Page 43 of A Kingdom of Destruction

No.

She cut off that line of thinking before she sank into despair.

Casting a subtle glance over her shoulder for Cillian and seeing nothing, she hustled down the steps. Mercifully, she was soon heading down one of the side corridors toward a door leading out to the herb gardens off the kitchen. She kept a healthy pace and her attention sharp, even when Roran’s remarks kept playing in her head.

The small bit of vulnerability they’d shared with each other had felt refreshing. She didn’t think he was lying when he expressed his distaste in serving his king, and yet it didn’t fit with the image she had crafted of him.

If they had more time together, they might actually come to an understanding. Hell, she’d probably end up liking him. More than she should.

The idea sat poorly with her, and Aven shoved it down into that dark part of her again.

Double glass doors led from the hallway into the herb garden and swung open when she pushed them, their hinges silent.

She had no idea how far she’d make it. Hopefully she’d be far enough away before anyone realized she’d bolted.

The farther she made it from the stuffy confines of the palace, the farther she crept through the garden in the open air, the better Aven felt. If the rebels were able to sneak into Mourningvale, then it was entirely possible for her to sneak out of it.

The dappled sunlight through the overhead trees cast part of the garden into shadow. She glanced back and forth. Then stopped entirely when something shifted in the corner of her vision. When she turned toward the movement, she saw nothing outside of a flowering bush, each blossom dripping golden nectar onto the path below it.

The breath in her lungs went stale, and she gasped sharply.

Wow. Now she stooped to jumping at shadows?Ridiculous.

Aven took a giant step forward, even with the trickle of panic threatening her. She made it this far, hadn’t she? Her belly was filled with food from her breakfast, and her long sleeves would keep her warm during the chilled nights. Her shoes were flimsy at best, only good for polished palace floors, but they would have to suffice.

Her father needed her.

Whatever deals they had worked out with the Fae King, she cared for none of them.

Another quick survey of the garden around her revealed an open road, no one following her. She glanced behind her one last time but kept her forward movements light and steady. The garden closed in around her as she approached the darkened boxwood hedges marking its border. Beyond were trees and the fae village no one had dared show her, like knowing too much of this land would somehow empower her.

She hardly dared to breathe too loudly and call attention to herself.

The fae had horses. Perhaps in the village she’d be able to steal one for herself. Four legs would make her flight much faster.

She reached an old metal gate in between boxwoods and rested her hand on one of the rungs. Every cell in her body urged her to hurry. Her heartbeat raced to the point of being a thunderous beat in her ears. Aven pushed against the gate?—

Just as a hand wrapped around her throat and tugged her backward.

“If I’d known you needed fresh air, I would have been happy to accompany you. It wasn’t too much trouble.”

Cillian’s fingers tightened on her skin, and he slowly maneuvered her around to face him, her eyes widening in fear. He squeezed again, the warning apparent, and she didn’t dare move. Not when his jaw clenched and a muscle on the side of his neck twitched.

This was the end. Caught before she made it out and by the person she’d lied to with a straight face.

“So much for resting in your room. Hm, Aven?” His words were a purr, shifting into a growl she felt all the way down to her toes.

“Please,” she stated. “I need to get out of here. I can’t stay.”

She refused to apologize. Not when Cillian bared his teeth at her and not when he shoved her back against the gate. She sucked in a breath and faced him with her shoulders thrown back and her posture strong, even when it brought his hand harder against her throat.

“You want to throw your weight around like a brute, then by all means. I’d be happy for the exercise. I can move as well as any soldier in this dress.” The folds of fabric hid the way her knees threatened to buckle.

The tentative truce they’d managed to build with each other strained, threatened to vanish.

Cillian stepped closer, the snarl on his lips sliding down into a frown the longer he looked at her. “You’re a stupid fool if you thought you could run away. It’s daylight. There are thousands of eyes around to mark your movements, not to mention centuries in the village who might have shot you down and things in the forest with a thirst for mortals.”

“I know how to handle myself,” she tossed back.

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