Page 13 of The Enemy's Daughter

Questions fly through my head at breakneck speed. Does he know I’m the daughter of the man who ordered his leader’s assassination?

Does he know I’m betrothed to Farron’s murderer?

What else does he know? And why didn’t he try to kill me?

“Look,” he says casually, like he hasn’t just lit the underbrush of my world on fire. “We’re a long way off, and I need to take a piss.”

What?I swallow. Glance around.

“I’m not joking.”

“How did you know my name?”

He pauses. “I’ll tell you after you untie my wrists so I can relieve myself.”

“I’m not untying you,” I say with a scoff.

“Then explain to me how this is going to work because it’s kind of a hands-on job—or... were you hoping you could help?”

He canpisshis pants before I’d ever gethands-onwith him. He’s just trying to rattle me. Distract me. Which... is working.

“I’m not helping you with anything until you explain how you know my name.”

“Isadora.” My name rolls off his lips like a prayer. “I’ve always known your name. You’re the White Rabbit.”

“What?” I recoil. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been called theWhite Rabbitin my life.”

“It’s because of your hair,” he says softly. “So blond it’s almost white. Everyone from Kingsland knows you as the White Rabbit.”

“Everyone?” I whisper. Unconsciously, my hand goes to my long braid.

This man knows who I am.

He’s known all along.

Fates.What have I gotten myself into?

“Can I relieve myself now?”

Midas makes a sound and jerks to the side, spooking again. I fight to gain back control using muscle and soothing words, but she won’t allow us to go on. My eyes close as a scream of frustration builds inside me.

Fine. I surrender.

I jump down from my saddle and quickly secure Midas, then with brisk movements pull my know-it-all assassin to a nearby tree.

“What are you doing?” His voice is genuinely curious, almost congenial in a way I haven’t heard yet.

Roughly, I jerk the leash around the trunk above him and tie it off so tight he won’t be able to move an inch without choking to death. His hands remain trapped behind him.

“What am I doing?” I ask the outline of his face, using the same gentle, doe-like tone he used on me. “I’m fulfilling your wish, of course.” He makes a small gasp as my fingers search for the buttonat the top of his pants. I flick it open, then find the zipper and pull it down. My confidence wavers as my hands grip the fabric, but in a burst of movement, I drag everything on his hips down. So much so that if he somehow gets his neck free, he’ll trip over his feet. It’s too dark to see anything, and I wouldn’t look down even if I could, but heat scalds my cheeks as if they’ve been burned. “Do you require further assistance, or can you take it from here?”

He’s as still as the tree he’s wrapped around. I can’t even hear him breathe, which I should; I’m extremely close to him.

Did he really think I’d just untie him?

You may know my name, but you don’t know a thing about me.

His inability to speak remains as I storm away, needing a minute alone as much as or more than he does.

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