Page 83 of The Enemy's Daughter

“Sh-she,” I sputter. “She attacked me first. Enola! Check Enola. They hurt her.”

“Don’t listen. It was her who tried to kill Enola,” Annette screams.

Samuel’s gaze on me turns lethal. “I saw what you did with that knife.”

Blood drains from my face. “It’s n—”

“Take her to Tristan,” Ryland says calmly. “Get the truth from him. The connection won’t let her lie. I’ll stay with Annette.”

“No,” Annette screams. People have exited their homes to see what the commotion is all about, and Annette makes her plea to them. “We don’t need Tristan when there were four witnesses to her attack. Four nurses saw her try to kill Enola.” The people gasp, andAnnette grips her chest. “Look, I’m bleeding. What more evidence do you need that she tried to kill me?”

Samuel takes the reins of my horse and leads me away from the growing crowd.

“Samuel,” I beg. “You need to go to the hos—”

“Enough,” he snarls with such force my mouth snaps closed. “You think I’d believe you over her? I only want to hear from Tristan, and if even a fraction of what she just said is true, you’ve got another arrow coming your way.”

We travel the remaining distance in silence as I try to calm myself with deep breaths. This all will be over soon.

When we arrive, Samuel ties the horses, and then I lead the way through the front door. “Tristan,” I call, with Samuel following on my heels.

There’s a gust of wind, then a crash of a chair. Samuel hits the floor.

I spin around, confused.

“Isadora?”

I lift my gaze toward the voice—a voice I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear again. My world stops turning. Am I hallucinating?

“Liam?” I whisper.

27

Liam is quick to bind and gag Samuel and drag him into the war room. He returns, his face ablaze with the same anger I saw when he hunted Tristan and the elite guard in Tristan’s memory. It’s frightening and nothing like the man I know. “Are you okay?” he asks, thunder in his voice. His black hair is damp, and there’s sweat on his brow. There are also weapons all over his body. A sword and knives. Rope and a bow and quiver.

Where’s Tristan?

When I can’t speak, he grips my elbow and helps me farther into the house. “Do you need to sit?”

At the sight of the living room, my feet forget how to walk. Tristan and Dr. Henshaw are tied to kitchen chairs, their hands secured behind their backs. Gags keep them silent, or maybe it’s my brother standing in the corner with an arrow nocked in his bow. Percy nods at me in greeting, his white-blond hair tucked behind his ears.

“W-what are you doing?” I ask as blind terror erupts inside me.

Tristan’s urgent questions surge into my mind.

What happened?

Are you okay?

Thankfully, all this adrenaline seems to have sobered me somewhat from whatever drug Caro injected me with. I study the tied-up men. Dr. Henshaw’s nose is bleeding. There’s a cut on Tristan’s cheek, next to his eye.

“What are we doing?” Liam repeats my question, incredulous. “We’re here to take you home.”

They’re not taking you anywhere. Don’t worry. Tell me what happened.

I grip my head, struggling to think. Okay, maybe the drug is affecting me. I send Tristan an image of Enola lying facedown, then notice that Liam is watching me with a frown—I’m not giving him the excited welcome he hoped for. I lick my lips and force myself to look at him. “How did you find me?”

His eyes brighten. “I found this one”—he points to Tristan—“in the forest outside Hanook and followed him all the way to their fence. I overheard him say your name. It took another couple of days to get reinforcements and figure out the guard schedules, but we did. And now we’re here.”

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