Page 87 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“Thank the Mother,” she whispers, before reaching out and taking my hands in hers. “Jayne said you would be here, that you would help us.”

I take a deep breath and nod. Jayne had promised she would tell those in need there was a way out, but I hadn’t expected anyone to actually come. There is such a feeling of fear that I hadn’t truly believed anyone would disobey the king, but I suppose people are much more motivated when their children are at risk.

“Do you need to escape? It won’t be easy,” I warn. After all, these people are giving up their home, money, and a relatively safe life for one on the run with no certainties.

“Yes, I could never choose a child to sacrifice to slavery. It’s a death sentence,” she states firmly, and I know she’s ready, that she will give up everything for her children. I gesture to the fountain next to me with a nod of my head, my hands still held tightly in her own.

“Then we can help you. Just next to me is a shield, a type of magic that will hide you from view. My...friend, Tor, will help you escape and help you get somewhere safe,” I explain, and she looks over, frowning slightly at first when she can’t see anything, but she nods her understanding as I finish. Raising my hands, she kisses them gently, bowing her head reverently.

“Thank you so much, beloved.”

Hearing her call me that is like a physical blow. How did she know that’s what the Mother calls me, and why is she acting like I’m her saviour? Taking a deep breath, I try to pretend like this doesn’t affect me and grab one of her hands, leading her into the shield, her children trailing closely behind. They look around the space with wide eyes and open mouths, wondering at the magic, before staring up at Tor. The children cower behind their mother, clinging to her legs. I understand their fear, Tor does look pretty intimidating with his tattoos, half of his head shaved,and the other half braided and hanging down past his shoulders. The maid glances over at me as if for reassurance. Nodding my head, I smile at her gently. “This is Tor, he’ll help you.”

Looking down at her children, she rests her hands on their heads, comforting them with a gentle touch. “Don’t be frightened. This is a friend of the beloved,” she whispers to the children who simply nod, as if that is enough for them to know they’re safe. Their confidence in me is mind-blowing, and I’m struggling to understand it and accept that responsibility, but I know now is not the time for me to fall apart.

I can feel Tor’s eyes on me, watching my interactions with the maid and her children. He’s wondering why they’re calling me ‘beloved,’ and he’s noticed how I panicked. It was subtle, but he seems to pick up on things others miss. Perhaps it has to do with this bond between us, or the fact I sometimesknowthings that I shouldn’t.

The sound of several sets of footsteps makes us all freeze and turn to look at the courtyard entrance. Thankfully, after a few minutes, no one comes out, but I know we are pushing our luck.

“You need to go.”

“Clarissa—” Taking a step back, I shake my head and he stops. I know what he’s going to say, or what he wants to say. He wants, no, needs to tell me something about my past, and I’m burning to know what he was going to say, but it’s not safe.

You’re a coward. You don’t want to know in case your past is as bad as your life in the castle. What if you were unwanted and uncared for just like you were always told?my mind taunts, picking at my insecurities.

Growling low in his throat, he shakes his head. “Fine, but wewilltalk about this tomorrow.”

Nodding, I watch as he turns to the maid and her children. Like a switch has been flipped, he changes before my eyes, softening as he kneels down in front of the youngsters. He sayssomething to them in a low voice that I can’t quite hear, but they nod, and small, fragile smiles appear on their faces.

“You need to go now,” he tells me, and I know he’s right. I don’t want to know how he gets in and out of the castle, the less I know the better, but it feels like he just kicked me in the chest. Nodding, I smile at the maid, dipping my head slightly.

“Mother bless you and keep you safe.” She smiles in return and makes the symbol of the Great Mother. Looking across at Tor, I feel my chest ache, and I wish we didn’t have these responsibilities that keep us on different paths. He doesn’t say anything, just watches me with an unreadable expression.

Unable to just keep standing here with this odd atmosphere between us, I turn and peer around to check that no one is watching before giving him one, last glance over my shoulder and taking a step outside of the shield.

As soon as I walk out, it’s like nothing ever happened. I look around and see only an empty courtyard. All of a sudden, I feel a cold, harsh burst of wind whistling past me, making me pull my cloak closer around my body. Without looking back, no matter how much I wish to, I leave the courtyard and head to my room.

Over the next couple of days, we fall into a grim routine. Every morning I meet with Wilson and I’m taken to work in the underground room with Vaeril. After that, I get cleaned up and I’m escorted to another meal in the great hall where, inevitably, several ladies lose their lives. The second evening there were noticeably less people who attended, and the next morning those who were absent were executed along with their escorts. No one missed the meal after that.

After that first invitation, no one has refused to eat the chocolate and a sort of hierarchy has been established. There’s a group of six women who seem to be favoured by the prince, plus their fathers are close with the king, or they provide the kingdom with some great service that keeps them in favour. Aileen and I stick close together and socialise with others as little as we can get away with, but I know her father is taking the prospect of his daughter dying hard, and he gets quieter each time we see him.

Once Wilson has escorted me back to my room, I lock myself in and pray to the Mother that I will make it through another day. Some evenings I escape to the courtyard, and I feel badthat I haven’t told Wilson about this, but I don’t want to get him dragged into trouble if it all goes wrong. Plus, I know he would want to come with me, and we are much more likely to be caught if there are two of us. I don’t visit Tor every evening, since I don’t want people to get suspicious, but those nights I don’t visit him, I’m plagued with thoughts and visions of him being caught. I also haven’t seen Jacob since the day he took me to the courtyard and warned me about his brother. I fear for the kind prince who made me feel special, and the longer I go without seeing him, the more I worry, my dreams insisting that he’s in trouble, desperately calling my name for help.

“You look tired today,” Vaeril comments from the forge, pulling my attention over to him. I’ve been down here for several hours now and he’s been very quiet, hardly saying a word to me, but he’s been watching me, his gaze heavy on my back as I scrub the floors. Looking up from my task, I raise my eyebrows, seeing that he’s much closer than I expected.

“You’re not supposed to say that to a lady, it’s insulting,” I quip, not in the mood for insults today. I’d been up most of the night pacing my room, worrying about Tor and the children he’s helping escape. We haven’t had a chance to talk about my past since that first evening, since more and more families have been coming to us for aid. Sooner or later we are going to have to stop. The missing servants will be noticed, and the guards and priests will start monitoring people’s movements more.

Vaeril is silent for a few moments as he takes in what I just said, his brow furrowed. “But you’re not a lady.”

“Charming!” I bark out a laugh, shaking my head and returning to my work. I know he doesn’t mean to insult me, he just took my statement literally—that I am, in fact, not a lady. Again, silence falls over us, just the sounds of the fire roaring in the forge and the scrape of my brush against the floor ringing in the large space.

“Did I offend you?” His voice is much closer this time, and when I look up, I find him only a few steps away. He’s wearing a questioning expression as he watches me closely.

“No, not really,” I reply with a shrug, and groan at the ache between my shoulders. Dropping my brush with a sigh, I roll my neck, trying to work out the tight muscles. “You’re right, I am tired. I’ve been having nightmares.”

Since I’m still looking up, I catch the pained expression that crosses his face, but it’s gone in a minute and his usual blank mask is in place once again. For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to say anything, and instead shut down like he usually does when we have a conversation about anything even vaguely personal.

“I understand the horror of nightmares.”

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