Page 112 of Between Despair and Hope

“No, don’t bother. She’s to the north. It has to be the Nordingtree mill.”

He stepped back from me, attempting to open a rift.

“Fuck!” he shouted, punching a hole in the wall when he couldn’t do it. Shadows whipped around his body before he banished them within a second. It was the fastest I’d ever seen him control them. If he wouldn’t have beat my head in, I would have commended him for it. But he was too stressed to open the rift, knowing she might be in danger. I needed to walk him through it.

“Feel for the bond. She’s there. Focus on it, and stay calm. Breathe in.”

“It’s not that. I don’t remember the mill. It’s been years. I’ve stayed away from the capital for too long. Fucking hell. I don’t remember it.” He trailed off, voice going quiet.

“Then we’ll ride. I’ll grab us some horses. You’ll have to give me a few minutes; I doubt I’ll find any on Tembris.”

“It’s at least an hour’s ride. Dickey, how long has it been since you were supposed to meet her here?”

The boy dipped outside to get an eye on the clock tower. “Just under two hours,” he said, coming back a moment later. It had taken Dickey some time to run to the palace and get through the various guards to speak to me. And, of course, I’d been all the way at the barracks, on the other side of the grounds from Shivani’s quarters.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Go back in time and tell me my wife wanted to heal people in the gods damned Wend.”

I understood his anger, but now was not the time. “This could have happened anywhere. Fuck, the Bell Street Butcher from a few years ago lived in the fucking Brigand, Rainier. That’s the nicest neighborhood in Astana. Poor men aren’t the only men who abuse women.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel any better, you fuck?”

“I should have told you, but I thought she’d be smarter than just going off on her own.” He lifted his eyes to mine and stared blankly. “Alright, fair,” I said, and Dickey snorted behind me.

“Just give me a minute to remember,” Rainier said, as he slammed his body down onto a wooden chair.

Shivani came in a moment later, and the child followed behind her, tentatively sneaking out behind her billowing dress.

“Robbie says his Mama has been asleep since Papa came home and told him to get out of their room. They were yelling a lot. Do you want to tell them what happened after?” She knelt beside the boy, and I felt a pang. I’d never seen her be soft like that to Ven, let alone Rainier.

“Papa left for a while but came back with a wagon. He said Mama was sick and a lady would come help her. Is she gonna be alright? She wouldn’t wake up. Is she dead?”

“Oh, darling. We will talk about that in a few minutes, but can you finish telling them what you told me?” Shivani closed her eyes, pained, as if she didn’t want to force the child to keep talking. Wanting to comfort him instead. It was out of character for her. He gulped, nodding as he brushed his long, ratty hair out of his face—dark brown with hints of red.

“He hurt the lady who came to help Mama. Papa made me wait in the garden, and then he hit her when she came out. He put her in the wagon with the other man and left.”

“The other man?” Rainier inquired, quick and precise. The boy jumped, moving behind Shivani.

“Did you know the other man? Does he work with your papa?” Shivani asked, rubbing a hand down the boy’s arm.

“No. It’s the man who usually wears white.”

Fuck.

“From the temple?” Shivani prodded, and the boy dipped his head.

The ground trembled once more.

Chapter 34

Emmeline

Iwokewithaknife to my throat as someone shoved a gag into my mouth. My hands were bound, nearly numb, and I could barely move. Freezing, I glanced down, relieved to find myself fully clothed, though my cloak was halfway torn. Covered in a fine layer of snow, I was drenched. My braid soaked through my shirt, heavy against my chest, and my breath puffed out in a cloud in front of me.

Ignoring the man who knelt beside me, I blinked, my vision doubling. My back was pressed against a stone wall, and water trickled nearby. Light filtered in through cracks in the wooden walls across from me, and a few snowflakes drifted down from the ceiling. Looking around, I saw sacks of what appeared to be flour leaning against the wall. It couldn’t have been long since I was taken; my head didn’t hurt bad enough for me to have been knocked out for an extended time. The knife pressed harder against my throat, right across the artery. One wrong move, and I’d be dead.

But I could still use my divinity. Wary of the knife held to my throat, I chose to do something discreet with it while I found my bearings. Closing my eyes, I willed it to heal the back of my head where I could tell my scalp had split, dripping blood into my hair. I shivered, and the man in front of me laughed, the scent of alcohol on his breath.

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