felt exposed and vulnerable as she watched me.

“What’s your name?” she asked, and there was no smile on her face as she studied me.

Dacre shifted in his chair, but he didn’t turn to face me.

“Nyra,” I answered her and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Like the former queen?” she asked, and her eyes only seemed to narrow further.

No one ever called my mother by her name.

“Exactly. I was named after her. My mother was quite fond of the former queen.”

Lies. Lies piled on top of more lies.

She nodded her head slowly, but his gaze lingered on me.

“Nyra used to work in the palace.” Dacre pulled another piece of parchment from his pocket, and for a moment, I wondered how he was able to keep them all straight.

“And how did you get out?” She cocked her head, studying me even more carefully than before.

“I ran.” I shifted on my feet. “I ran during the chaos of the raid.” I was honest, and that honesty cost me as memories of that day flooded me.

Dacre’s shoulders stiffened as I spoke.

“Were you hurt that day?” she asked, and even though the woman didn’t trust me, there was concern clouding her eyes.

Was I hurt? Gods, I couldn’t think of that day without pain slicing through my chest.

“It doesn’t matter.” I shook my head and let my gaze flick back to the photo of the woman. “All I cared about was getting out of that palace.”

“Well, Nyra.” She said my name as if it didn’t belong to me. “I’m glad that you made it out alive. Many don’t.”

I nodded, and more memories flooded me. Memories that I couldn’t allow.

“I’m glad you made it to this one.” She nodded her head toward Dacre. “My grandson will rule this entire kingdom one day.”

She said the statement with such confidence, and when I turned back to face her, I didn’t see a shred of doubt in her gaze.

Dacre’s face twisted into something between pain and honor at her words, and his hand clenched around the parchment, crumpling it slightly.

“Were you able to get the information we need?” Dacre’s tone was serious and cut to the point of why he was here.

A point that I had been left out of completely.

“I got what I could.” His grandmother turned around, her chair creaking under her small frame, and she opened a drawer from the wooden hutch behind her.

“Remember, my boy,” she said with a sternness in her voice that made my eyes widen. “Davian isn’t to see.”

My attention snapped to her at her words, but Dacre simply nodded as he tucked the papers into his pocket.

He was doing something behind his father’s back?

“What happened to your neck?” She pointed a finger at me, but I was still thinking about what she had just said.

“I’m not very good in a fight.”

She studied me far too intensely before she replied, “I don’t think that’s true.”

I shifted uncomfortably under her penetrating gaze.

Dacre cleared his throat, breaking the intensity of the moment. “We should get going,” he said, his voice strained. “We don’t have much time.”

“You remind me of her.” She nodded to the woman in the picture frame. “My Camilla.”

Dacre went rigid at the mention of her name. His eyes flickered with a mix of pain and longing as he turned and stared at the photograph.

“She made many sacrifices for the people she loved. Like you.”

“I’ve not made any sacrifices.”

“Haven’t you?”

She stood and groaned as she held on to the table for support. She moved next to me and looked out her back window.

“The boy you used to stay with.” She nodded to the back of her house. “I haven’t seen him in days.”

“What?” I whipped my head around so quickly to face her.

“He was still staying there after you’d gone, but it’s been days since his return.”

“What do you mean he hasn’t returned?” I demanded, my voice trembling with worry.

The woman’s gaze remained fixed on the garden outside. “Did he know?”

“Know what?” I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.

She turned to look at me, her dark eyes staring into mine for a long moment. She didn’t say anything. She just stared, and I felt completely bare before her.

Did she know who I was?

My fingers felt numb as I clenched them at my sides. I didn’t dare look at Dacre, but I could feel him watching us.

I gave my head the tiniest shake, and I didn’t know why I did it. I didn’t know this woman; I didn’t owe her anything.

But by the way she was staring at me, I felt like she knew me.

The real me.

The lost princess of Marmoris.

Micah told me that was what they had called the princess for years as no one in the kingdom had seen her since she was little—seen me.

And I guessed I had been lost.

I slid my gaze over to Dacre and sucked in a ragged breath. He was watching me carefully, too carefully, and I was suffocating under their scrutiny.

“We need to go. We’ve risked too much time here already.”

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. Dacre was right. We couldn’t afford to stay any longer.

I forced myself to tear my gaze away from Dacre and focus on the woman once more. Her eyes were still fixed on me, eyes narrowed as she cocked her head.

“If he returns, will you tell him that I’m alright?” I didn’t want to think about him not returning. Was he arrested for thieving? Was he killed?

Dread washed over me, threatening to consume me whole.

“I will tell him that I saw you, but I don’t know that you’re alright.” Her gaze trailed down to my neck, and I swallowed.

“Then lie,” I demanded of her, and a small smile formed on her lips.

“As you wish.” She suddenly dipped her head into a bow, her hair falling in her face, and I couldn’t help but be taken aback by the unexpected motion.

I jerked backward, my back hitting the bookshelf behind me, and I looked to Dacre.

“We should go.”

He nodded, moving forward and placing a brief kiss to his grandmother’s head before he led me from the room.

I glanced back at the woman who was still watching me carefully.

“Be careful, Dacre. More now than ever.” He huffed out a response, but the woman’s gaze was still glued to me. “And, Nyra, stay with my grandson.”