Page 4 of Bound By Deception

“Aye,” Bree replied with a shudder. Her skin crawled at the thought. “Unfortunately.”

“Can’t you just glamor yourself?”

Bree shook her head. “Not if I’m to wed an enforcer.” Her pulse spiked then. She wasn’t sure what was worse, being forced to rut with the most powerful of the warrior-druids or becoming a sniveling Marav woman. Once she passed through the stones, she’d be living in a frail mortal body. “He’ll see right through it.”

Gil sat back in his chair, observing her with a veiled gaze. “So, you’re going to pretend to be a loving wife … to ingratiate yourself with the chief-enforcer and wheedle his secrets from him?”

“Aye,” she muttered, screwing her face up even as her pulse quickened. “Something like that.”

Her brother gave a dry laugh. “You won’t last the distance.”

Bree’s stomach clenched. “Excuse me?”

“You’re as cold as an Albian winter, sister. You’re incapable of getting close to anyone … and evenfeigningit will be a challenge.” Gil’s gaze glinted. “Aye, our queen holds you in high esteem … but I fear she overestimates you now.”

Bree sucked in a deep breath, heat washing over her.Pompous, self-righteous ass.Her hands clenched at her sides as she fought the instinct to lash out and knock that smug look off his face. How dare he look down his nose at me?

Nonetheless, her brother’s harsh comment held a vein of truth. She was used to hunting and killing, not cozying up to warrior-druids and pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

With just a few words, Gil had exposed the anxiety that had flowered inside her ever since Mor had given her this job.

They both knew the Raven Queen should have chosen someone else.

Dusk was settling as Bree made her way up to her quarters. When the queen’s assassin was in residence at Caisteal Gealaich, she lived in a lofty tower. It was a journey—nearly a thousand steps—to the top, but despite that her mind and body felt unusually heavy this evening, Bree made the climb easily.

All the Shee were blessed with strength and endurance, and Bree was barely out of breath when she let herself into her quarters.

Golden light pooled on the pristine pavers through the open window, gilding the simple yet elegant furnishings within: a largecanopied bed and furniture fashioned from oak and moonstone. As expected, servants had been up here already. Despite that it was never cold in Sheehallion, a fire flickered in the hearth. The servants had also lugged up water from below and used the fire to heat it for her bath—a large stone tub of steaming water awaited her before the window.

Bree heaved a deep sigh.

Unfastening the long dagger from around her waist, she placed it on the table by the doorway. She then unstrapped the knives at her thighs and removed the various blades sheathed in her boots and on her torso, before stripping off her stinking leathers and walking naked over to the bath.

As she’d hoped, a goblet and a ewer of apple wine sat upon the low table next to the tub. Moisture beaded on the ewer’s bronze surface, indicating that the wine was properly chilled.

Despite her dark mood, Bree’s mouth curved.Small pleasures.

Settling into the hot water with a sigh, she poured herself a generous goblet of wine, raised it to her lips, and drained it in a long draft. She welcomed the wine’s coolness, its crisp sweetness. Usually, she savored it after a job was done, but not this evening. With another, heavy, sigh, she poured herself a second goblet and drained that too before sinking down into the silky water. The scent of musky rose, from the oil a servant had added to the bath, enveloped her, and she drew it deep into her lungs.

It was a beautiful spot to take a bath, by the large teardrop-shaped window that had a view across the meadows west of the fortress. The setting sun now gilded the sculpted edges of the great mountains beyond. However, the spectacular view, soothing hot water, and numbing wine couldn’t make her forget her situation.

“Mor is making a mistake,” she muttered then, her voice carrying across the silent chamber. “I’m an assassin … not a spy.”

She hadn’t admitted such to her brother—and she’d have had her tongue ripped out before doing so—but shehadattempted to suggest the Raven Queen select someone with more experience in subterfuge. Nonetheless, Mor wouldn’t hear of it. “This job requires spine, Bree,” she’d cut her off. “You’re the only one I trust not to disappoint me”

Despite being cocooned by hot water, Bree shivered. There had been a warning in those words, for no one disappointed the Raven Queen twice.

Mor hadn’t given her much of a reprieve either. She’d be leaving soon, for the spring equinox was just three days away. There were no seasons here in Sheehallion—the climate remained forever warm and springlike—but Albia was different. On the other side of the veil, the Marav were readying themselves to celebrate The Day of the Hag, when the world shifted from winter to spring. The three stone circles that linked the realms only opened at certain times of the year.

Bree’s breathing grew shallow then at the thought of going anywhere near a stone circle. Her people avoided them for a reason; these places were infused with druidic magic. However, she needed to put her aversion aside. If she missed the next opening, she’d have to wait until Bealtunn, which was one and a half turns of the moon away—by which time, it would be too late.

The chief-enforcer’s bride-to-be had just set off toward the capital. Bree had been ready to intercept her, although Mor had instructed her Ravens—the queen’s personal bodyguards—tokill the woman instead. They’d then meet Bree in Albia, at The Ring of Caith.

Everything was already in motion.

Bree slid down in the tub, so that water lapped her chin, and closed her eyes. Numbness settled over her then, and a heaviness pulled at her limbs.

Here we go again.

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