Page 112 of Shadows of Ruin

“I’m here,” Kade whispered, echoing what his shadows physically showed me, “every step of the way.”

I nodded once, too afraid my voice would fail me.

Kade steered our horse down a narrow beaten path, riding directly behind Ian as Valeford came into view. The rest of our cadre followed close behind in a single-file line.

Every few minutes, Ian glanced over his shoulder, as if to remind himself I was still there, not allowing me out of his sight for long. Though a part of my heart felt the same desire to check on him, I knew his unease stemmed from his lack of trust in Kade and his friends. Understandable after everything that had happened, but I trusted him. He would too…eventually.

I hoped.

“Ian if your horse keeps stopping so close to mine, I cannot ensure you will not be bit,” Kade tsked. “It would be a shame for you to have come all this way to be bested by such a simple beast.”

Anger emanated from Ian. He was my oldest friend, and I didn’t need to look at him to know the daggers he shot with his eyes toward Kade. I reached out, shoving Kade’s shoulder.

“Harder next time, Princess,” Jax encouraged from behind us.

I winked over my shoulder, grateful for Jax’s keen ability to distract when we needed it. Maybe Jax’s teasing naturewould settle the thick tension around us once and for all soon.

“You meanQueen,” Corbin snapped.

A pang of pain seared my chest. Corbin’s intention was good, based on loyalty, and yet I couldn’t help but hate that the title belonged to me now.

Ian ignored the side comments around us, focused solely on Kade. “If you think for one moment that I will trust your intentions simply because my queen, who you kidnapped, does”—Ian’s voice trembled, an obvious attempt to contain his rage—“you are sorely mistaken, Kade Blackthorn.”

Kade chuckled but said nothing else. Ian eventually heeded his words, relenting and allowing his horse to keep a few paces ahead of ours.

We crested the shallow hill, and I took in the small town of Valeford. I’d been here once with my father many years ago, not knowing then the significance of the town as I did now—at least for my personal history. Homes clustered along tree-lined roads. Small quaint cottages dotted the land in front of us. Most contained beautiful gardens lined with white picket fences. Birds and other wildlife buzzed in the abundance of flowers, unperturbed by the disturbances of darkness to our land.

Being back in Brookmere provided a sense of relief in some ways, like breathing in its sweet air again. But at the same time, the looming suffocation of complete dread lingered at the task before us now that I had returned.

Ellevail had fallen.

Andras undoubtedly had stolen the crown for himself.

Fucking asshole.

I repeated the words I swore I would continue to say until they actually rang true.

I am Illiana Dresden, and Andras Braumlyn will die by my hand.

Slowly, painfully, and without regard for proper decorum normally afforded a member of the royal court.

I put a hand over my heart, fighting back the fresh new wave of grief washing over my soul.

The anguish over my mother’s death.

A warm hand swept over my cheek. Kade’s knuckles brushed away the falling tear, and I leaned into the compassionate touch.

“You will have your retribution, Little Rebel,” he said, low and ruthlessly.

I let myself believe his words as Ian led us down the small hill.

The last few paces toward the main entrance to the town felt like time stopped and sped up all at once. A whirlwind of emotions flooded my body, leaving me desperate for air.

Riding silently down the main road, we searched. Neither Ian nor I knew how we’d find my parents’ house, or the journal my father wanted me to obtain.

I figured I would merely ask someone. It might give away that we were here, but unless clearly marked, the idea of finding a home from twenty years ago seemed impossible.

People appeared content as they pushed wooden carts covered in dirt along the road. Children ran across yards, darting in and out of the small homes and onto the streets.

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