Page 1 of Bound By Deception

1: THE QUEEN’S ASSASSIN

Caisteal Gealaich

The Realm of Sheehallion

THE SEVERED HEAD stank—badly.

Screwing up her nose, Bree slid off the stag’s back, her gaze shifting to the sack that hung from her mount’s withers. The blood staining the thick linen had turned the cloth dark, and fat flies now buzzed around it.

Even the musky scent of rose, from the delicate white buds that climbed the walls surrounding the outer ward of Caisteal Gealaich, couldn’t disguise the sweet, putrid odor of decay.

Take that foul thing off me.

Bree deftly untied the rope holding the sack fast.Sorry about that, Tiv.

In response, the mighty white stag tossed his head, glad to be free of the grisly prize they’d brought back from the north.

I know. she patted Tivesheh’s sleek neck.The stench turns my stomach too … but Mor wants proof.The stag’s dark eyes met hers, and their gazes held for a moment before she gently touched his mind with hers once more.You did well … thank you.

Tivesheh snorted and tossed his head.I will be waiting for your call.

Bree stepped back from the stag then, allowing him to turn and bound away. Tivesheh left the fortress through a vast gateway, where two sentries stood, their silver helms gleaming in the bright sunlight. Bree watched him go. After nearly two turns of the moon traveling, and hunting, with the stag, it felt strange to be parted from him. However, all she had to do was whistle, and Tivesheh would come once more.

She could always rely on him.

Shaking herself free of the odd mood that had suddenly descended upon her, Bree tightened her hold on the top of the sack and swiveled on her heel. Then, leather creaking and soft-soled hunting boots whispering on smooth white moonstone, she crossed to one of the sentries standing at the foot of the sweeping steps leading into the fortress. “Where’s the queen?”

The male’s mouth pinched slightly, his cool gaze traveling over Bree.

His assessment made irritation spike through her. She knew she likely looked, and smelled, terrible. She’d barely slept over the past few days—such was her haste to return to Caisteal Gealaich.

Her appearance didn’t matter though, and she had no time for this underling’s scorn. Suffering his stare a few moments longer, Bree’s free hand strayed to the hilt of the long hunting dagger at her hip. This guard knew who she was. It was foolish indeed to insult the queen’s assassin. “The queen?” she repeated.

“Her Highness is in the garden,” he replied, sullen now.

Not bothering to thank him, Bree turned and stalked across the swathe of slippery white cobbles that led toward a rose-covered archway.

Entering the walled garden beyond, she made her way through an arbor where even more white roses trailed overhead. Like all the Shee, the Raven Queen loved these flowers and spent much time tending the roses herself in this garden. Raising her chin, Bree sucked in their rich, musky scent—anything to try and escape the reek of decomposing flesh.

However, she didn’t slow her determined stride.

She was at the end of her mission now and just wished to rid herself of the evidence she’d brought, so she could sink up to the neck in a hot bath and enjoy a tall goblet of chilled apple wine. It would be a relief to put this job behind her—although soap and water wouldn’t scrub away all the blood she’d spilled.

Bree’s mouth thinned.It’s too late now to worry about that.

And it was. How many souls had she dispatched over the years at Mor’s command? She’d stopped counting after two dozen.

Bree found the Raven Queen standing before the fountain at the heart of the garden.

Fashioned of moonstone, like everything at Caisteal Gealaich—from its high walls to the pavers that lined the garden paths—the fountain was of a huge corvid.

Mor stood silently, her gaze upon the water that spilled from the Great Raven’s open beak, tinkling over the stones below. A real raven, its glossy blue-black feathers gleaming in the golden late afternoon light, perched upon the queen’s shoulder. Eagal—Mor’s trusted messenger.

Bree halted a few yards back from her queen and cleared her throat. “Your Highness.”

Mor jerked out of her reverie and turned, her obsidian gaze widening when it settled upon her assassin. “Bree,” she greeted her, stepping away from the fountain. “Finally.”

Bree dipped her head, even as she fought a frown. “Grae led me on quite a chase, Your Highness,” she replied, holding the sack aloft. “But I have his head.”

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