Page 55 of The Enemy's Daughter

We stare each other down until a cavern opens up in my heart. By leaving, I’m choosing a side.

As if I could choose anything other than this. I jerk on the reins of my horse and ride through the gate.

Someone jumps down from a tree in front of me. My horse rears up, and I fight to regain control. Another man lands to my left. They’re soldiers and both have arrows pointed at my heart.

What’s going on? I look back at Annette behind me.

A smug look overtakes her face. “Just because we want you gone doesn’t mean we’d release you.”

Dread crawls over me.

“Isadora Banks,” says the soldier to my left. “You’ve committed treason against the town of Kingsland. You will be transported to our prison until—”

I choke on a scream as I jerk upright in bed.

What?

How?

I swat at the hair strewn over my face, desperate to see where I am. I find white walls. White curtains. I’m in Tristan’s old room.

My head drops. It was a dream.

A nightmare.

I fall back, my heart thundering in my ears. It wasn’t real.

But what’s to stop it from coming true when I leave tonight?

The sun isn’t setting, it’s rising, and now that I’m awake, the soft thuds of the kitchen cupboards opening and closing downstairs reach my ears. Tristan’s awake.

Sincere relief, then excitement flits through me that I get to see him again—which is the opposite of what I should be feeling. With a growl, I throw my arm over my eyes.Calm down.

This is exactly why I’ve hidden in my room since our conversation in the kitchen. The memory he sent me gave me a lot to think about last night, and I needed time alone without hiseverythingclouding my head. Except time alone hasn’t given me any answers. Only more questions. Thanks to morning academy, I can list every major attack Kingsland has made on us. I know the names of lost soldiers and the exact dates they were killed. I can recount with excruciating detail the wounds of the tortured men I’ve had to treat. But other than us killing Farron, I don’t know what we’ve done to Kingsland. Have we really killed innocent people like Tristan showed me?

Or was the memory a distortion of the truth? A fox—the kind I’ve painstakingly been warned about, the kind I was certain Farron was—wouldmanipulate me with lies over our history. It’d be a necessary evil for me to fall for his plan.

But is Tristan a fox? Is he playing me?

I’m not going to find out by hiding any longer in this room.

Climbing out of bed is a chore. My joints and muscles ache with a stiffness that’s always heavier in the morning, but at least the debilitating exhaustion has waned. The tea continues to work. I have the strength to leave tonight with Annette. Although, after that nightmare, I’m more uneasy about those plans than ever.

I pull on a gray sweater of Tristan’s. The sleeves hang down past my hands, so I push them up to my elbows. I match it with a pair of fitted pants from a pile of clothes Enola brought for me. Sweeping my hair over my shoulder, I wash my face and clean my teeth. I’m pleased to note the dark circles under my eyes are fading.

I pause with my hand on the doorknob and close my eyes.Be strong. He has no hold over you.

Despite my encouraging self-talk, my nerves prickle with excitement, especially after seeing Tristan’s open bedroom door. He’s usually neat and makes his bed. Astoundingly, I suspect he washes and folds his own clothes. Except his sheets are rumpled now—why? Did he leave in a hurry? Or struggle to sleep for the same reason I did?

Did he think about me in this bed?

I grit my teeth. Skies, this connection is ruining me.

The sounds coming from the kitchen grow louder as I descend the stairs, and my heart turns into a galloping horse.

“Oh, good, you’re up,” Enola says, spinning around after closing the cold storage door. “Sorry, was I being too loud?”

My gaze sweeps the room.She’s alone. “No,” I say, doing my best not to sound disappointed. “It’s fine.”

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