Page 10 of The Enemy's Daughter

My eyes meet hers. “Freia, Ineedto go. Freddy doesn’t even know what half those herbs are used for.”

She swallows hard. “What am I going to tell your mother? Oh, skies, don’t leave me alone with your mother.”

I give a tight grin. “Tell her what we talked about. That if Liam dies, there is no marriage. That’s what I intend to save.” I pull my best friend into a fierce hug, and the scent of her lavender hair oil fills my nose. A sharp ache of fear stabs my chest at the thought ofleaving. “And tell her everything Freddy said. The clans need to ready for an attack.”

Freia frowns as I pull back, but instead of arguing, she surprises me. “Don’t get murdered or I’m marrying Liam.”

A tense laugh bursts out of me. “That’s not what I was expecting, but... okay. Deal.”

4

After saddling my horse, Midas, I ride hard past the boundary of my yard on a beaten path into the trees. It opens to a small clearing with a large metal post staked in the ground—a place I go out of my way to avoid. Bile rises in my throat at the ashes and black scorched grass at the base of it, all that remains of the traitors who’ve been burned alive. Though I’ve never watched a trial and punishment of a clansman, I’ve heard the screams of the guilty when a clan leader, almost always Gerald, lights the fire. Yet another reason Gerald haunts my dreams. Gripping the reins tighter, I push Midas faster through the clearing.

Before long, Freddy is within sight, and I pull back, allowing more distance between us. I’m not giving him a chance to tell me to turn around. Unfortunately, the swift pace of our horses isn’t sustainable for long, and too soon we slow to an infuriating trot.

Reducing our speed makes it more likely I’ll be stopped by a patrolling clansman, and I don’t know what I’ll do if that happens—maybe lie that I have permission to leave? But as we ride past our boundary lines without an issue, I realize there will be no patrol: allof our soldiers have been moved to the front line.

After more than an hour of traveling, my body is a strung bow of tension. Liam said it’s a two- to three-hour ride to the Kingsland, but the fighting is happening somewhere in between. We must be getting close.

The spring air has a cold heaviness to it that matches the overcast sky. Since I’ve never been out this way before, I study the expanse of trees as if I’ve entered a foreign land. I find nothing but familiar northwestern forest that looks the same as home. I suppose even the badlands, a name we gave to any place poisoned or laid waste by the bombs, wouldn’t look much different, especially now that nature has had time to regrow and conceal some of the devastation. Only the rubble of the soaring buildings and skeletons of their looted cities remain.

That is, if you survive having your throat slit to see it.

A chill sweeps over my skin at the reminder that violent vagabonds often wander between our lands in search of people to rob or kill. It’s a good thing I’m not alone. I look up to relocate Freddy ahead but find only trees. My spine straightens. I strain to see farther as painful seconds pass. Though I’ve lost sight of him repeatedly by trying to keep my distance, this time feels different. With a click of my tongue, I push Midas to gain some speed, but then slow. I don’t know which way to go.

The breeze rattles the branches like dry bones clinking together, and when a twig snags my long braid, I jump.

Suddenly, a man’s scream cuts through the forest, and every hair on my body stands on end. My head spins to the left, then right, as Midas spooks underneath me, skittering sideways. Her ribs crush my leg against a tree. Gritting my teeth, I press on, my knuckleswhite on the reins. “Shhh,” I soothe, though I’m far from calm myself.

Every stripped limb and broken stump looks like a man. The enemy. My breath comes faster as I guide Midas around a fallen log, and then I see something. A body. It’s there at the base of a small hill, some fifty feet away.

It’s a miracle I don’t cry out.

Is it Liam? Father? After a scan of my surroundings, I jump down and tie Midas to a tree. Cautiously, I inch closer until I notice the man’s red hair. My lungs start to work again. I shouldn’t be relieved that no one I care about has that color, but I am. Then my eye is drawn to the gaping slash that spans the width of his belly. He lies in a puddle of blood. I don’t need to touch him to know he’s dead. There’s a lightning symbol carved into his bow, and he’s wearing a vest covered with weapons. He’s from the Maska clan.

I bow my head, not sure what to do. Do I leave him for the wild animals? Do I even have a choice? I can’t imagine a way to get him on my horse. Perhaps I just need to find another clansman and tell them—

Something moves in my peripheral vision. I crouch. It’s a man in all black. Brown hair. Unfamiliar face. I’m lucky I saw him, because I certainly didn’t hear him. The stealth of his movements as he slips through the forest sends a shiver up my spine. His jacket gives him away: a dark, almost shiny fabric instead of worn flannel, denim, or leather.

Kingsland.

He could be looking for a clansman to fight, but there’s something about his pace that makes me question that. He’s not searching for anyone. His focus is on what’s in front of him.

And he’s headed toward Hanook.

Oh, blazing sun, no. I quietly pull my knife and slink along in his wake, Freia’s words on repeat in my head.Don’t get murdered.Don’t get murdered.But three steps in, my foot hits a patch of dried pine needles with a crunch. His head swivels in my direction. I’m forced to make my move.

“Stop! Or I’ll... throw this at you,” I shout.

He halts, keeping his back to me, hands open at his sides. His head drops a little and shakes, almost like he’s laughing to himself. There’s a bow and a fancy strap full of arrows for a quiver fastened to his back.

I move closer as my heart crashes with bruising force against my ribs. “Drop to your knees and toss me your bow.”

His fingers twitch toward his bulging leg pocket, but he doesn’t make a move.

“Drop to your knees, or I promise you I’ll—”

He jerks to the side, darting for cover.

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