Page 87 of The Enemy's Daughter

Henshaw relays a checklist of surgical equipment he has no hope of getting. I tune him out as I search for the connection. Tristan’s here, that much I sense, but the distance between us is too far for anything more.Escape, I send to him anyway. He must find a way. It’s his only hope.

“Can she wait until we reach Hanook?” Liam asks, worry sharpening his voice.

“I don’t see another option—not if you want this to go well. But I should check the clamps and pack the wound better. Give her something to drink, if she can, to help with the blood loss.”

“Do it. Be quick.”

“Then bring me my medical bag.”

We continue on, but even adrenaline and sheer terror isn’t enough to keep me awake.

A woman wipes a cloth over my face with a firm, practiced hand, leaving a trace of lavender. She’s not gentle. She’s efficient. The soft melody of “Wintertime,” one of the few songs I know, tiptoes through the air.

It’s my mother.

“Where am I?” I rasp, my eyes opening.

She startles. “You’re home.” Happiness shines on her face, but I don’t take the time to appreciate the rare occurrence.

Frantically, my gaze darts around the room. My red-and-white flowered curtains flutter toward my bed; the shutters are half open. My precious stack of medical books and beeswax candles remain in a pile on the small table in the corner. The familiar scent of peeled logs and smoke from the woodstove in the living room fills my nose. Disappointment piles on me like the layers of blankets holding me down.

She’s wrong. This isn’t my home anymore.

Tristan.

My hand shoots to my bandaged neck. The clamps are gone. I vaguely remember Henshaw working on me again after he gave mesome medicine that made me feel intoxicated. Eventually, he gave me something else that put me to sleep. Sharp slivers of pain dig into the muscles surrounding my throat as I lift my head from my lumpy pillow, but it’s not unbearable. “How long have I been out?”

Mum’s dirty-blond hair is pulled tight into its usual braid, and the lines around her mouth and eyes seem deeper than I remember them. Perhaps I should be relieved at seeing her—something I wasn’t sure would ever happen again—but I’m not. The disappointment is too great to appreciate this as a gift.

“You’ve been asleep for a little over a day. That doctor warned it would be like that after whatever he gave you.”

I freeze at the mention of Henshaw, hoping she’ll say more—like where he’s being kept, and especially with who. But she doesn’t elaborate. I clear my throat, which tenses my neck and causes the shards of pain to plunge a little deeper. “Were the doctor and I the only people Liam brought back from Kingsland?”

Mum stands. “That’s none of your concern. Liam and your father are handling it.”

I see nothing has changed in the time I’ve been gone. Not even losing her daughter has spurred her to push back on her lowly position.

I can’t afford to do the same. “Where’s Liam?”

“I’m here.” His large frame appears at the open door.

Skies—he was waiting. Listening.

Mum cups my cheek in an uncharacteristically tender move, her eyes burning with something unsaid. I think she missed me.

“Would you like to freshen up in the bathroom first?”

Actually, yes. My bladder needs it, and it’ll give me time to formulate a plan.

She helps me stand, and although I’m a little dizzy, I’m perfectly capable of walking myself. But when I return to my spot on the bed minutes later, I’m no closer to figuring out what to do.

I nibble on my lip as Liam shuts the door—a bold move neither Mum or I could object to given Liam’s status as a clan leader. His gaze skates over my room, taking it in with interest. He pauses on my textbooks, the ones he brought me, then grins.

It’s shocking how primitive everything feels in comparison to Kingsland. It’s like a giant step back in time. But more than that, a restlessness comes over me. The sensation of being trapped. It’s... stifling.

Not only do I not want to live here anymore, but I also don’t want to go back to who I was when I lived here.

“Where’s Tristan and the doctor?” I ask.

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