Page 108 of The Enemy's Daughter

“What are you planning?” Freia asks warily.

I pull out a drop-point blade, then stuff it under the fabric covering my bust, not caring whether it’s visible.

“Isadora, wait,” Freia says urgently. “This isn’t what we talked about. If your brother doesn’t agree to help you, he won’t corroborate our story that the Kingsland took the prisoners.”

I stand up. “I know.”

She glances around, face pained. “It’s not just about getting in trouble. This is my brother. Your brother. What exactly are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure,” I answer, but that’s not the truth. I do know. “Have the horses waiting.” Then I take off toward Percy’s house.

36

Freddy is sitting on Percy’s front porch.

He stands as I mount the steps and march past him. Fingers of dark brown braids poke out from under his hat. “You really gonna do this?”

I guess Freia already broached the idea. “Uh-huh,” I say, then twist the door handle and walk right in. Freddy doesn’t stop me.

The connection instantly pulls me to Tristan, knitting a bridge between us. He startles at my presence. Then wisps of his curiosity and concern flow through me as I approach the room I found him in yesterday.

Percy exits the bathroom, holding a towel to his wet, blond hair. He straightens when he sees me. “What are you doing?” His gaze darts to the room Tristan’s in, the one I’m only feet from opening. Caution enters his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Am I not welcome in your home?” I’m close enough to Tristan that a warmth swirls languidly in my gut.

Percy’s head slowly inclines. “You damn well know why.”

“I’m breaking them out. They saved me, Percy. Tristan and the doctor. I owe them my life.”

He moves closer. “Stop talking nonsense and get out of here.”

My hand slips into the front of my dress, and I pull out the blade, holding it in the air between us. “You’re not listening to me. I owe them. The kind of debt you die for.”

Percy’s face grows confused. “They’re from the Kingsland. Have you forgotten what that means? They are Kingsland!”

“He’s my husband,” I shout back.

“If you do this, you’re going to get yourself killed.”

Urgency gnaws on my insides. There’s no time to argue. “Pick a side, Percy. Right now. Fight me or walk away.”

“Fight you?” He gives a hollow laugh, then drops the towel in his hand to rub his eyes. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“I haven’t.” I force a calm I don’t feel into my voice. “I know exactly what I’m doing. Liam told me you care about my future. That you’ve been protecting me behind the scenes every time Father has thrown me away for his own interests. I’m asking you to do it again, one last time. Walk away. Just walk out the door.”

The stubborn crease between his brows softens infinitesimally. “What’s your plan? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

“I have horses and supplies ready. If you could... distract Father. That’s all I need.”

We stare each other down. A multitude of emotions passes over his face, too fast to make them all out. He curses, then marches out the door.

Gratitude and relief cascade through me. Skies above, that actually worked.

Bursting into the room where Tristan’s being held, I find himfighting with the ropes around his hands and ankles. He’s dressed in Percy’s clothes, but they’re marked with blood. New cuts and bruises mar his face.

The connection crashes into us full force, and the room feels like it darkens with my fury. I’m so livid it takes me a second to comprehend that Tristan’s staring at me.

“Wow,” he says, his gaze taking in my dress.

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