Page 99 of The Enemy's Daughter

It’s a bold and extremely dangerous plan, but one that could have maximum impact before I make my escape.

It all hinges on setting Tristan free.

Outside my window, horses whinny and trot close by. Soldiers talk. Their boots shuffle along the paths, snicking through grass as they patrol. They’re on high alert. What do they know?

By now, Tristan’s back in Hanook, locked away. He’s probably not more than a mile from me, but if I went to find him, I’d almost certainly be caught—which I could live with if it wouldn’t be Tristan who would pay the price. Father would make sure to teach me a lesson.

He wouldn’t even have to torture Tristan to destroy me. Father could simply reveal to him that I’m marrying Liam. Tomorrow. Would Tristan know I’d been coerced? Or would he think I’d abandoned him? Betrayed him? I seize a brass candleholder from the table and hurl it across the room. It cracks against the wall, the flame flickering out.

A thundering knock comes from the front door, and I jump, my breaths surging in and out of me. Did a soldier hear the crash? Are they coming to investigate? Or are they scouts here to report? I stride to my door and open it an inch.

“I don’t want to hear it. Go. To the horses!” Father shouts. “Meet on Solomon Trail.”

Footsteps pound through the house, then disappear. What’s going on? I count to ten before slipping out of my room. “Hello?” I call out, grabbing a flickering wall candle to illuminate my way.

The house is empty.

This isn’t the first burst of activity tonight as Father attempts to outwit Kingsland’s next move. But this is the first time he’s gone with them. My stomach bottoms out.

Is he being cautious? Paranoid?

Or is Kingsland here?

Whatever the situation, he’s distracted. This is my chance to leave undetected.

Hurrying to the weapons box in the kitchen, I set down the candle and grab two knives. One, a switchblade that I shove into the pocket of my shorts, and the other, a dagger that I keep in my hand—a hand that has grown sweaty with Father’s threats hanging like smoke in the air. If caught, I could say I thought we were under attack, but will he believe me? Or will Tristan be tortured for my disobedience?

Tristan’s probably already been tortured for information. Father only promised to keep him alive.

With renewed resolve, I slip on my shoes and denim jacket, then open the front door. Thanks to the torches glowing in the yard, I can see the space is empty. But a couple of horses remain at thehitching post. Not all the soldiers are gone. I’ll need to be careful.

“Have they broken through our lines?” asks a voice behind me.

A scream escapes my lips, and I spin, finding my mother.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Her gaze slips over my shoulder to sweep our property.

“The soldiers raced off again,” I say but can’t meet her eyes. “I’m going out there to make sure everything’s okay.”

“No! It could be the Kingsland.”

I hope so. My feet take a step. “We would have heard the attack siren. It’s probably a false alarm, or maybe someone’s hurt.” I’ve reached the bottom of the porch stairs.

“Isadora!”

I hesitate but then keep going, pretending I didn’t hear her. This may be my only chance.

“Nothing good will come from going to him.”

My eyes close. I wasn’t sure what she knew, but it’s clearly more than I thought. I pivot to glare at her. “You’re right. None of this is good. He’s facing a lifetime of imprisonment while I’m expected to...” I can’t finish.

Her face remains impassive except for her eyes, which have taken on a glassy sheen. “His guards know not to let you speak with him. What you’re trying to do isn’t even possible.”

How would she know what they’ve been instructed? “Do you know where Tristan is?”

Her gaze darts away. “I can’t tell you. Your father—”

“Then don’t tell him.” I wait, but when she says nothing, I repeat my question, only louder. “Where is Tristan?”

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