Page 180 of The Trials of Ophelia

My hands were stiff from being locked around the reins in the freezing air, my entire body rigid, but all I could picture was Tolek’s hard stare across the river; he’d tried so damn hard to pretend he was okay sending me off, though he knew I could defend myself.

His absence was like a phantom limb. I wished we had a Bind to communicate through.

“Ricordan said it’s south of here,” I called to Santorina and Barrett. I tried to focus on the task I was given as Tolek wanted me to.

We would find each other; I knew it.

Not long later, thanks to the mares’ unrelenting pace, a looming shadow of walls came into view. Draped with ivy that persisted despite the winter air and miles away from the gates of the city, Ricordan’s family property stood solo and resolute in the snowy night.

A base for our trap for Kakias.

We entered through the back gate as Ric advised, but it wouldn’t have mattered if we came from the front. The property was abandoned. Anyone found here was fair to meet our blades, Ricordan had commanded.

Hooves pounded over snow as we pulled up to the back of the manor. Barrett hopped off his horse and pressed his face to one of the glass double doors, releasing a low whistle. Rebel perked up beside him. “Ric comes from wealth, then.”

I followed him, cupping my hand around my eyes to peer through the chilled window. Though graced with layers of dust, the furniture was clearly finely made with gold trim on the couches and bronze and onyx frames decorating the walls. Over the stone hearth, a multi-generational family portrait hung proudly, their faces too morphed in the fogged glass to decipher who was whom. A grand piano sat in the corner and shelves lined with books and artwork covered one wall, moth-eaten curtains framing the windows.

The small details were what stood out, though. The blankets rumpled along the back of the couches. Candles half-burned. Volumes left messily stacked on the table beside the door and even a golden ring sitting delicately on top.

Despite the ivy and thick, black vines matting the manor’s facade, it was clear this had once been a wealthy household, cared for and teeming with life. Now, it was an abandoned shell of a home, no one around for miles.

Before turning away, my eyes caught on that painting above the mantel, and my heart clenched in my chest.

“Yes, it seems he does.” I turned away from the door before the sentimentality could grip me too deeply. There wasn’t room for it right now, but a small ache dug behind my sternum, stinging my eyes.

Striding back to Sapphire, I forced it away. She pranced in place, restless.

“Hey, girl,” I soothed, stroking down her nose until she settled; searching those deep-blue eyes, I reminded myself why I was here. “You’re doing great so far, but we need to keep this up for a little bit longer.” She’d been more skittish than usual lately, and it sent a twisting pain through my chest. “Rina, we need to find a place to prep?—”

A clanking of metal echoed across the grounds. My horse and I both froze, our stares locked and alert.

The familiar scratch flitted on the wind again. It sounded like it was coming from the east, around the manor and toward the front gates.

“Ophelia?” Rina asked warily.

“Shh!” I looked at Barrett, knowing Santorina wouldn’t have heard it. “Was that what I think it was?”

A deep, rumbling laugh that almost blended in with the riling storm drifted with the sharper metal scrapes. They were low, muffled as if through thick stone walls.

“Voices,” Barrett said.

“And armor,” I added.

They were getting closer now. Louder. Like a pair of careless guards on patrol.

“No…” The prince turned ghastly white.

“How in the everlasting Spirits?” I growled.

Go to my family’s manor in Thorentil. He wouldn’t have…

“What is it?” Santorina whispered, but I thought she already knew. Nerves had her eyes narrowed on the arched doorway leading into the manor.

“I think my mother’s guards are already here,” Barrett deadpanned, though his hands clenched at his sides.

Rina’s eyes widened. Snow collected on our shoulders and layered the ground around us. We stood frozen as statues as the sharp clangs of metal drew closer, boots against stone accenting the pattern.

“Ricordan set us up.”

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