Page 31 of The Enemy's Daughter

Oh my stars.

“But I didn’twantto be let go. The Saraf’s daughter was about to deliver me like a present to his front door. His guts would be nothing but a stain on their floor if you’d left me alone. Most importantly, we’d know unquestionably what condition my father is in.”

A shake enters my body. An unsteadiness. Tristan played me. But is he saying he also set me up? That running past me in the forest wasn’t a fluke? That heallowedme to take him captive?

No. No one’s that good an actor. His admission comes back to me, spoken that night around the fire.

If I’d known everything about you, I would have known you could throw a knife like that.

He really hadn’t, and I interrupted his mission—thank the skies.But he adapted and changed his plans to having me deliver him to Hanook.

Hot anger burns in my belly for ever having considered letting him go. Father could have been killed if not for Tristan’s own men shooting me with a poisoned arrow.

“Why do you think your father’s alive?” asks a soft voice. Must be one of the women soldiers. “There were witness reports—”

“I know that,” Tristan barks. There’s a crash as something collides with the wall. “This is why I went on my own. We need to act, and the plan is simple: we sneak in, eliminate whoever gets in our path, and find my father. I’m not wasting another day until I know. Come with me or don’t.”

No.

“Samuel, what intel do we have?” Vador asks calmly.

“The Saraf and most of their soldiers have moved back towardthe clans. He’s got people searching the land for the girl,” Samuel says. “Might actually be a good time to hit. They’ll be separated. We can pick most of them off along the way.”

Black spots appear in my vision.

“What about the girl?” asks Vador. “When you connected, did you find out anything we can use?”

“No,” Tristan says. “I was distracted with trying not to die.”

Someone snickers and says something I can’t make out.

“You’ll need to try again,” Vador says. “She’s our most valuable resource.”

“I have and I will,” Tristan says. “But she doesn’t trust me.”

“Then earn her trust.”

I huff a breath in disgust.Thisis why they’ve trapped me here. Who needs torture when Tristan can use the connection to access my memories or whatever’s in my head? I may not know Father’s tactical plans, but I know the layout of the clans. The faces of important people and their loved ones. I even know who’s been injured and whether it still lingers. Weaknesses can be measured in many ways.

With a jolt, the invisible cord between Tristan and me snaps tight. The sensation is similar to how it felt yesterday, when I accidentally sent a memory to Tristan’s mind.

A chair screeches. Someone’s coming. I startle and back up, only to bump into the table again. The blasted canister tips and rolls, smashing onto the floor. Glass shatters around my feet.

“What was that?” shouts one of the men.

I gulp a breath but running is futile. So using every last bit of strength, I square my shoulders and walk into the open doorway, meeting them head-on.

Tristan’s shocked face is the first I see in the war room–like space, filled with a long table and chairs. It matches the one in my home. Eight other pairs of eyes sweep over me, all of them pausing on my hand, still clutching the knife. Samuel and Ryland slowly reach for their weapons.

I turn back to Tristan’s tight face, but darkness swims in my vision. I blink and fall against the doorframe.

“What are you doing?” Tristan asks, with more concern in his eyes than makes sense. He’s an excellent actor. I make a mental note never to trust him again.

“I have news of your father,” I say coldly.

Tristan turns to stone.

“He’s dead.”

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