Page 100 of The Enemy's Daughter

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, but you’re not listening tome.I know I have to marryLiam... that’s the only choice left to me. But can’t you allow me this one act of mercy? To speak to Tristan one last time?”

We must look like statues in the night air as we stare each other down. She’s lived in obedience to Father and his rules since she was in her youth, but surely she can rise above it for me, her daughter.

For once.

“Please,” I beg.

Her head shakes the tiniest amount.

Hurt weaves through the channels of my heart like a ribbon soaked in fire.

“Fine. I’ll find him myself.” I resume my path, leaving her standing there. She doesn’t call for me again.

I make it past our barn and search for any sign of soldiers. There’s a trail leading to the house behind ours—the Sicarts’ home. This is as good a place as any to begin. The yard is lit, leaving me exposed. I dash into the shadows as their baby’s cries leak through the open windows, a reminder that patrols aren’t the only ones who could report me.

Branches scratch at my bare legs, my cotton shorts useless for any protection or warmth. Most frustrating of all, I’m relying on the connection as a guide. But am I not getting anything because Tristan is too far inside the house? Sleeping? Or truly not here?

A stick cracks to my right, and I freeze but see nothing. Finding the courage to move on is slow and tenuous with my feet crunching into the ground, announcing every step. By the time I complete a loop around the perimeter of the Sicarts’ home, ten minutes have probably gone by.

This is taking too long. I need to be more strategic. Spinning in a circle, I try to think like Father. Who might he use to hide Tristan?

Denver is Father’s most trusted man. There’s also my brother.

I huff. Father wouldn’t keep Tristan at Percy’s home—the possibility of me finding Tristan there is too great.

But maybe that’s the point. Having Tristan close is a reminder for me to toe the line.

I walk through a shallow bush and into Percy’s backyard, not stopping until my body presses against the cold logs that make up his bedroom. Closing my eyes, I open myself up to the connection, allowing my love and heartache for Tristan to amplify it. I call for Tristan. Then wait. A thread of warmth curls around me in response.

He’s here.

Latching onto the gentle heat, I follow it like a rope to the bedroom along the side.

Tristan.

He rouses, and the connection rejoices. There’s a ferocity to it as we come together, reunited, crashing into each other’s heads. A whimper emerges from my throat from the pain. The pleasure. The relief.

Where are you?he sends me.

I’m outside. Are there guards near you? How many?

He shows me a memory of interacting with three guards, though only one is within sight at the moment. Percy’s not one of them, and I’m not sure if that’s good or not. Once again, Tristan is tied up, but this time, he’s on a bed. I recognize where he is and take a few steps to the left to be closer.

Eight inches of wood is all that separates him from freedom. Both his and mine. If Tristan breaks out, then he can’t be used against me. There’ll be nothing stopping me from speaking thetruth. I show Tristan that there aren’t any guards outside.I have two knives, one for each of us. If I can get inside, we could use them to set you free.

No.

Tristan, we might not have another chance anytime soon.

I’mtied. Are you confident you can take down three fully armed guards? Kill them? Because that’s what it’s likely going to take. Do you have a horse ready? Supplies? Are you well enough to ride like hellfire for hours?

My nails dig into the logs in frustration.Okay, what if I only distract them? I could scream that Kingsland is attacking. One, maybe even all of them would leave.

I can practically feel him shaking his head.They’ve already discussed it. They know I’m a target, and under no circumstances are they to leave me alone.

My forehead falls against the wall.Then what, Tristan? Therehas tobe something.

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