Page 82 of The Enemy's Daughter

Not a single person is visible as Annette leads me down the stairs and we exit the house. More seeds of betrayal to take root. How many people were in on this?

We reach the horses. The sun is too pleasant and welcoming for this hellfire nightmare.

Annette stomps ahead of me. “I warned you something like this would happen if you didn’t follow through with leaving. Now get on the horse.”

Slowly, I mount Tristan’s thoroughbred, then pause as Annette unties my reins from the hitching post. It could be the drug coursing through my veins, making me bold—foolish—but why shouldn’t I try to make a break for it? She’d follow me, of course. But I’d only need to make it to Tristan. Tristan would get Enola help faster than any of these women will.

One look, and he’ll know everything. He’ll defend me.

Annette stills, her eyes hard with suspicion. But then she hurries to knot my reins around her saddle horn. “I promise you, if you don’t do this, I will go back and kill Enola myself.”

“Thetown’s treasured founding member? You wouldn’t.”

Her eyes turn wild. “I would. For Kingsland and the people I love that you’re brainwashing, I would do far worse.”

I study the proud tilt of her jaw, the anger burning in her eyes. No. I don’t believe her. If she’s willing to kill someone, then why hasn’t she killed me?

Because murderisthe line she won’t cross.

She takes off at a trot on the black pavement, forcing my horse to follow. The movement makes my head feel like it could roll off my shoulders onto a pillow of clouds. We reach the end of the street and pass the last house. I’m running out of time to find a way to get to Tristan.

“Tristan will never believe I did this to Enola,” I say.

“I’m willing to take that chance.”

I force a smile and hold it until she sees. “And if he comes after me?”

Her breathing hiccups. “He won’t.”

She wasn’t so confident the other night. “Why? Because you’re going to lock him in a room?”

“I think you overestimate your power over him. And you’re high; you sound like an idiot. You might want to shut up.”

I snort and lean forward in my saddle. “Your plan won’t work, you know. Tristan and I connected after you told him I was trying to leave. Hewillcome after me.”

Her head snaps in my direction.

“In fact, you talking to Tristan was the very thing that pushed us together. Why do you think I’m still here? We’re connected. And once he sees what you’ve done... which he will... then...”

Annette goes silent, her body stiff. I’ve hit her where she’s most vulnerable—hope. Hope that she and Tristan still have a chance. This was never about Kingsland and what’s best for her people. For Annette, this is all about her.

With a yank, I wrench on my reins tied to her saddle. They slip a little but not enough to come free. I go to pull again, but instead of making sure the knot holds, she draws a knife. I’m defenseless as her arm whips back and launches the blade at my face.

I flinch. We’re too close for any other response, but she makes a shockingly terrible throw. The blade lands with a thud, sticking into the thick leather of the saddle, inches from my leg.

Annette plunges her hand into the deep pocket of her work shirt and grabs another knife. I go for the one stuck in my saddle. Her arm pulls back to throw, but I’m faster. With a flick of my wrist, the knife lands true, impaling in her sternum, right between her breasts. She releases a cry of rage.

Distress douses me at the violent turn we’ve taken. The healer inme can’t help but assess her wound—I’ve likely only struck bone. Inconvenient. Painful. But not fatal.

It doesn’t slow Annette down. Winding back again, she throws her second knife.

There’s only time to duck and dig my heels into my horse’s side. It propels him forward, and Annette’s linked horse is forced to follow. Annette is jerked from the saddle and falls to the ground with another cry.

“What’s going on here?” shouts a deep voice, as a horse gallops toward me. It’s Samuel. Ryland follows, corralling me to the side, forcing me to a stop.

“She stabbed me,” Annette cries, pushing to her feet with a wobble. The knife is missing, but blood spots her shirt. “Look at what she did! Expel her from Kingsland. Now. Do it before she kills someone.”

Samuel whirls on me.

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