Page 125 of Promise of Darkness
Behind me, the others continue to argue.
“We’re leaving,” Andraste announces, and the tone of her voice is wary.
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” I tell her. “I saw it. There were banes everywhere. Tents. The Hallow was nearly complete.”
Andraste looks at me, and I see the answer in her eyes. She thinks my mother’s telling the truth. She thinks Thiago used his powers of illusion to fool me. “I’m sure you saw what you claim. But there’s nothing here. How do you explain that? Think, Vi. Think with your head, and not your heart. He’s lying to you. He always has. He has you so wrapped up in knots, you can’t even see the truth anymore.”
I grab her arm. “Maybe I should ask you about lies? Because in this entire situation, the only one who’s told me the cursed truth has been him.”
“If Angharad did resurrect the Hallow, then where is it?” Edain demands, the insolence sloughing off him and revealing those cunning eyes. I sometimes forget he’s not the courtly sycophant he pretends to be.
“I don’t know.” I swallow hard, as I look around. I’m losing them. I know I am. “But it’s been five days since the alliance held their meeting. Angharad has spies everywhere. She may have been given warning….”
And that’s when my stomach drops right to my boots.
One queen has revealed access to dark magics she shouldn’t know.
One queen stood in that meeting and sneered at the truth, even though I’d already warned her.
One queen wants to destroy the Prince of Evernight at all costs.
What if my mother told Angharad what we had seen? What if Angharad dismantled the Hallow with magic?
What if they are workingtogether?
“We’re done here,” Andraste says softly, and she looks sincere. “I’m sorry, Vi. But this is our kingdom at stake. I have to report what I’ve seen. Edain, ready the boats.”
She tugs her arm free from my grasp, and turns away from me.
I take a step after her, before halting.
There’s no reaching her. No point even trying.
And I still haven’t forgiven her.
Once upon a time I would have stormed after her, but I’m tired of reaching out, only to have doors slammed in my face.
Thiago pauses at my side, his solid presence warming me.
“She doesn’t believe me.”
“She doesn’t want to believe you,” he replies. “If she does, then she must face your mother, and your sister doesn’t have the courage to do that. She’s too busy playing the dutiful daughter.”
“I don’t understand,” I tell him, looking around at the ruins. “I saw what I saw.”
“So, did I,” he replies grimly. “Come. These are dangerous territories. We need to return to camp, before we’re caught out in the open.”
“Wait.” Valarien of the Greenmantle. It’s not just a story. It’s a warning wrapped in a nursery rhyme in my court.
Never ride north,little fae, little fae;
For the wolves are a-calling, said they, said they.
Though you don’t see them, or smell them, they’re there;
With slavering teeth and brindled back hair.
I turn,staring through unblinking eyes.
