Promising Light (17 page)

“As an apology,” Dar
said.

The prince touched Grace’s shoulder
lightly. “Did you eat?”

“Yes,” Grace said with a
nod.

“Let’s start moving, then.” He
glanced around the forest. “I don’t like it here. Sir Dar, you’ll
follow with Grace’s things?”

Dar inclined his head. “Yes, your
Highness.”

Prince William led Grace to one of
the carriages; Grace met Dar’s eyes for just a moment before she
got in, and she thought of all that had happened last night. She
didn’t want this distance between them, but neither of them had
much of a choice.

The prince got in after her,
sitting across from her. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Thank you for coming, your
Highness.”

“William,” he said, meeting her
eyes.

“Right, I forgot,” Grace said. His
request while they’d played piano seemed so long ago. “William,”
she tested the name on her lips.

The carriage began moving, and
Prince William leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees.
“What happened? What did they tell you?”

Grace told him about nearly
everything. Some things she left out, like the images she’d seen
and the real reason they gave her gifts, and, of course, her night
with Dar. He watched intently, only occasionally asking
questions.

When she was finished, he said,
“And you know that Sierra and Lady Sashe were already pulled into
it once?”

“Yes, Dar told me.”

He let out a huff of air.
“Dar?”

Grace nodded, looking out the
carriage window at the passing trees. Perhaps she should have said
it was someone else.

“What does he think about the
prophecy?” Prince William asked.

“He doesn’t believe it, of course.
I guess Sierra and Sashe were like sisters to him, so I understand
why he’d be reluctant to believe Lisbeth after she nearly got them
killed.”

The prince leaned back in his seat.
“I know about your relationship with him.”

Grace looked at him with genuine
surprise. Although she knew from his conversation with Dar, she’d
never thought he’d tell her.

“I sent the man to the Boar’s
Bar,” Prince William said.

Grace tried to look embarrassed,
fidgeting with her hands. “Your high—William…” she trailed off. She
considered what to say: pretend she was grateful, try to defend
herself? “Please don’t tell my father.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Tell him
what?”

“About any of this. I don’t want
him to worry about me.”

“I’ve already told him, of
course,” William said. “I sent the fastest messengers I had as soon
as we realized you were gone.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep
breath. “Did you tell him about Dar and I?”

“Not yet. Is there a reason I
shouldn’t?”

Her eyes shot open, and she
frowned. “I don’t want him to hurt Dar.”

“Ah,” William said, his face
darkening. “Do you still have feelings for him?”

Her face flushed, and she hoped he
didn’t notice. “Of course not. We made a deal never to see each
other again. What we had… was playful romance. It was foolish, but
it wasn’t serious. I don’t want my father to hold that against
him.”

“He never should have touched
you,” William said, raising his voice.

“Don’t blame it just on him.” Her
cheeks grew even warmer. She couldn’t imagine how the prince
respond if he knew about last night and all the places Dar had
touched her. “We were both involved. But please, I’ve realized my
mistake. I’m leaving him behind. But Dar did a lot coming to
bargain for my release, and I think he should be honored for
that.”

“Honored by covering up his
wrongdoings?”

Grace clenched her hands into fists
in her lap. “If Dar hadn’t come for me, you wouldn’t have been able
to get them to release me without bloodshed.”

“If you’re so grateful, why don’t
you stay with him and try to break the curse?”

“All I’m asking is that you
protect him by not telling my father. Why is that so much to ask?”
She felt a sudden urge of fear at a new possibility. “Were you
planning on telling him?”

“Of course, you’re his daughter,
and he’s a Protector. He’ll find out eventually.”

“Unless you make sure he doesn’t.”
She leaned forward. “You’re the prince, you can keep it from
him.”

His voice lowered, and he stared
out the window. “I don’t have as much control over the Protectors
as you may think. They’re a different class of people. I don’t know
how they’re going to retaliate to your kidnapping.”

Grace frowned, thinking of the
people she’d left behind at the castle, full of hope and ignorant
to her true plans. “Retaliate? They made a mistake.”

“They kidnapped a woman of the
court.”

“They didn’t hurt me and they gave
me plenty of gifts as a hope for reconciliation.”

William’s jaw twitched. “Why are
you on their side?”

“I’m not!” she said, raising her
voice. “But I’m not on the Protectors side, either! I was pulled
into this and I’m not going to choose who is right or wrong.”
Though it seemed fairly clear to her, she wasn’t going to tell the
prince that. “But I know how my father will react, and I don’t
think Dar deserves that kind of punishment when he just rescued me
from his family without any bloodshed.” She tilted her head.
“Unless you’d like to take me back there?”

“Of course not.” His voice was
fierce. He paused. “I would have found you without Dar.”

“I know.” She tried to soften her
voice. “I know, and I’m very grateful you came for me. The entire
time, I knew you would be there soon. But it was easier with Dar,
wasn’t it? None of the Protectors had to get hurt, and you didn’t
anger any shape changers.”

William let out an angry
sigh.

“Just please don’t tell my father
about my mistakes with him,” Grace reached out and touched the
prince’s knee. “I don’t want to be responsible for what may happen
to Dar. I want to leave him behind. I want to focus on the two of
us.”

William finally nodded. “Fine, I’ll
do what I can to keep the truth from him. He may find out
eventually, though. He’ll ask questions about why they chose you.”
He touched her hand. “We have a new future ahead of us.”

They fell silent, and Grace slowly
took her hand away. Leaning back in the seat, she wasn’t sure she’d
ever lied so much.

Whose side was she on? It was true,
she’d been pulled into this, and she didn’t want to choose who was
right or wrong, but it seemed like it was obvious. The Avialies
cursed to die just because they were shape changers? She couldn’t
forget their hopeful, expectant faces or their heartfelt thanks as
they left gifts at the foot of her bed.

At the same time, she had to
realize how insane the idea of Lisbeth’s prophecy was. Why would
she be the woman with the child who would survive? What was so
special about her? A birthmark. That wasn’t enough to save an
entire bloodline.

* * *

Chapter Ten

Sierra ran her fingers over the
bruises on her neck. She could see in the mirror that they were an
array of various colors: purple, green, blue. Touching them too
much hurt. Damn Alec. He lost control nearly every time, no matter
who reprimanded him afterward.

She glanced over at Matt, who sat
on her cot.

He shook his head, his hands
clenched into fists. “I’m sick of him. I can’t believe Childress
keeps letting him do it.”

“I should refuse to do it until
Nassan’s back.”

“I told you that days
ago.”

Sierra smiled at him. “At least
someone’s looking out for me.”

There was a voice outside of the
tent: Childress. “Sierra?”

“Tell him now,” Matt said,
motioning to the tent.

Sierra stepped out of the tent.
Childress stood on the grass with three unfamiliar men. Their dark
clothes and cloaks made them blend in with the night, only their
faces gleaming in the moonlight. “Yes?” Sierra turned to
Childress.

“These men…” Childress trailed
off. “They’d like to have a word with you.”

“In our carriage,” one of them
motioned toward a carriage at the edge of the collection of
tents.

Sierra paused, her gaze settling on
one of the men’s faces. He looked familiar to her, but she couldn’t
recall why. She tried to figure out where she’d seen his dark
blonde hair and sneer.

“Miss?” He stretched out his elbow
for her to take, and she saw he was missing two of his fingers. She
remembered in a flash who he was. He’d been at the battle two years
ago. Evan had cut off those fingers.

She turned on her heel and ran. The
men were right behind her. One of them tackled her to the ground.
She kicked and struggled as hard as she could, but he shoved her
face in the ground.

“Let me go!” she yelled. “Let me
go, I’m not an Avialie!”

“Oh, we know,” the man
said.

He forced her to her feet, and
another man came over with rope. She kicked him in the groin, and
the third man came to help tie her up. She saw Matt come out of the
tent, yelling for them to stop, but Childress took out a dagger and
warned him away.

“What the hell are you doing?”
Matt shouted. “Let her go!” He started to move forward, but
Childress flicked his wrist, slicing the skin on Matt’s arm with
the dagger. He shied away, holding the cut. Tears smarted her eyes
as he watched her with desperation in his face.

“I haven’t seen them for two
years!” Sierra yelled at the Protectors as they dragged her away.
“Leave me alone!”

She placed another kick into a
kneecap and elbowed one in the stomach, but they overpowered her.
The circus crew and performers came out of the tents, roused by the
sound. Matt tried to reach her again, but Childress was vigilant
with his knife.

The struggle lasted all the way to
the carriage, where the men forced her down and tied her ankles,
but not before she kicked someone in the nose. In response, a man
hit her in the stomach, and the air flooded out of her. She gasped
for breath, fighting back nausea and tears, and by the time she
opened her eyes, she realized they’d left her alone in the back of
the carriage.

The carriage lurched forward. Her
voice went hoarse as she yelled and screamed, and she tried to
twist her ropes and ankles out of the coarse rope. She fought back
sobs and swallowed her fear. She wouldn’t give them that
satisfaction.

Where were they taking her? The
ride went on and on. Whenever they slowed down and Sierra thought
they might be stopping, they sped back up. She yelled whenever she
heard voices, but eventually they were in complete silence aside
from the sounds of the horses and carriage.

She thought of Matt and his scared
face as they pulled her away. Why hadn’t anyone else fought for
her? Jewel, Becca, Vance? She would have fought for
them.

A couple hours must have passed
when they finally came to a stop. She heard their voices, and she
gritted her teeth. Someone opened the door, and she kicked into the
air. They fell only on air, though, before someone grabbed her
ankles. They pulled her out of the carriage, and she fell to the
ground, hitting her head. While she was disoriented from the pain,
they half-dragged her to a small stone stall. As they opened it,
she had a moment to see the manor stretching into the sky beside
them and the gate surrounding them. How far had they
traveled?

Someone pushed her into the stall
and down a stone staircase. A few torches lit up the area. One long
aisle with cells on either side. She turned around, trying to fight
her way back upstairs, but someone grabbed her by the hair and
pulled her into one of the cells. They pulled off her ropes and
slammed the cell door.

She threw herself against the bars.
“Hey!” she yelled. “Don’t leave me here! I don’t have anything you
want! I’m not an Avialie and I haven’t talked to any for two
years!”

They went up the steps and left
her. “Stop! You can’t do this!” she shouted. She swore and shook
the bars again.

She looked across the aisle, trying
to see if anyone else was in here with her. When she turned to look
around her cell, she froze.

A man was chained up in the corner,
unconscious or dead. Sierra stared at him for a moment. His brown
curly hair almost reached his shoulders, dirt covered every visible
inch of skin, and he was small, possibly emaciated underneath his
filthy outfit. But she would know him anywhere. An icy fear took
over her body.

She shrank away from him and turned
back to the bars, her anger now mixed with desperation. “Let me go!
Let me out of here! Please!” she screamed. “Please, I don’t have
anything you want! I’m not an Avialie!”

She set her forehead on the dirty
bars, closing her eyes. “It’s just a shape changer,” she whispered
to herself. “It’s not Evan. Evan’s dead.” She fought back more
tears. She wouldn’t cry. She’d get out of here.