Page 11 of Hidden

Lila flinched at the words, or maybe it was the unfamiliar bitterness in her mother’s voice. With a visible effort, Galeeta drew herself up and signaled to the robed figures. The two servants straightened, like hounds ready to give chase.

“Take Ademar upstairs,” she ordered. “Quickly.”

They sprang forward, moving in eerie unison. Lila rose and backed away, reluctant to be near them. There was something unnatural in their movements that made her think of long-legged spiders.

Galeeta gestured toward the unconscious intruders sprawled on the floor. “When you’re done, remove those two. You don’t need to be gentle.”

Lila followed the procession to the upper level of the way station. Once Ademar was in his own room, the servants vanished to deal with the intruders as well as the unconscious guards. Lila took a seat in the room across from her brother’s, leaving her mother to work her healing magic on Ademar’s wound. That had beenminutes ago, and then the minutes had stretched into hours. The night slid by, time oddly elastic. Eventually, Lila rose to watch the heavy moon tangle in the branches of the forest beyond the windowpane.

It was impossible to know how long she stood there, fatigue and distress robbing her strength. She had left her apartment only a few hours ago, hoping to find Ademar buried in his work and forgetful of details like food and drink.

It had happened before. The vampires who’d frightened Sala might well have been collecting an unpaid bill. Her older sister had a tendency to panic whenever she had to deal with anyone but another fae. Lila had fielded a few such mini-dramas without complaint—it kept her in touch with family to a bearable degree. She loved them and missed them—missed the daily sense of belonging to a tribe, even if it drove her crazy—but she had no intention of vanishing down the House Fernblade rabbit hole, never to see her real life again.

So, yes, she’d expected to return home tonight in time for a midnight movie and bed. She hadn’t expected two sets of attackers in what should have been a safe space. Certainly not a fight that left her brother severely injured.

Lila yawned, exhausted despite the nervous energy coursing through her body. It had been months since she’d used real magic, and she’d lost her stamina. Ademar would say she was going soft.

She closed her eyes, imagining her brother’s frown as he said it. This time, anger rose instead of grief. She’d questioned Ademar’s actions when she’d first arrived, but now her loyalty was roused. Her brother had been wounded defending fae territory against a werewolf who couldn’t have entered the hidden way station by chance. Someone had sent it—him—and by the Abyss, she’d find out who was responsible.

She turned from the window, needing action. The house was perfectly silent. For a disoriented moment, she wondered if everyone else had left—or simply vanished like ghosts in an old fireside tale. Even her mother’s servants were nowhere in sight.

Lila crossed the hall to Ademar’s bedroom door and pressed her ear to the wood. There was no sound. A morbid fear seized her, and she pushed the door open, expecting the worst.

Ademar lay unmoving under the silken bedcovers, his hands limp at his sides. The regular rise and fall of his chest said he was asleep. A knot between Lila’s shoulder blades released, and she took another step across the thick wool carpet.

Light from the bedside lamp pooled around Ademar, leaving the rest of the large room in shadow. The black and white furnishings stood like phantoms, a discarded coat and empty mug the only signs of disorder.

Her brother was alone, which meant Galeeta must have slipped away unnoticed. Lila knew healing as well as her mother did, although she lacked the centuries of experience that made Galeeta an acknowledged master. So, Lila hovered by the bed, wanting to inspect his leg but afraid to disturb her mother’s healing work. The bleeding had clearly stopped, but a wound like that... Lila pressed her hand to her stomach, suddenly queasy. Her brother was light on his feet, a swordsman of exceptional ability. Was. Had been. She didn’t know how much to fear.

“I’m proud of you,” said her mother.

Lila spun. Galeeta stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame as if she needed support. Like all the Fernblade fae, her face was elegantly sculpted, with gray eyes and light gold hair. Healing drained the practitioner in a way other magic did not. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, stark against the unusual pallor of her skin.

“What did I do?” Lila asked, almost startled. Galeeta rarely praised anyone, much less her wayward daughter.

“You struck down the wolf. I didn’t think you had the courage for that.” The words were quiet, suitable for a sickroom, but they still had the sting of a two-edged compliment.

“I trained in combat,” Lila replied. “I served my time, like everyone else.”

“A few years in the auxiliary guard is one thing. Real combat is another matter.” Galeeta swept forward, taking the chair next to Ademar’s bed. The lamplight shimmered on her gown’s silver trim. “You showed your true colors tonight. You’re one of the family, after all.”

Lila flinched inside, but the pain quickly flared to anger. “Just because I choose to live in the city instead of the palace doesn’t change the fact that I love my family.”

Galeeta gave a dismissive shrug. “I never know what to expect from you, daughter.”

It was an old, old argument about obedience and duty. She’d moved away to escape the conversation, and she wasn’t about to resume it now. “Expect that I’ll sit by your side tonight and keep you company.”

“Very well.” Galeeta studied her sleeping son. “You literally snatched him from the jaws of death. I hope I can save his life.”

“How bad is the injury?”

“Time alone will tell, but he heals well. Only one scar from that duel with Lord Patrus. Otherwise, he is perfect.”

“Nonsense. He is entirely perfect. The best of brothers.” Lila had almost forgotten the duel between Ademar and the spiteful lordling. Patrus had learned the hard way that when Lila said no, she meant it. Her only regret was not skewering him herself.

“Immortals bear unhealed wounds forever,” Galeeta said softly. “I hope with all my heart this fresh injury mends.”

Emotion quickened Lila’s breath—a wave of something between protectiveness and rage. The wolf had much to answer for, sneaking in where he didn’t belong. What had he and the vampire been doing here? Spying? Thieving?

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