Page 71 of The Enemy's Daughter

I jerk away with a yelp.

“It’s me,” Tristan says.

I sit up, feeling my side of the connection reach for him. “Oh, I thought you were... someone else.” I don’t dare say Annette’s name.

It’s dark now, but the little bit of light from the house reflects off his face. His eyes are downcast.

“I’m surprised you’re still here.” His voice sounds different. Tight.

The connection is giving me very little of what he’s feeling. Scared of what that means, I try to touch his hand, but he moves back.

“Tristan,” I whisper.

He removes a stack of folded papers from his pocket and drops them into my lap.

I suck in a breath, recognizing them as the ones I stole from Farron’s office. He searched my room?

His eyes watch me closely. “So it’s true?” His betrayal splinters off into shards that lodge in my throat. “Annette wasn’t lying.”

Ah. Annette searched my room. Somehow. Then found Tristan when I didn’t show tonight. My face grows hot. My thoughts tangle and knot as I try to think of how to explain.

“They told me. Everyone warned me this would happen. That I’d be too blinded by my feelings to see the treachery right in front of my face. Is the part about you planning to leave tonight also true?”

I get to my feet. “Yes. But let me explain.”

A groan leaks from him as he spins away.

“No, listen. I only wanted to go home and protect my people from being killed. And you knew that. You’ve seen it every time we were together.”

He looks at me in astonishment. “Do you know why I walked away earlier? It’s because I felt like a terrible son. My father died, and it hit me that if given the chance to change the outcome, Iwouldn’t. Because if he hadn’t have died... I wouldn’t have you.”

I wasn’t the cause of his disgust earlier? He was upset at himself. A lump rises painfully in my throat.

“I chose you,” he says raggedly. “I chose you over him, and then I find out that you were—do you know how many of our people would have died if the Saraf saw these reports?”

My hands fly to my chest. “And what about my people? Myfamily? I couldn’t sit by and do nothing. You have to understand that all my life I’ve been told that Kingsland was filled with evil barbarians. Then I was shot by one with a poisoned arrow, taken to this forbidden place, and starved and locked away in a room. You yourself told me I would never see my family again. I heard you promise justice that sounded like obliteration of the clans. So yes, until I learned the truth hours ago, I felt compelled to escape and help my people. The clans are outnumbered and outgunned. If the roles were reversed, you would have done the same.”

Tristan stares at the ground. “Except we’re not evil barbarians, are we? All that you’ve been taught was a lie. The only person who would kill innocent people is your father, and I prayed every day that you would see the truth, while hoping the connection would show you how much I...” He stops to bite his lip. “I’ve done everything in my power to give you anything you wa—”

“Except letting me leave!” I shout.

A bird startles and flaps away from a tree.

My chest rises and falls sharply. I’ve never yelled at a man like this before. “I know I was considered a security threat, but at least be honest and call it what it is. I’m your prisoner, Tristan. And to some extent, I always will be. Everything you said and did was tainted by mistrust because you held the keys to my cage.”

His chin drops to his chest.

Blazing skies, this isn’t how I wanted this to go. “But that’s not—”

“You’re right.”

My throat hitches. “What?”

His eyes lock and hold with mine, and the sadness I see in them threatens to tear me in two. “I forced you to stay, and I lied to myself about what we were becoming. You didn’t choose this.” His lip curls like he’s repulsed. “And I won’t make you. Come. I’ll take you to the fence. I’ll take you right now.” He starts to walk but stops abruptly and faces me with a grimace. “I only ask that you don’t use the information from those papers to hurt us.” Then he turns from me and leads the way across the yard.

I stare after him as the space between us grows. He’s really doing it. He’s letting me go. My hands lift to rest on my head as an absolute feeling of wrongness grates behind my ribs. “And what if I don’t want to go to the fence?” I call after him.

He stops.

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