Page 129 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
The roar of a lioness shattered the silence as she leapt onto the edge of the terrace, crouched, ready to leap again. Kormick jerked Bristol closer. In the next instant, a circle of knights surrounded them, weapons drawn, spears and arrows aimed.
“Let her go,” Tyghan ordered.
Kormick smiled as he surveyed the circle of knights. He turned back to Tyghan. “Is this really how you want it to go, Trénallis?” And with his last word, his warriors materialized, forming another circle just behind the knights, weapons raised, the wizards’ hands poised for mayhem. “Now, this is a prickly situation, isn’t it?” Kormick mused, his smile severe and smug. “It certainly could end badly—for one of us.” And with a bare motion of his hand, like he was swatting away a gnat near his face, the moonlit sky behind him unfurled like spilled ink, a dark stain rolling across it until it was endless, a lethal black cloud of the restless dead. It was both stunning and suffocating, and the growing breadth of it made the attack at the training grounds look like an insignificant scuffle.
An inexhaustible army.
“Did you think I would come here without an escort?” Kormick asked.
Bristol’s gaze shot to Tyghan. “We only wanted to finish our dance out here, Your Majesty. That’s all. It’s only a misunderstanding,” she explained, working to calm tempers like she was soothing a squabble at Sal’s on a Friday night. She also needed to preserve the precious ground she had just gained—the freshly pulled hair in her pocket. “Right, Mick? A misunderstanding. It’s my fault, actually. I’m the one who said I wanted to catch up, and the ballroom was so noisy. It was easier to talk out here. Let’s not make this more than it is.”My fault.She was offering Kormick a way out, because he would never give an inch to Tyghan, but she also knew the secret she planted was assaulting his thoughts. All he wanted to do was make a quick exit.Who else had Cael spoken to? What else was he saying? What was he revealing?The burning questions had probably already quadrupled in his mind. “Please,” she pleaded, knowing groveling was gold to him. “Let this go.”
He eyed her for a long while, his grip on her still tight, then looked back at Tyghan. “Go on, Trénallis. Go back to your party. Count this as the last mercy I’m granting you. Take her with you. I have more important matters to tend.” He kissed Bristol’s hand as a goodbye, and with a bare nod, bid a dark-adieu. His warriors and wizards vanished with him.
Quiet, sobering seconds followed as they stared at the retreating cloud, everyone horribly aware they couldn’t have survived such a massive attack, but Bristol noted the low sounds too, a hiss from Quin, Dalagorn cracking his knuckles, the quiet rumble from Kasta’s throat, the furious rage at their own glaring vulnerability they had yet to find a remedy for. Kormick’s power was staggering, and they had likely only witnessed a fraction of it.
Once the menacing cloud was gone, questions were unleashed in a massive flood, a torrent swirling around Bristol from all sides, but Tyghan pushed past the others. “What the hell did—”
She held her finger to her lips, still wary of unwelcome ears hearing what she had to say. “No one say a word,” she ordered. “Follow me to my room. I need to speak to you all alone.”
“But—”
“Now,” she said, because time was of the essence. Giddiness rose inside her, and she had to suppress a smile all the way back to her chamber.
Tyghan walked beside her, strangely silent as she had ordered, but whispers trailed behind her as the rest followed.
What did Kormick do to her?
I don’t like this.
Could she be enchanted?
But the amulets—
Unless—
He’s a demigod—
Secrets. Oh, how they all hated them.
But she was certain they’d find this revelation worthy of the wait.
The opponent’s game piece had been played.
And now so had hers.
CHAPTER 87
The room bustled with impatience as everyone crowded in.
Kasta eyed Tyghan as if to say,She’s the one giving orders now?Esmee and Olivia immediately checked Bristol for enchantments, and Melizan and Cosette took up positions on the end of the bed, eager to watch a show.
As soon as Tyghan secured the door, Bristol whirled, facing everyone, no longer able to hide her excitement. She dug her hands into her pockets, and when she pulled them out, she stretched out her open hands for everyone to see. The faint strands of blond hair were barely visible against her palms. She looked at Madame Chastain. “Please tell me this is enough. It has to be enough.”
The High Witch stepped closer, examining Bristol’s palms. “Enough for what?”
“It’s Kormick’s hair, and it’s freshly torn from his scalp. Now you can see where he’s going.”
“It’s a scant amount, probably sufficient, but I already know where he’s going. Back to Fomoria.”
