Page 15 of The Enemy's Daughter

“Ah. Makes sense. It’d be cumbersome to wear while you murdered people.”

He doesn’t deny it, which only angers me more. My face must be showing it, because his eyes shift down and away from me.

Is there really a pack somewhere back there filled with supplies? Weapons? Maybe we should send someone for it. Though the people in the Kingsland live no different than we do, with homes made from the forest and supplies dependent on traders, their raids give them the pick of the litter. Who knows what information we might gain if we could find it?

Information that will lead to more killing.

Which isn’t what I want. I drag my hands down my face. Why does it have to be like this? So much death. Not just from Tristan and the Kingsland, but my clansmen too. We pride ourselves on how we’re so different from them. How we didn’t let the anarchy after the bombs twist us with greed, and our leaders aren’t corrupt. But it hasn’t stopped countless clansmen from training in combat and being willing to kill. How do we break this cycle of death?

As if the answer can be found on his face, I study Tristan. Locks of wavy brown hair curve across his forehead. Others tuck behind his ears. His skin still glows flawlessly in the firelight—too flawlessly. In fact, I’ve never seen a soldier with such a straight nose and so few scars. Perhaps the soldiers in the Kingsland don’t settle their disputes with fists. Or Tristan doesn’t lose his fights.

My gaze drifts to the bandage on his shoulder. It’s not soaked through, which is good because I’m fresh out of cloth.

Not that it matters.

My throat tightens as my thoughts land in the one place I’ve fought to keep them from all night: what will happen when we return to Hanook. Tristan won’t be receiving the stitches he needsor a nice warm meal. He’ll be lucky if he survives the day. I’m delivering him to his demise.

I jump to my feet and start to walk away but stop. Tristan’s cold eyes follow me.

“Why?” I blurt. “Give me a reason whyyou’rehere on this path. I mean, I get that something really horrible just happened.” I can’t say Farron’s name. “We’ve stirred the pot and now the Kingsland wants to retaliate.”

Tristan’s posture straightens as if I’ve said something important.

“I know our bad blood goes back decades. For resources and land. But why you? What’s your part in all this?”

And can I persuade you to let it go?

“What do you know about what happened to Farron?”

My body stiffens.

“You said you know the clans stirred the pot. But what exactly do you know about Farron?” Tristan’s face tightens with anger when I don’t speak. “Who attacked him? What’d they do with him? Tell me everything.Anything.”

Guilt over the answers to those questions pushes my heart rate faster. But not enough to commit treason. “Tellyou, my prisoner?” I say in disbelief.

Long seconds pass. Then slowly, his hateful glare returns as my silence is perceived as support for what the clans did to his leader.

I drop my head at the disgust twisting my stomach. “Not all of us get a choice in the decisions that are made.”

“So you were opposed to the attack on Farron?”

“Don’t you already know allabout me? The White Rabbit?”

It might be the poor light, but the animosity in his eyes seems to fade. “If I’d known everything about you, I would have knownyou could throw a knife like that.”

My gaze darts to his shoulder. He’s right, I suppose. “Good thing I also came with a bag full of yarkow leavesthat were boiled, you know, so they didn’t have anybugs.”

He raises a doubtful brow.

“Do you really have no herbs or medicines in the Kingsland?”

“None like that.” He adjusts his legs. “So, you’re a doctor?”

There are no doctors out here. And if he scoffs at the use of plants, there’s no point explaining the years I’ve spent studying to be a healer. “I’m just a girl with a backpack full of bandages and herbs.”

He nods, but there’s something thoughtful in his eyes. Something distinctly not angry. Something distinctly human. It scares me. It was easier not to think about what would happen to him tomorrow in Hanook when he was so obviously plotting my downfall.

I can’t think about him that way. He is the enemy. If the roles were reversed and I were his prisoner, I’d be wishing for death right now. He’d make sure of it.

---