Page 36 of The Enemy's Daughter

I’m his prisoner.

12

There’s only one way to know for sure if the fence is real and impenetrable.

My plan is simple: leave in the middle of the night, while Tristan is sleeping, and find a way through whatever stands in my path.

By some wonder, my bedroom door has been left unlocked, and though I hear Enola tinkering in the kitchen and puttering around the house, I haven’t moved except for a quick but fruitless search of the room Tristan sleeps in. Instead, I’ve spent my time storing up energy by eating, drinking, and sleeping, not even changing out of Tristan’s shirt, so I don’t raise any suspicion.

However, as the day turns to night, thoughts of what Samuel absolutely will do to me if I’m caught is making time pass like a kidney stone. So for the last couple of hours, I’ve distracted myself by reading.

“Is she—?”

I nearly drop the book on old-world leaders at the sound of Tristan’s voice outside my door. He’s back.

“Sleeping, most likely,” Enola says. “It’s late. Best to let her rest. You should sleep too.”

Tristan exhales heavily. “Not yet. I’m expecting... a visitor. And I need to go through Dad’s office. Vador requested a few reports.”

I strain to hear more, but the voices disappear downstairs. My nails dig into my palms. Avisitor? Is it another person to babysit me? Stifling a cry of pain, I fight my way out of bed. Though having the antidote and adequate nutrition has helped me, it’s not the miracle I was hoping for, and my skin is feverish and damp by the time I make it down the hallway. At the stairs, I roll up the long sleeves on Tristan’s white shirt as I listen. The front door closes. I’m too late. Enola has left us alone.

I blow out a heavy breath, but then my ear is drawn to the sound of a key unlocking an inside door. Right, Tristan said he needed to work in Farron’s office—a room I didn’t know existed.

Just then, there’s a knock at the front door, and Tristan goes to answer it. I duck down, drawing close to the staircase wall separating us, but I’m keenly aware that the door blocking the access to all of the Kingsland’s secrets has been left wide open.

Don’t do it, I tell myself.If I get caught stealing information, Samuel will make sure I rot in their prison.

But is that what Liam would do? Play it safe? I already know the answer. I think of how he’s risked his life to be the next Saraf, and fought on the front lines even though he’s not a fighter. He’s done everything he can to help our people, and although he’s been scared, he’s done it anyway.

Before I talk myself out of it, I steal across the hallway and slip in through the open door. There’s a light on, shining like the midday sun. Breathless and shaking like my knees might give out, I take the room in.

“Ryland said you wanted to see me?” says a woman.

I spin toward the voices.

“Yes,” says Tristan. “And I think you know what this is about.”

Whatisthis about?

No. Focus, Isadora.I shake my head, returning my attention to the papers and large map that covers three of the four walls. A desk and several cabinets line the room.

“Tristan, listen—”

“This morning you said you were here to drop off food, but instead you locked her up? And you never once even fed her or gave her the antidote, all these days? You could have killed her, Annette,” Tristan says, anger edging his lowered voice.

Annette.

“Oh, please,” she says. “She was fine.”

“She wasn’t fine. You did the opposite of everything I asked you to. I can’t believe you’d—”

“And I can’t believe you’d marry her,” Annette spits back, then gasps with a sob.

Once again, I find myself frozen, my brain stuck on the fact that it was Annette who locked me in.

“She’s the daughter of the man who killed your father,” Annette cries. “How could you marry her?”

That’s a question I’dalsolike the answer to—at a time when I’m not risking my life. I force myself to read the papers on the wall. There’s a list of meaningless dates, another with a chart of shipments and deliveries. The map is of the entire Federated States of the Republic—something I’ve seen before, but not in nearly so much detail. It’s intriguing... and also not what I’m here for. I tear my gaze from it.

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