Page 106 of The Enemy's Daughter

“You were trying to leave.”

“Am I not allowed?” I ask, keeping my voice as soft as a bird. A spark of pleasure ignites at the idea of secretly defying him.

“Do I need to remind you what will happen if you—”

“No,” I say. My jaw clenches at the looming threat. “You’ve made yourself very clear.”

“Have I? And yet, I still see some fight in you.”

“The only fight I have left is to protect Tristan. At all costs.” Fortunately, my voice comes out weak and trembling, so he interprets my meaning in his favor.

“Good choice.”

Silence hangs between us until I fear he can hear my pounding heart. “Am I free to go?”

“I know you resent me, but this is a monumental day.”

My gaze lifts from the floor to his face.

He almost looks repentant as his Adam’s apple bobs. “At one time you wanted to marry Liam. Look for that feeling again. It will make this much easier for you.”

That’s his advice? Focus on someone else to get over the person you love. I’m tempted to ask if it ever worked for him. “Of course.”

He looks me over one last time, then his large hand lands onmy shoulder, offering a quick squeeze. It’s the closest I’ll ever get to a hug. “You’ll get through this. You may go,” he says, his voice gruff.

My eyes close. Part of me wants to fold up this moment like it’s a note and tuck it somewhere safe as proof he’s not entirely a wretched excuse for a human being. In his own contemptible way, he cares.

The rest of me wants to light everything on fire.

He turns back to the men waiting in his office, and I leave before I get any more tempting ideas.

I slip on my snakeskin riding boots, and the guard, who likely heard Father dismiss me, doesn’t stop me as I barge out the door. Three of Father’s men stand on the porch, talking. Two more by the horses. They all eye me as I cross the yard in a wedding dress. I couldn’t be more conspicuous in this thing; how am I ever going to get to Tristan?

I look for Freia and notice the simple setup for the wedding. It’s small, as promised. A dozen donated kitchen chairs are spaced out in two even rows. They face a long strip of white fabric draped between two tall birch trees, forming an arch. The decorations make everything feel real, and my already hammering pulse skyrockets.

It won’t be long before wedding guests—clan leaders—arrive. We’re running out of time.

Hooves thunder down a trail to my right. Gerald and four of his men ride ahead past the hitching post, coming directly my way. My steps slow with caution as my ribs tighten over my lungs.

“Princess,” he says, jumping off his horse.

My guard rises in full force. There’s no hiding the fear andrevulsion on my face. I don’t know what I did to gain this man’s attention, but I don’t want it.

“You don’t like Princess?” He smiles, revealing a couple of rotten teeth. “But isn’t that what you are as the Saraf’s daughter?”

Father’s men stand taller, not hiding that they’re watching from their position on the porch. But they don’t move to intervene. My gaze flicks toward Percy’s house.Fates.I was so close.

Gerald’s gaze slithers down me and although the urge to hide my body from him is overwhelming, I force myself to do the same, sizing him up. His shoulder-length dark hair is greasy and receding on top. But it’s the small bone dangling from his necklace that has all my attention. It’s on top of his shirt. Visible as clear as day. A power move, no doubt, to remind Father of the secrets Gerald’s keeping for him. The disgust I feel for this traitor rivals only my fear.

He’s wearing a Maska leather vest holding at least two knives, some coiled wire, and a rope. A bow is strapped to his back. Dark stains spot his clothes. Blood. Other body fluids. It’s no wonder he remains unmarried.

“You dressed up for me.” He lets out a gravelly laugh that makes my skin crawl.

I take a step back.

His hand shoots out to grip my arm. “Where you going? We’re not done.”

“W-what?” I glance helplessly in the direction of Percy’s house. “I need to go to my brother’s.” I realize my mistake immediately as suspicion sparks in his eyes. Why didn’t I say Freia’s house? He likely knows where Tristan is being kept.

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