Page 166 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

Reality asserted itself along with the newly-kindled fire. Visca wanted to go south with the legions; Wyn was positive I would find Cirri on the road, heading back towards Argent—if the Rift guards came across her, they would neither leave her unguarded nor allow her to cross the border into the Moor.

I had remained aloof from the plans, my mind stuck in the tower, living those final moments over and over.

But they didn’t have to be final. Not if Irefusedthe letter.

She wasmybride, she had made her vows tome, and I would be damned if I let her walk away without a fight.

“I’m going south,” I said abruptly, and Visca’s brow unfurrowed. “South with the legions. I’ll find her on the road.”

“Good.” My commander’s shoulders loosened, her entire posture one of relief.

“Good?” Wyn shook her head in disgust. “She’s having a tantrum. I had high hopes for her, honestly, but this is entirely too much. This isn’t some—some chosen courtship where she can flounce off in a huff. She is the Lady of the Rift, with the expectations of conduct—”

“Darling.” Visca rubbed the bloodwitch’s shoulders, squeezing hard for a moment. “Does Cirri strike you as a flouncer?”

Wyn glared out the window, deprived of her censure. “Not really in particular, no. Afford me a moment of irritation, things were going so smoothly, thelastthing I thought we’d have to deal with was another debacle like Voryan’s girl…”

Visca gave me a long-suffering look, still massaging Wyn’s shoulders. “Not a flouncer, then, eh? Which means this is serious. So let’s find her on the road and bring her home, clear up any misunderstandings.”

I was in agreement, and when I found Cirri, I would bring her home and ask what I could do to make reparations. I would pay for Ellena’s death, if I must, but Cirri would stay.

Wyn exhaled, turned her head to kiss Visca’s fingers, and strode to the keep’s doors. “You’re right as always. I’ll get the blood sigils ready.”

Visca waited until she was gone before casting a clear, cool eye on me. “The furthest she could have gone is Thornvale. They’ll stop her. They’re still acting under their initial orders—in the event that she attempts to flee, she’s to be detained.”

“But no word has been sent yet?”

Visca hesitated, and shook her head. “No, but none of the horses are missing, which means it's likely she’s gone on foot. Not the choice I would imagine her making, but… it’s not that hard to follow the road south, and there’s a scad of legions between her and any rogue wargs. She’d be safe enough walking all the way to the bottom of the Rift right now.”

But wargs were not the only threats, and my Cirri was only human still—so fragile. Ravines, rockslides, natural predators, icy rivers, poisonous plants, the cold of the night… my gods, whatcouldn’tkill her?

And now, with the worst realized, I found that I could entirely believe in the Rift-kins’ outdated fears. Who was to say for sure that all the Fae were dead? Perhaps she’d wandered into a circle of mushrooms, or slept on a tree with a knothole in it, and summoned their spirits out of the earth…

“Buck up.” Visca slammed her fist onto my shoulder. “The boys are ready to go. We’ll join the southern legions and send out scouts along the main road, and we’ll find her, Bane. Whatever set her off, we’ll find a solution. Something isn’t right about that. She’s been so level-headed about everything so far, and that’s what sends her running? I don’t buy it.”

Nothing was right about anything, as far as I was concerned, but that was neither here nor there.

For now, I had a direction, a purpose, a shining light guiding my way.

Go south. Find Cirri.

And then what?The beast inside me whispered.Lock her in the tower? Keep her chained to a monster she hates?

I considered that for a moment, and finally settled on an answer that was neither noble or kind, but true.

Yes.

She was mine. And she would spend the rest of her life with me, one way or another.

The legions were far ahead,and I was far behind. Crawling on all fours, my sensitive nostrils filtering out the scents of thelegions’ caravans: the warm stableyard scent of horses, the tang of oiled iron weapons, soft leather.

They followed the road; I followed the forest.

Creeping over game trails and worn foot-paths, driven with a single purpose, I made my way to the south of the Rift.

She was likely in the custody of Thornvale’s guards already. Would her eyes fill with relief to see me again? Or would she curl her lip and turn away?

I hated this, not knowing what to expect. Perhaps I had come to take her desire to see me for granted. Were there signs I had misread?

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