by Kiera Cass
I smiled. “Don’t worry. Enid did the better part of the baking, so they shouldn’t be too bad,” I said, pointing to the pile of little cakes on a plate at the center of the table.
We all sat down, and Uncle Reid was grinning. “I suppose it’s nice to have something to be happy about. Thank you all.”
“Have a sweet, my love. To send you sweetly into another year,” Aunt Jovana said, gesturing for him to pick one up.
Uncle Reid sighed, but there was no weight to it. He was smiling as he looked around the table at our small party. Finally, he reached out to grab the first one. He took a bite and rolled his eyes at how delicious it must have tasted.
“And now we all take one, too, so we’re part of the sweet year,” Mother whispered to me.
I reached out with the rest of the table, accidentally hitting both Mother’s and Etan’s hand as I took one of the little cakes. Even though I’d contributed to making them, I didn’t know what it was exactly that made them so rich. Whatever it was, it tasted like heaven on earth.
“Mmm,” I sighed, talking with my mouth full. “I could get used to these. Whose birthday is next? I can’t wait to have these again.”
“I think it’s Scarlet,” Mother said.
Scarlet, who was devouring her sweets, only nodded.
“Birthdays are the best,” I said, taking another bite. “In Coroa, we hold hands and dance around the person. Growing up it was just Mother and Father, but when we were at the castle, it was dozens of people. It was nice to be in the center of so many happy faces.”
“Well, this is Isolte,” Etan said firmly. “This is what we do.”
After the uncomfortable silence, I broke it with a simple, “I know.”
“Then adjust. If you’re going to stay here, then you need to let go of Coroa.”
It was clear the whole party wanted the subject to drop. But I wondered if any subject would ever simply drop between the two of us. I took a deep breath and went in.
“When your cousins moved to Coroa, did you expect them to give up everything they knew? All of their traditions?”
“Completely different,” he replied quickly. “That was a family group, and they weren’t going to stay forever—”
“Silas most certainly was!”
“—and you’re alone, and, unless we get lucky, you’re stuck here.”
“Etan,” Mother hissed.
“You cannot possibly tell me you’re thankful another person has been dragged into this!” he shouted. “Furthermore, half our issues would be resolved if her kind would simply—”
“My kind?” I shouted, standing and sending the chair back behind me.
“Your people slaughter ours without a second thought. Do you know how insufferable it is that you’re under my roof?”
“Etan, we’ve been over this,” Uncle Reid interjected resolutely.
“You act as if Isolte has never started an attack,” I said coldly. “When it comes to wars between our countries, they’ve been exclusively instigated by you. Perhaps these skirmishes along the border are different, but are you not man enough to admit that Isolte carries some of the blame for the unrest?”
He stood himself, raking his fingers through his hair, a mad smile on his face. “You are so spoiled! Do you think wars that happened more than a hundred years ago have anything to do with what’s happening now? Do you have any grasp of how many villages your king has burned?”
“My king? Your king burned your family, and you dare speak against me?!”
“Yes, and I will continue to do so until the day you leave or become an Isolten! Which, by the way, will never happen.”
“Have I not done enough?” I asked, throwing my hands wide. “I married an Isolten. I left Coroa. I have come to be with my family, which I consider you part of, and you still—”
“You are not my family,” he insisted, pointing his finger at me. “All you are is the girl who got this close to Jameson’s bed. Didn’t you hear a thing they said at the border? They think he’s trying to get into the country. Why? Because he’s lost his mind over you, for reasons I cannot begin to fathom. And why wouldn’t I believe you’d help him? Why would I trust you with my secrets when, at any minute, you could go running back to that man?”
I stared at him, feeling my gaze coming out dark and cold. “Don’t. Move.”
I left the room quickly, hurrying up the stairs and into my room. I grabbed what I’d come for and dashed back down, arms heavy. They were talking in my absence, quietly but forcefully. I couldn’t make out much beyond Etan’s unswerving refusal to apologize. I marched to stand across from Etan and tossed the entire bag of gold I’d brought with me at his chest. It hit him hard and he stumbled back into his chair, several coins spilling to the floor.
“Goodness, Hollis,” Aunt Jovana said. “Where in the world did you get so much money?”
Etan was still looking down into his lap, shocked, but he finally dared to look at me.
“That is what I could carry of my widow’s fund. This is what’s given to every noblewoman in Coroa when they lose their husband. And now it’s yours, you pig. Use it to raise whatever army you need, bribe whoever you have to. From this moment on, Jameson Barclay’s money is funding your pursuit for justice, and it came at my hands. Do not forget it.”
“Hollis,” Mother whispered. I held up a hand, stopping her, unable to tear my eyes away from Etan Northcott.
“I have never said this to another living soul . . . but I hate you,” I breathed.
He smirked humorlessly. “I’ve said this to too many people to count, but I mean it all the same: I hate you.”
“Etan,” Uncle Reid said calmly. “Apologize.”
“Don’t bother. I’ve been lied to enough. Do excuse me.” I turned and left, head high, hoping I was still holding on to some trace of the lady I once was.
There was an eruption of discussion in my wake, and I hated that they were arguing because of me.
I was proud of myself for not crying until I got to my room. I just couldn’t understand his anger, as if I’d done something to him with my own two hands. I hadn’t.
I sat there for a long time with my frustrations and rage and sorrow, and I came to a simple conclusion: I’d made a mistake.
I never should have come to Isolte.
In three short days, my presence had torn holes in what was left of a great family. I had exhausted what little I could contribute to their planning. I was not welcome by the staff, would surely be judged to my family’s detriment by any neighbors, and, after so many years of being talked down to, I couldn’t take another word from Etan’s mouth.
I needed to leave.
There was no way they would let me go if I asked, so I had to run. It was easy enough to get my things together and into the bags I’d brought them in; I had so little that was truly my own.
I penned a quick letter of apology and left it on my bed. Once it was late enough that everyone would certainly be asleep or at least in their quarters, I padded downstairs, heading to the kitchen using the servants’ stairs.
I waited at the door, looking to make sure the room was empty. Once satisfied, I started walking through, only to hear a gasp behind me. I turned, seeing there was a girl against the wall by the door I’d missed in my search.
“Oh. It’s you, miss. Can I help you?”
“You did not see me. Do you understand?”
I didn’t wait for her to agree but moved to the back door, taking a direct path to the stables I’d seen on the tour Aunt Jovana had given me. But was she my aunt anymore? If I left? I shook the thought away. Madge was in there, resting, but she perked up the moment she smelled me.
“Hey, girl. Want to see Coroa again? Let me find a saddle.”
It took a little hunting to find where everything was kept, but Madge was ready when I placed the saddle and bags across her back. I pulled the hood of my cape up and slid on gloves, hoping to be as anonymous as possible; I didn’t know how I’d be rece
ived on either side of the border.
We quietly trotted around the front of the house to head to the road that was the only link I knew to get to the border. On the long path to the manor, I paused, looking back. It felt like I was driving a spike down the center of my heart. And then, because I couldn’t help the sorrow, I cried. I’d lost too many people against my will, and it was a different pain entirely to lose them because I was choosing to walk away. I cupped my hand across my mouth and stared at the house for a minute, tears running down my face.
“Please forgive me,” I whispered. “I don’t know what else to do.”
I turned and moved into the night.
Eight
THE MOON WASN’T NEARLY BRIGHT enough to light the way, so I slowed my horse to a walk. The journey and the night were both incredibly long. I wished I’d been smart enough to think of bringing a dagger, or anything that might have lent me some security. In fact, I was starting to wish I’d remained an ignorant lady in the palace, or that I’d listened to Mother and stayed in Coroa in the first place . . . but no. Even if I couldn’t bring myself to finish what I’d started, I didn’t regret a single second of what I’d done.
It took me a while to notice there was a horse and rider in the distance who looked to be following me. I could tell they were moving faster than I was, and if I didn’t do something, they’d be upon me within a minute. I did not want to come across a thief or worse alone in the dark.
My instinct was to leave the trail, to hide. But if they had seen me, that was it. My second thought was to go into a full gallop and try to outrun them, which seemed unlikely with how poorly I knew the roads. Before I could decide, a voice rang out.
“Hollis! Hollis, wait!”
I pulled the reins and came to a stop. “Etan? Is that you?” I steadied my horse, my heart racing, and watched him approach.
“Going somewhere?” he asked casually when he caught up.
I shook my head. “How did you even know I was gone?”
He sighed, unable to look me in the eye. “I saw you go.”
Of course he did. His room was next to mine, and they both looked out upon the front of the manor. Why hadn’t I thought to make sure he was asleep before setting off?
“I’m not going back,” I said hotly. “I don’t know what’s waiting for me in Coroa, but I’m sure you’ll agree that it will be better for everyone if I just go.” I hated that I felt so very close to tears as I went on. “As you’ve pointed out many times, I’m not an Isolten, and I’m not really family. It will be better for everyone if I just . . . disappear.”
“No, it won’t,” he said. “You’re coming back with me. You’d never make it to Coroa on your own anyway.”
“I can figure it out.”
“Hollis, you can hardly figure out your wardrobe. Turn around!”
“You should be rejoicing!” I replied bitterly. “You’ve been pushing me out of the house since the second I arrived, after all. And anyway, if you saw me leave, then why in the world did you let me get this far before trying to stop me?”
“Because I wanted you to go. Obviously.” He was still looking away, shaking his head. “And then I realized I couldn’t possibly let that happen.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And why is that?” I shot back sarcastically.
“Because I know you, Hollis.” He finally looked at me, his eyes stern.
The words were eerily similar to something that Silas had said once, words that made me see I needed to run away with him, even if it led to my ruin. If Etan Northcott thought he was going to steal the memory of those words, he was mistaken.
“You may know many things, Etan Northcott, but you do not know me.”
“Yes, I do,” he insisted quietly. “I know that you have already had your fill of death. I know that you would rather live a long life alone in agony if it meant those you loved could walk the earth just a little while longer. I know . . .” He paused, swallowing hard. “I know that, even when you’re miserable, you look out for other people. It’s been years since I’ve seen my mother smile the way she did when you put flowers in her hair.” He looked down, almost seeming ashamed. “And I know that you think that Aunt Whitley and Scarlet will forget you, that my parents will, too . . . but they won’t.”
Etan had seen right through my walls, to my poorly concealed fears. Tears stung at my eyes, so I didn’t dare speak.
“I’ve already done everything you’re thinking of doing,” he told me. “And I built a wall between myself and my family. It makes it easier for them to bear not having me near. But you are different. You light up any room you’re in, and if you are not there when they wake tomorrow, Hollis, they will all be defeated by it.”
“They wo—”
“They will,” he assured me. “Come home.”
Home. What was home anymore? I certainly didn’t know.
I looked at him, studying the seriousness in his eyes as he went on. “You do realize that, if you continue, I will just be sent to fetch you all the same, even if I have to follow you to the border. And while I appreciate your proclivity to heroism, that boldness will undoubtedly be wrung out of you there.”
I sighed, knowing he was right. If I kept going, he’d only track me, and that would certainly end in disaster. If not for me, then for him. And I couldn’t be the cause of more mourning.
Wordlessly, I urged Madge into a trot, heading back to the manor. “How will we make this work at the house?” I asked. “You can’t stand me, and I’m not particularly fond of you myself.”
“Easy. Self-control. Believe it or not, I have some. We will simply avoid speaking to one another unless we absolutely must. And as much as it pains me, I will drop all insults to Coroa and your unfortunate loyalty for the time being.”
I sighed. “I just gave you every last penny I have. Is that not enough to prove I’m with you?”
“To a point,” he conceded. “But it’s hard to forget that you were nearly queen.”
“So there you have it,” I said flatly. “You don’t really trust me, and I don’t trust you. How can I know you will keep your word, that you won’t be arguing with me and belittling me all the time?”
He looked me dead in the eye. “I would hope by now that you know I never say things I don’t mean.”
The sound of our horses echoed in the night. “Well, I can’t deny that. Fine. I will keep my distance, and I will avoid talking about anything in front of you that might tempt you to be an arse.”
“Good luck there.”
I smirked for a quick second before becoming serious again. “And please don’t tell them I left.”
“I won’t.”
We sank into silence, and I rode beside him all the way back to the manor. The sky was turning a beautiful pink, but I was worried with each new ray of sunshine that everyone would wake to discover that I’d attempted to abandon them.
“Hurry,” Etan said, reading my thoughts. “If we cut through here, we can come up around the back of the manor.”
He launched off the road, and I followed, springing into a gallop. Etan was a fair rider, nearly as steady as Jameson, which was saying something. After a sleepless night, it felt good to really move, to almost fly across the field. We ducked into a short line of trees, coming out into fields of grain where people were already hard at work.
As we rode past, men tipped their cloth hats and women curtsied, recognizing one of the landowners on sight. Etan greeted many by name in return.
“You put me to shame,” I told him, and he looked over with questioning eyes. “I don’t know a single person who worked our land. I wish I’d done better.”
He shrugged. “You can do better. When you go back. Because you will one day, Hollis. Eventually, you will get your life back.”
“We’ll see.”
I wasn’t sure if I’d survive the month, so it was hard to make plans beyond that. Etan led me to a familiar row of trees. We went through the opening, and there was the back of the manor an
d the path leading to the kitchen.
“Do you think anyone’s up yet?”
“No,” he said with a yawn. “But we’ll take the servants’ stairs just in case.”
He tapped on the kitchen window, waving at whoever was in there. Someone came and opened the door for us, and we got a few shocked looks from the cooking staff.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Etan said, playfully wagging a finger at them. “This was a rescue mission, and I expect you all to keep our presence to yourselves. There’s enough going on as it is.” Etan’s tone was so lazy that it hardly felt like a command, yet I knew everyone in that room would obey.
“Oh, thank goodness,” a voice said, and I turned to see the girl who’d caught me leaving.
“Sorry I put such a secret on you,” I said. “I won’t again.”
Etan watched the quick interaction, looking as if he’d put the final stroke on a painting. “Let’s go, Hollis.”
He turned to go up the stairs, but only made it one step before wheeling back around to the room. “And by the way,” he added, wagging that same finger in the air, “as of this morning, when Lady Hollis holds up her cup, it is filled. If she rings a bell, it gets answered. For better or worse, she’s . . . part of the family, and she’ll be treated as such.”
His gaze swept across the room, meeting every pair of eyes with absolute seriousness.
In that moment, I knew he meant to keep his word. Even if he hated me, he wouldn’t tear me down again.
“Don’t worry, sir,” Enid said, waddling across the room, her arms full of some unrecognizable fruit. “We’d all come to that conclusion yesterday.” She looked at me. “I think you were right to make them celebrate the master’s birthday. He’s a good man.”
“He is,” I agreed. “One of the best.”
“Ah, Enid, my love!” Etan said, blowing a kiss at her. “I knew you’d never let me down.”
“Out you go!” she ordered with a laugh, and we scurried up the thin back stairs, trying not to make them creak, but not knowing how to avoid it.
When we came out on the second floor, we had to round a few corners before coming to the wing that housed our rooms. It seemed we’d gone undetected.
