Page 42 of Song of the Heart Scale
“She’s not your property!” I thundered. “And if you think I’ll stand by while you raise a hand to her again, you’ve grossly miscalculated who you’re dealing with.”
Lord Zacharia took a step forward, but I matched him.
“Move out of the way,” I commanded.
Hatred coiled in the minister’s eyes. “She’s not leaving this house until I say she can.”
Cat looked between us, the set of her jaw like carved stone.
“Then you’ll have to stop me,” I said coldly.
The guards by the doors shifted, uncertain. Lord Zacharia noticed and his expression twitched—just barely. Not with fear, but doubt.
“She’s undermyroof, undermycare.”
I snorted. “Then she’s in the wrong house.” I turned to Cat. “Let’s go.”
She hesitated for half a heartbeat before stepping to my side.
Lord Zacharia’s voice cracked like a whip. “Guards—”
“Try it,” I said without looking back. “Give them the order. Let them raise a hand to me. Let them try to touch her. Let’s see who makes it out of this hall still breathing.”
Silence.
Then—slowly—the guards stepped aside.
I took Cat’s hand and led her through the doors.
Lord Zacharia didn’t speak again, but I felt his glare burning into my back long after we’d passed out of sight.
The sun had barely crestedthe hills when we returned to Cat’s chambers, the tension from our confrontation with Lord Zacharia still clinging to our skin like smoke. Her steps were rigid, her jaw set, but I saw the flickers of emotion darting behind her eyes. Anger, frustration, a dash of panic she refused to let surface. She didn’t need to speak. I knew what she was thinking.
We had to leave.Now.
Maeve was already there, probably tipped off by Jacob, standing near the hearth with a stack of folded dresses in her arms. Her eyes widened when she saw us, but to her credit, she didn’t ask questions. She didn’t have to. She took one look at the bruises on Cat’s face and the rigidness in my posture and knew everything she needed to know.
“Take only the essentials,” I told her. “Nothing you can’t carry in one trip.”
Maeve briskly nodded and crossed to the wardrobe.
Cat opened her trunk with a grunt and tossed the lid back. “Never thought I’d be fleeing this place with you, of all people,” she muttered, kneeling to pull out a bundle of underthings and shoes.
“Strange world,” I said. “Stranger choices.”
“Don’t tempt me to regret them.”
I arched a brow. “You won’t.”
Maeve moved like lightning, folding dresses and gathering toiletries. Twenty minutes later, she was tying the last satchel shut and Cat was adjusting the strap across Maeve’s chest.
“The carriage is waiting,” Maeve said, slightly out of breath.
I nodded. “Let’s go.”
We swiftly moved through the halls, avoiding the main corridors and the curious eyes of the house staff. Maeve led the way through a side garden gate where the carriage was tucked between hedges like a secret waiting to be whispered.
Cat climbed in first, followed by Maeve, and I stepped in last, shutting the door firmly behind me. The wheels began turning a moment later, the horses trotting smoothly through the Northern District as the Ryder residence vanished behind us.
