Page 38 of Hidden

Rafe froze, as if seeing the graves made the death of his packmates real. He set down the basket of greenery, all but dropping it before it touched the ground. Then he hesitantly stepped around it, slowly moving to stand among his buried kin. Every line of his body held grief, but he did not speak a word.

Lila swallowed hard, fighting a piercing ache inside her. Rafe bent, placing a palm upon the freshly turned earth, as if speaking to his dead.

He had been right. Neither of them had bargained for this—either the losses or the possibilities. Her lips still felt the pressure of his. He had firmly responded, but the episode unsettled her. Somewhere between her arrival at the way station and this burial site, the landscape of her world had become something she didn’t recognize.

Lila bent over the basket, carefully moving the holly aside before sorting through the cuttings. She picked out an armful of the wild peas and shooting stars that bloomed wild along the lakeside and began laying them on the graves. She came to a stop beside Rafe, who remained still and silent as if in shock. Lila put a hand on his arm.

He drew in a long breath and let it out in an angry gust. “Why did this happen?”

“Someone has a secret,” she replied. “Whatever it is, it’s not worth this many lives.”

A twig cracked. They both turned toward the path leading to the small clearing. Lila tensed, readying a spell, while Rafe stepped to one side. They’d both want room to move if it came to a battle—and by unspoken agreement, they were facing that fight together.

For a long moment, there was only the hush of wind in the leaves broken by an occasional footfall. Then Lila’s breath caught as Ademar emerged from the trees, leaning on a tall walking stick. Fae usually moved without a sound, but his injury explained why they’d heard his approach. He looked haggard, the sheer weight of the healing spells and amulets upon him turning his complexion a waxy hue. His gray eyes took in the two of them and the flowers on the graves in one disapproving sweep.

“What are you doing up and walking this far from the house?” Lila asked in surprise.

“I came to the woods to heal,” her brother replied, his tone curt. “Or have you forgotten how to be a fae of the forest?”

Lila didn’t respond as Ademar looked again at the mounded earth. “By the Abyss, these are the dead shifters.”

“They are,” she said quietly, grateful that Rafe kept silent. Maybe it was enough that Ademar sounded subdued.

“I don’t understand what happened here,” her brother mused.

“I don’t know either,” she replied. So far, all she’d uncovered was a tangled mass of fae politics. Had it been Lord Farras? Captain Teegar? “Why would anyone kill these wolves?”

Ademar raised his chin. “I wasn’t speaking of the dead. I was wondering aloud why you brought your prisoner to this place.”

Lila opened her mouth to protest, but then bit back the words. She could feel Ademar’s loathing for Rafe as if it were a touchable thing. She understood it, but it was every bit as dangerous as the wolf’s fangs.

“My prisoner is wearing spelled bracelets,” she said evenly. “You know that.”

Her brother frowned. “Even so, I question bringing him to an outdoor location where escape is easy—and he does seem to specialize in picking locks.”

Annoyed, Lila busied herself tidying her basket. “It’s my call.”

“Are you certain about that?” Ademar moved toward her, leaning heavily on his staff. The white wood was carved in a pattern of leaves and vines set with glittering quartz. “Are you certain of your decision to bring a dangerous captive to the one place guaranteed to rouse his resentment of us?”

His words struck deep, mostly because Lila shared that doubt. The difference between them was her willingness to believe an outsider’s word. She straightened, doing her best to keep her temper. “I’ll take that risk.”

“But the rest of us disagree. Your duty to family comes first, and that includes keeping your prisoner secure.”

“Has it occurred to you that a killer is loose in the area, and I may require protection?”

“He’s wearing cuffs,” Ademar replied, his tone flat.

“The cuffs won’t stop him from defending whoever holds the key.” She put her hand to her throat, where the key hung on its chain. “Where is this coming from? As little as I like it, I’m decorating your halls and preparing a chamber for his lordship. There’s no reason to dog my steps with your accusations.”

Ademar’s smile was sharp. “No one doubts your ability to fluff a pillow.”

“If I can’t be trusted, then don’t give me the responsibility,” she shot back. “I did not ask for it and would sooner be on my way back home. In fact, that is exactly where I’m going the moment this is over.”

Ademar gripped her arm, just as Rafe had minutes ago. The wolf had been gentler, and Lila gave an involuntary yelp.

“You’ve had your own way far too long,” her brother snapped.

Rafe had been a statue until that moment. Now, as fast as any fae, he grabbed Ademar and flung him back from Lila. Ademar flew, arms spread, before the bushes at the edge of the clearing broke his fall. Lila cried out, cradling her bruised arm even as she sprang forward to help her brother.

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