Page 138 of A Vow of Wrath and Ruin

“I hope you are right, and I am being ridiculous.” Tharan gazed out the window. The city sped by, blurry in the morning haze.

The Alder Townhome sat silent on a hill. Tharan didn’t bother to pay the cab driver before he burst from the carriage and through the carved double doors.

“Lord Greenblade,” Finneas said, startled at the sight of his master. “We… we weren’t expecting you.”

“Is she here?” He paced frantically through the parlor and then up the stairs. “Is Aelia here?”

“No, my Lord, she went after her sister last night, and they have not returned.”

Tharan’s eyes glowed a verdant green, full of power and malice. “Where did she go, Finneas?”

“I didn’t see, your Highness,” the satyr bowed low, trying to hide his trembling voice.

Tharan did his best to keep his temper at bay. There was no use raging at his servant. That was not who he was. Taking a deep breath, he flattened the wrinkles on his vest.

“Did the Hunt go with her?”

“Yes, my Lord, but they have not returned either.”

Tharan paced around the foyer, running his hand through his auburn locks. He needed a cigarette.

Amolie appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Tharan? How did you know to come?” She rushed down the stairs, her curls bouncing in her wake. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how to get a message to you, and you know how Aelia can be. She always comes back.” She flung herself into his open arms. Her tears stained his cloak.

“I’ll find her, Amolie. Don’t you worry.” He patted her head reassuringly.

Amolie wiped the tears from her hazel eyes.

“Calliope, the sea queen, is after her. I’m afraid she may have laid a trap for her.”

Tharan bit the inside of his cheek nervously; he had to be strong now, for all of them.

Turning to Hopper he said, “Call a meeting with the sea queen. Here. In Ruska.”

Hopper nodded and quickly drew up a royal invitation, his mouth twisted as he concentrated.

“I need your signature, my Lord.”

Taking a deep breath Tharan calmed his nerves before signing the invitation with big, swooping letters, and sealing it with the sigil of the Alder King in hot wax.

“I expect you to deliver this to Ursula by hand.”

Hopper took the parchment and headed out the door.

Tharan pulled his long hair back and tied it with a leather strap—anything to distract himself from the panic bubbling in his gut.

“Sumac?”

She stepped into the study, having already changed into her Wild Hunt Armor.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Let’s see if we can retrace Aelia’s steps. Where’s Amolie?”

“I’m right here.” The witch donned a pair of wool slacks and a cape. “I think we should go see Conrad. He has the siren’s song. The queen will want that if she’s going to give Aelia back.”

“Smart.”

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