Page 49 of The Duke and the Disciple

Drazhan’s grip tightened. He shook her with a stern, commanding look. “Nien, sostra. You arenientato blame. Whatever happened to Valerian is not your doing. The Barynovs have been looking... Hey... Hey, cub, it’s all right. Spare no grief for opportunists, and none for a crime that is not yours to bear.”

Aesylt peeled his hand from her face and backed slowly away, nodding at the ground. Her brother’s absolution washed over her, but there was no reprieve from the guilt. “Everyone is safe. It’s what matters.”

She felt his eyes on her, waiting, but she couldn’t make herself look up again. She hardly had the energy to stand. Handing Aleksy to his mother had made her realize how much tension she’d been holding onto.

Drazhan nodded. “Duchess, Baroness Castel will show you to your apartment. Imryll, Aleks, and I will be two doors down from here. Aes, Adrahn, get some rest. We won’t be here at Castellan long—it’s no safer than Fanghelm—but I’ll have a better plan within a day or two.”

Aesylt didn’t breathe until she heard the door close. The settee creaked with the shift in weight as Rahn rose. She stilled, tightening with every step he made that brought him closer to her. He stopped about a foot away, but his presence, his heat, was unmistakable.

“Tell me what you need.” His voice, low and hoarse, rooted her in place. Chills rippled down her arms, into her fingers.

She shook her head at her feet, her shoulders lifting as she willed her body to turn. “Sleep. That’s what I need.”

“You struggle with how much to share with your brother. I understand why.” Rahn paused. “But everyone needs... needs someone they can be honest with, without fear of wounding or inciting them. You don’t have to talk to me, Aesylt, but I want you to know youcan,if you find holding everything inside is hurting more than helping.”

“Talk to you? Draz isn’t the only one called to impulsiveness.” Aesylt spun to face him. Her pulse turned erratic as she realized what she was about to say. “I wasn’t so out of it that I didn’t notice how you reacted when Nik brought me home that night.”

Rahn’s hands moved to his pockets. His expression made her think of a hare facing a hunter’s arrow. “I only saw what he did... what thatanimaldid to you. I won’t make apologies for taking it seriously, nor should you expect me to.”

“Hmm.” Aesylt’s eyes blurred from the weight of the night... from the heaviness of Rahn’s confusing comfort. The night at Hoarfrost wasn’t the only one on her mind either. There’d been other charged moments, whispers in time she’d tried to forget. She feigned a smile and started toward her bedroom. “I’ll be fine. Dobranok, Scholar.”

“Wait.”

Aesylt paused.

“Did you mean what you said tonight?”

“About not running off again? Acting like an irrational child who does the opposite of what her elders ask her to do?”

“Well, I didn’t say it.” His chuckle was dry, humorless. He’d said so little throughout the entire evening, and she was understanding why. He was in shock, exhausted, and likely repressing a good deal of fear.

“If I give my word, you can believe it. I never said Iwouldn’trun off before,” she said. “But like he said, this reprieve at Castellan won’t last long. We can’t go home. We can’t keep jumping from one keep to another. So whatIwill or won’t do is not the issue.” She glanced back over her shoulder with a swallowed yawn. “This will all come to a head soon, and Ancestors help us if we’re not ready.”

Aesylt had been staringat the mysterious letter throughout dusk and into the first throes of true night. How it had even made it to her was a question she could ask no one. Was there a spy at Castellan? Was it as simple as someone accepting an irresistible bribe? It was, after all, only a piece of paper.

But it was evidence their sojourn at Castellan couldn’t last.

She’d found it under her stew bowl, folded into a small square and tacked to the bottom with resin. If the bowl hadn’t been slightly off balance, threatening to spill sludge all over the copper tray, she’d have never seen it.

It was sitting alone on the tray, refolded. The paper reflected in the muddled copper, evidence it was real.

With a harsh inhale, she peeled the folds back one by one, until it was crinkled but open.

The words, she’d already memorized. They were few but clear.

Your brother will never see reason. You know our terms. Tell no one. If you surrender to us, no one else will meet harm. Our word upon the wings and bones of the Ancestors.

Fire popped and crackled in the hearth. She should burn the letter. Forget she ever saw it. Certainlycomplyingwas out of the question.

Wasn’t it?

I would die before I’d let Marek touch me. But if Val wakes...

As it had been the last time she’d spoken to him, the thought of being his wife was simultaneously thrilling and gutting. He would be the perfect husband. He’d dote upon her... love and desire her. But there was something missing, something she couldn’t define. Something she didn’t want to define.

It was the very thing that had been eating her alive from the inside out for months and months.

She slithered off the bed and knelt by it. With one hand she lifted the mattress, and with the other, she shoved the wadded paper as far in as her arm could stretch.

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