Page 139 of The Duke and the Disciple

“Like you knew I was there that day you sent my brother into the forest?” Marek tilted his face to the side in mockery. He shuffled to the left and right in a series of taunting skips, arcing closer with each series of movements. “All that time I was accusing you of being a dark witch and the truth wasright there.”

“Tell me!”

The dark air beyond the barn whistled, rattling the boards, breaking their concentration.

“The answer is sitting right behind you, in our world. Becausethisworld, little cub, never belonged to us. You must have some koldyna in you after all, or you’d never have reached this place on your own.” He grinned and waved beyond her. “I know you’ve been taking Val here since you were littles. Feist told me. We kept it from my father, but the man is all vision, no backbone. She knew I’d be leading us soon enough. Every time you pulled my stupid brother into this place, Feist would say, ‘The little idiot has taken him again.’”

Aesylt went rigid. It had always been hypothesized that the celestial realm belonged to the koldynas, the crones and warlocks born of the demon realm. Their father certainly believed it, which was why he’d made Aesylt vow never to return. He didn’t know her toes had been curled when she’d said the words, the Vjestik way of resisting a vow made unwillingly, and she’d only deceived him because she’d believed he was repeating old superstitions. He’d not been there, always refusing her offers with fear. He didn’t know what a wonderful place it could be. How she’d learned to fight, to kill, and to defend, and how she had given her brothers a safe environment to do the same.

Either it had been true all along that the koldynas controlled the celestial world or Feist had the gift and ability to share it, but nothing changed the fact that Marek was there or that her only priority was figuring out how to escape a situation seeming more and more inescapable with each passing second.

“Ahh. I wish I could see your tiny little mind working the problem.” Marek moved closer and Aesylt inched back, step by step in a careful dance. “It’s unnatural, what you are. You’re too pretty to lock yourself away in dusty libraries with dusty scholars, rotting your brain... filling it with nonsense. None of it helps you now, does it?”

“You wanted to kill me that night at Hoarfrost. Now you want to wed me?” The pain had caught up, but there was nothing she could do about it. She required all her energy to stay alert.

Marek snickered. He cupped his crotch in a grotesque gesture. “You don’t inspire the ‘romantic’ in me, but I need legitimate Wynter heirs, not bastards.”

Keep him talking. Keep his mind busy.“You almostdidkill me. If not for Niklaus, you would have. You insult my intelligence, but you’re the one who tried to annihilate your entire plan.”

“It wasn’t my plan. All that time, Father had been pushing Val to the stewards. Never me. Until he did say it. And then it was all I could think about. Always should have been me, as the eldest, but Val had a fancy for you, and my father always gave the pissant anything he wanted.”

Aesylt carefully examined the space, searching for ideas, for anything useful. “If your revelation about me cameafterVal returned home, it doesn’t explain why you would curse him when he tookyourplace in the forest.”

“My father wanted a war. Feist helped me give him one.”

“Why?”

“You ask a lot of questions. You won’t need this curiosity where you’re going.” Marek reached behind himself and withdrew a hunting knife.

“Have the Barynovs always been planning a coup against us?” Aesylt’s chest locked from the pace of her heart. Every bruise and laceration on her body stung to life. She’d given up healing herself. Marek or Feist or both were blocking it. The world had only been hers to command for as long as others had allowed it.

“Coup?” Marek slowed his approach. His expression contorted in repellence. “The seat was always ours, andyoustole it. The Barynovs werefirstto the Cross. Darek Summerton was a grifter who couldn’t even best a wulf, never mind talk to one. Changing his name to Wynter in some ridiculous tribute, like he was the keeper of the seasons themselves? Your entire bloodline is built on weakness.”

“How compelling, from the man who needed five guards, a witch, and a minister to keep a little girl from killing him.” Aesylt braced after her impulsive gaffe. Whatever reprieve she’d bought was over.

“Do you see them now?” Marek flung his arms wide. A ripple passed over him, turning to a shimmer. His dark hair lengthened. The broad form he was known for reduced to the frame of a strong but average man.

Standing before Aesylt was Hraz.

No, not Hraz. It’s not my brother, no matter how I might desperately wish it were.

“Hey, cub.” But it was Hraz’s crooked smile. The half wink he always saved for her.

Aesylt shuddered through a sob. Both of her hands flew to her mouth but not quick enough to curb her tortured scream.

Then her beautiful, beloved frata lifted a hand and sent her flying to the barn wall.

There werethirteen inns along the main stretch of Voyager’s Rest, but it only took four to uncover where Aesylt had been holed up. A bag of gold was all that had been needed to get the “discreet” taverners’ tongues wagging.

“Aye, sounds like th’ one who checked in, oh, not long past, I ken. One I’m thinking of ha’ a fella join her though.” The taverner’s thick Southerlands brogue had both Rahn and Drazhan straining to make sense of his words.

“Describe him,” Rahn commanded, drawing Drazhan’s instant annoyance.

“Young, ’bout her age, I’d ken. Pretty boy, if ye like.”

Not Marek.Rahn nodded, relieved. “Show...” He lifted his palms in submission to Drazhan, who was still glaring in warning.

“Show us,” Drazhan said, turning back toward the older man.

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