by Lisa Jackson
The path angled sharply and the forest gave way to the wide fields surrounding the castle. Elyn drew her horse to a stop, waiting for Kiera at the edge of the woods. Moonlight gave the wheat stubble a silvery sheen. Far in the distance, rising on a cliff overlooking the sea, Lawenydd stood, six square towers seeming to disappear in the inky sky.
Kiera tugged on the reins, forcing her mount to slow. The big horse responded, tossing his yellowish head and breathing hard.
Elyn was glowering at her. “Father will kill us both,” she said, her features, so similar to Kiera’s own, pulled into a dark scowl. Nearly sixteen, Elyn was the eldest by a year and a half. Kiera was next. Four years later Penelope had been born.
“You saved my life,” Kiera said, not worried about their father’s anger. Llwyd of Lawenydd was a blustery man who adored his wayward daughters and would punish them, yes, but in the end forgive them. But Elyn had truly delivered Kiera from a terrifying fate. At the thought of her attacker, Kiera trembled. Had not her sister arrived when she had, if her aim had not been true …
Elyn threw her a hard look. “You were foolish.”
“Yes, I know, but I owe you my life.”
“’Twas fortunate that I was there.”
“Aye.” Kiera studied her sister’s frown. “What were you doing in the forest?”
Elyn hesitated, as if searching for the answer. “Looking for you. ‘Twas lucky I found you. As for Obsidian, let’s hope he’s smart enough to return to the castle.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” Kiera said, glancing at her sister. “I—I want you to have this,” she added in a rush as she yanked the necklace from around her neck. Pain surged through her, but she ignored it. Urging her horse forward, she dropped the crucifix into her sister’s hand. “Please, take it, and know that to repay you, I’ll do anything you ever ask.”
“But Mother gave this to you. Before she died.”
“’Tis yours now.”
“Hush. This is silly. Kiera, you don’t have to—”
“Yes, yes, I do. Please, Elyn. I … I’m indebted to you for life,” Kiera insisted, overwhelmed. “And … and whenever you wish the debt repaid, just give the necklace back to me and I’ll remember this vow. I’ll do anything for you.”
“Anything?” Elyn asked, shaking her head as if Kiera was talking nonsense.
“I mean it. Whatever you ask me to do, I’ll do it, Elyn. You saved my life. Of that I have no doubt. None. Now, please, take this and remember to ask me to return the favor. Please.” She pressed the crucifix with its fine gold chain into her sister’s gloved palm.
“Mayhap I should have my punishment from Father laid upon you,” Elyn said, and for the first time Kiera saw a flash of white—a bit of a smile—upon her sister’s face.
“Yes!” Kiera lifted her chin proudly. “Ask him.”
Elyn laughed a little, though the sound that rippled over the moonlit fields sounded hollow. “Nay. You’ll suffer enough at his hand. I’ll save calling in your debt for later, when I need a favor. Now, come on, we’re already in trouble. Let’s not make it any worse.”
“What will happen to …” Kiera nodded toward the woods.
“The man who attacked you? And Obsidian?” With a sigh, Elyn blew a strand of hair from her eyes. “Any form of torture would be too good for the outlaw and we should let him rot and die, but I suppose we’ll have to tell Father the truth. All of it. The horse will have to be found and the thug attended to before being imprisoned.
“’Twould be a blessing if he were to be caught and left forgotten in a dungeon, would it not?” Elyn said, then glanced sadly up at the sky. “A blessing.”
“Yes.” Kiera shuddered. “I hope I never see him again.”
“Me, too,” Elyn said vehemently, in anger—or pain? She spurred her horse and the bay whirled, then shot forward across the silvery fields. “Me, too.”
