Page 33 of Between Despair and Hope

“My name is Emmeline Vestana,” I whispered, and the man dropped his glass. “I’m trying to find Prince Cyran before they deliver him to his brother. I know soldiers delivered him here, to this very village, only a few hours ago. Why do you lie?”

I watched his throat bob as a clamoring in the hall behind him broke out. My hand was on my sword in an instant as Thyra and Dewalt flanked me.

It wasn’t until I heard her voice ring out that I realized Mairin hadn’t been with us.

“You’ll never guess who I found!” she sang before snorting like a pig. Pushing her way through the double doors behind Aldric, she led Prince Cyran out in front of her as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

Twenty minutes later, I was struggling to keep my eyes open as Cyran finished explaining what had happened after Shivani’s men took him.

“I was getting a bit of rest before having someone escort me back to the Cascade. I was going to ask that captain—Raj, I think his name was? To send me back to Astana.”

“Declan’s soldiers will be here at sunset, so he will need to be gone long before then,” Aldric said, a scowl deepening on his face. “Though I have no fucking idea why he’d want to go back to Astana when we have rebel forces gathering.”

I rubbed my hand over my face while Dewalt squeezed my shoulder. He’d been leading the conversation. Mairin had skipped to the door, locking any wandering villagers out, and I’d looked at the boy, dumbstruck, until Aldric offered to explain.

“You deceived Rivvens with only three men? He didn’t question you at all?” Dewalt asked.

“Aye, myself and two others. We intercepted one of the letters, so we knew the terms of the trade. I thought the boy was going to ruin it all by giving us the slip.”

Cyran looked up at me, a grim hint of a smile on his lips, before saying, “I split open his friend’s lip with my forehead.”

“You still plan to go back with them, Your Highness?” Aldric didn’t like the idea, and I didn’t know if I blamed him. Clearly, rebels in Folterra didn’t want Cyran in his brother’s hands as much as I didn’t. But I supposed sending him off to an enemy continent wasn’t much better. He was likely a symbol of hope to them, and though we’d be keeping him safe, I could see why the man would dislike it.

“Yes. I have…interests in Astana I must attend to.” His eyes met mine before his gaze dipped to the floor. “My brother sitting on the throne is abhorrent, I know. I do not want him there either.” The boy sighed, looking much older than his years, before rolling his shoulders back and lifting his head high. A royal gesture. “Once I’m finished in Astana, we can discuss what to do further. I trust we will keep in touch while I am gone.”

The boy could have escaped, worked to overthrow his brother, or hell, he could have disappeared if he wanted. After listening to his heart as he spoke, I knew he was telling the truth. He wanted to finish what we started with Elora.

“Let us rest for a short while before we head back?” I suggested, and my companions all nodded in agreement. Thyra offered to take the first watch as Aldric’s wife escorted us to two rooms at the top of the stairs, nestled cozily above the kitchen. Dewalt and Cyran went into one room while Mairin and I slipped into its twin across the hall.

We both laid there in silence, sunlight drifting in through the small circular window at the peak of the room. My divinity was buzzing, every part of me tense and ready to defend and attack. I’d been prepared to fight to get the boy back—not expecting Rivvens to be tricked by a rebel barkeep and his friends. It was pitiful, really, and the incompetence annoyed me, even if it had made my task easier. But that nervous energy still ran beneath my skin, and I struggled. I knew I should have been relieved, but my thoughts only turned toward what was to come.

Declan would find out, and he would act with aggression. I worried Lavenia wouldn’t be successful in commandeering forces. I worried they wouldn’t be at the Cascade in time to meet us. As it was, I couldn’t rift. I couldn’t do anything to get us to Declan faster. Was there any point of me going back to the Cascade? Nixy was the only soldier at the fortress who could rift, unless Lavenia brought more with her. It wasn’t as if he could rift the whole army. Sighing, I rolled over and allowed my shadows to grow within the room, blotting out the light shining in above me. Mairin didn’t react, and the soft snore I heard from her told me why she didn’t notice.

I knew it was pointless to go to Darkhold on my own—it would take far too long, and it was possible the Folterrans sent to fetch Cyran could rift, delivering news of what had happened before we arrived. The only responsible route forward was to go to the Cascade and pray to the gods the soldiers who could rift would get us there before Declan reacted rashly. Dark thoughts swirled, twisting and twining in my mind. Perhaps it was reckless to not trade Cyran. Declan wouldn’t have immediately executed his own brother—it was unlikely he knew of his deception—but the risk to Rain was monumental. What if I’d allowed it, and I’d been wrong? If I’d allowed the trade and Declan executed his brother along with the hope of my daughter one day waking?

I was damned no matter which choice I made. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I wasn’t made for this. I wasn’t cut out to develop strategies, to make difficult decisions about people I loved. I held so many lives in my hands with my choices, and I’d never asked for that. Not once. Stifling a sob so as not to wake Mairin, I cursed the gods for putting me in this position. For making me choose a path when all were uncertain.

I loved Rain desperately, but a small part of me couldn’t help but resent him for making this my reality. He’d put me in this position by not having faith in my ability to protect myself, even though it was something he’d promised to work on. That night in the tent, after we’d traversed the Cinturon Pass and before he traversed my body with gentle caresses and a wicked tongue, he’d told me he wouldn’t forget. But not even a moon’s turn later, he’d forgotten, risking himself without a thought. He hadn’t known the full extent of my power when he’d done it. He hadn’t known that Hanwen blessed me and cursed me with more divinity than I knew what to do with. Rain couldn’t have known what would happen with Ciarden when our daughter’s blood spilled on the wildflowers beneath her feet. He couldn’t have known what would have happened.

Even though he’d acted in my best interests, it hurt that this was happening because he thought I was incapable. I’d make sure once we got him back, Rain would see just how capable I was—how capable he’d forced me to become in his absence. And then I’d torment him with my own soft touches and wicked tongue, ensuring he would never forget again. It was thoughts of his future punishment which finally calmed me to sleep. Closing my eyes, I could hear his sighs, feel his calloused touch on my sensitive skin. I could hear his filthy words and his loving ones, the way he whispered my name before kissing that soft spot behind my ear. I longed for him, and I let myself drift off, hoping to meet him in my dreams.

Chapter 14

Rainier

OnemorningIwokeand looked across my cell to find Emma sitting against the wall. She had a cloak drawn tight around her, her head leaning back against the stone. Her cheeks were flushed that beautiful rosy pink I loved, and her eyes were closed. Had Declan let her come back to me?

“Are you alright, Em? Did he—do you feel alright?” I whispered, not wanting to wake her from sleep. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked angry.

“You’re awake. I have something I need to tell you, but you have to be strong for me.” She rose from the ground and approached on steady legs. Her long hair fell in beautiful waves down her chest, and she tugged on her cloak as if she were cold.

“Of course, yes. Please tell me.”

“He said if you can last twenty minutes without a sound, I’m allowed to tell you.” She crouched down in front of me and tilted my chin up with a bent forefinger. She smelled…off. Not herself. But I supposed that was because we were stuck in Darkhold. The scent was almost like juniper; I didn’t like it. “Do you think you can handle that, darling?”

I nodded.

I’d been in the contraption for longer; twenty minutes wasn’t bad. I was worried though, as I’d been eating the gruel again. The draíbea helped my nightmares, and I’d had plenty since he took her from me. I was afraid I wouldn’t remember what she needed to tell me. Perhaps it was about us getting out of here. I wanted to go home—with her.

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