Page 95 of The Enemy's Daughter

“For... helping me.”

“Helping,” he repeats under his breath. “Isadora, the way you looked at him... Tell me I haven’t lost you.”

The ache in his voice pricks my chest. I don’t know what to say. What will he do when he finds out the truth?

“Do you know what I’ve done to—” He breaks off, looking distraught. “I became leader of Cohdor so we could have a chance to be together. I came for you in Kingsland because I thought you felt the same.”

My throat squeezes painfully tight. “Liam, I—”

“Don’t.” He roughly digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, then stops, leaving them shiny and rimmed in red. “I’m being selfish.”

I’m not following.

“You’ve been through so much. And helping people—even someone who took you captive—that’s what makes youyou. You take care of people.” He nods as if convincing himself. “You’re injured, and you must be exhausted. Come on, we need to get you home. Everything will be made right tomorrow.”

He resumes walking, and I follow, my legs hollow twigs that threaten to snap underneath me. We don’t speak another word until we ride into my yard. There are armed clansmen surrounding the perimeter. More than ever before.

Liam dismounts his horse, then offers to help lower me down from mine. I try to do it on my own, but my body is stiff with pain, and I nearly fall.

He catches me with ease, letting out a small laugh. “Should I carry you inside as well?” There’s a hopeful grin on his face.

I can’t return it. The lies are eating me alive. I stretch my feet toward the ground. “I can do it.”

He takes his time setting me down as if he doesn’t want to let me go.

My heart feels like a skinned knee.

The front door opens before we reach it, and Father appears under the log frame. He’s frowning, which is understandable—I did sneak out. But this is the first time he’s seen me since I waskidnapped.

I wait for a hug. For a sign of relief. Something. It doesn’t come.

Didn’t you miss me at all?

The sad part is that I know he missed me, just not for the reasonI want. I suspect he missed me in the way misplacing a shoe ruins your plans for a stroll. How inconvenient it must have been to lose the prize he’s been using to manipulate a psychopath.

“Father,” I say in greeting. Agitation bubbles under my skin.

His steely glare shifts from me to Liam. “We’re on high alert for an attack, and you two go out for a ride? I’d think her time is better spent resting so she can be ready for tomorrow, wouldn’t you agree?”

My muscles go rigid. Liam mentioned tomorrow too. What’s happening?

Liam nods, quick to accept blame. “You’re right, Saraf. I wasn’t thinking. Good night.” He leans in and kisses my cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

A chill sweeps down my spine as I watch Liam’s retreating form.

A squirrel chitters loudly. It sounds like a warning. My gaze snaps to the trees surrounding our home. To the cliff where Tristan often hid while he spied on us. The torches are lit, chasing away some of the shadows in our yard, but not all of them. Could Kingsland’s army be lying in the darkness about to strike?

Maybe I could find the elite guard and tell them where Tristan is being kept. Would that be enough to stop a massive attack? Perhaps if I dressed like a clan soldier and hid my hair, I could ride out tonight, even check other hiding spots Tristan’s shown me—perhaps Vador or Ryland is already here.

“Isadora. We need to talk,” Father says.

“Then talk,” I say, speeding past him, even though it hurts my neck.

And when you’re done, it’s my turn to speak.

In my room, I sit down on my bed, cross my arms, and wait.

He follows but stops in the doorframe. I look him over. His skin is like leather, tanned and worn. Ruined in spots from the sun. It’s especially visible in the deep crow’s feet around his blue eyes. His jawline is covered with a wiry white-and-blond beard that extends into the neck of his shirt. A few whiskers sprout overtop his bulbous nose and large ears. Add that to his intimidating size, and no one would ever accuse him of being handsome—not that I ever cared. He was my father. My Saraf. But now I also see him for who he is: a hardened soldier who’s weathered many battles.

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