Page 3 of Bound By Deception

Gil’s lean face tightened. Glancing around him, he put his quill back in its pot and leaned toward her, whispering, “The prince?”

Bree stilled. She hadn’t told her brother of her mark, although rumors must have circulated Caisteal Gealaich in her absence. “Dead,” she murmured.

Gil frowned. A brittle silence fell between them, and Bree coolly observed her younger brother. He was disapproving and sanctimonious, but he was all she had—and she needed to tellsomeoneabout the mission Mor had just given her.

“I’ve got another assignment,” she said finally.

“Already?”

Bree dragged a hand down her face then as a heaviness settled over her. “Iwasplanning to take some time off,” she admitted, aware just how flat she sounded, how weary.

Gil arched an eyebrow. “Getting tired of spilling blood, are we?”

Bree scowled. “Never.”

“Come … you can’t tell me that hunting Grae didn’t prick your conscience. He wasn’t some faceless mark … youknewhim.”

Bree’s pulse quickened. As always, Gil knew exactly where to strike. Blades were her weapons, but his were words. Indeed, over two hundred and fifty years earlier, when they’d been younglings, Grae had been a friend. But that was a long time ago—before he turned on his elder sister—and she preferred not to dwell on their past friendship.

“It’s just a job, Gil,” she replied after a pause, before lifting a hand and gesturing dismissively to their surroundings. “You spend your days with your nose in boring, dusty tomes … and I eradicate problems.”

Heat kindled in her brother’s tawny eyes, and Bree swallowed a vindictive smile.

“You know who you sound like?” her brother asked, folding his arms in front of him. “Father.”

Bree stiffened. That was a low blow. “I’m nothing like him,” she muttered.

Gil huffed a bitter laugh. “Aye, you are. You have the same arrogance … and intolerance.”

Bree glared at her brother. “You forget, we werebotha disappointment to him,” she pointed out. Indeed, both their parents had been warriors to the core and their father hadn’t wanted an archivist for a son,ora lowly assassin for a daughter.

“Maybe, but he too never missed the opportunity to belittle my choice.”

Bree fell silent, uneasiness shifting under her ribs. Was she like him? Shades, she hoped not. As soon as she’d come of age, she’d done everything she could to break free of her father’s oppressive rule—to forge her own path.

Awkward moments slid by, and Bree shoved thoughts of her father aside. It was time to bring the subject back to her new job.

Straightening up, she removed her feet from the table and pulled her chair close to her brother. His nose wrinkled, letting her know that she did, indeed, reek. She pretended not to notice his reaction and murmured, “This assignment isn’t like the rest … this time I’m working as aspy.”

Gil inclined his head.

“Mor’s sending me to Duncrag … I’m to wed the High King’s chief-enforcer.” She swallowed then. Ancestors, her mouth and throat were parched. She really needed that apple wine.

Her brother’s brows knitted together. “Mor wants you to live amongst the Marav?”

“Aye.”

“But I thought she already had a spy at Duncrag?”

“She did … but he’s gone silent. Now it seems the chief-enforcer hasorderedhimself a wife … and I’m toreplace her.”

Gil’s mouth pursed. “A Maid of Albia?”

Bree nodded, even as her stomach hardened at the thought of impersonating such a fawning individual. Marriage was rare amongst their kind—the Shee preferred to take lovers or long-term consorts—yet the Marav did things differently. And some men, usually those with deep pockets, bought themselves a 'Maid of Albia’—a young woman schooled to be the perfect wife.

The cat-like pupils of Gil’s golden eyes narrowed. “Does this mean you’ll have to walk through a stone circle as well … to become one ofthem?” Distaste laced his voice now. Like her, Gil had little love for the mortal race who lived beyond the veil.

In the old tongue, ‘Marav’ meant ‘the dead’. Indeed, their lifespans were pitifully short. Even the longest-lived amongst them rarely reached a hundred years, while the oldest of the Shee was said to have lived six thousand years. Time held a different meaning for their people.

---