Promising Light (9 page)

“I want to go back to the prince,”
Grace said. Her voice came out smaller than she’d intended, and she
gritted her teeth.

Adrian gave her a small, pitying
smile. A woman came out of the tent, pushing past Adrian to look at
Grace. She had hair that reached her waist and a mole above her
lip. “Is this her?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“This is Lady Grace,” Adrian said.
“Lady Grace, this is Myra.”

Grace stared at him. They’d just
forcefully kidnapped her, and now he acted as though she was an
honored guest. She still had rope around her wrists, and Caleb held
her shoulder in a tight grip.

“Myra, can you look after her?”
Adrian asked. He dropped his voice. “I must send a messenger to
Lisbeth.”

The rider stepped forward. “I’ll
go, Adrian.”

“I want to go back to the prince,”
Grace repeated. “Let me go.”

“Lady, we do not want to hurt
you,” Adrian said.

“I don’t care what you want. I
demand you release me!” Grace said, raising her voice.

Adrian glared at Caleb and Vin. “I
told you to be gentle with her.”

“We tried. She fought,” Vin said
shortly.

“You would, too, if someone
kidnapped you!” Grace yelled. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears,
and she swallowed hard. Goodness, how she hated crying in front of
others. “Please let me go.”

“Myra, take her into your tent,”
Adrian said. “Give her a new dress, tend to her wounds.”

“She’s fine aside from her
tongue,” Caleb grumbled.

“Take off her ropes,” Myra
said.

Caleb untied the ropes, and Grace
touched the skin on her wrists gently.

“Don’t try to run,” Adrian said,
his eyes steady on her. “We can help each other.”

Myra took her arm and led her to
the tent. Grace looked around the clearing, the questioning eyes on
her, and she wondered how far she could get before Caleb or the
horse-man caught up with her. She couldn’t outrun a
horse.

She followed Myra into her tent. A
small cot lay in one corner and a trunk in another with a basin of
water on top of it. Myra dampened a small piece of fabric and
handed it to Grace. “For your mouth,” she said.

Grace gingerly touched her tongue
to the fabric. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, but she had the metallic
taste in her mouth. She wiped the blood off her lips and chin. She
was taking deep breaths, but her lungs still didn’t feel full. Did
Dar know this would happen? Is this why he left?

“What do you want with me?” Grace
asked.

Myra looked up from her trunk.
“Lisbeth and Adrian will tell you as soon as she gets
here.”

Grace gazed at the fabric in her
hand, stained with her blood. “I want to know now. They just
kidnapped me. I was only… I didn’t ask for this…”

“I’m sorry,” Myra said, frowning.
She stood up, a dress in her hand. “We didn’t know how else to
communicate with you. When you go home, you’ll be watched by your
father.”

“But what do you want?” Grace
asked. “Isn’t it money?”

Myra shook her head and held out
the dress. “Change into this.”

Grace stared at her, her mouth
hanging open. “What?”

“Please,” Myra said. “You’ll
understand soon.”

The heat of the day combined with
the stress of the last hour had her sweating. She stripped off her
dress and chemise, then pulled on Myra’s simple one. The brown
material was breathable; it had elbow-length sleeves and stopped
mid-calf. It didn’t fit quite right since Myra had wider hips, but
Grace already felt cooler.

Myra gave her some water to drink,
and Grace’s hands stopped shaking. She sat on the cot, Myra across
from her. Flaps on opposite sides of the tent were open, letting a
breeze through. The horse-man stood on one side of the tent, Caleb
on the other. Occasionally, people would walk by and peer into the
tent until Myra shooed them away.

“You’re shape changers,” Grace
said.

“Yes,” Myra said. “You haven’t
seen one before?”

“No.” Grace pictured the horse-man
morphing, remembered the feel of the rope changing, and
shuddered.

Myra gazed at her, furrowing her
brow. “You smell like one.”

“What?”

“You smell like my family.” Myra
paused, her eyes flickering over Grace’s lips. “It’s strongest on
your lips.”

Grace let out a shuddering breath.
Dar. Last night in the library. “You’re related to Sir
Dar?”

After a pause, Myra said, “Yes. He
is a distant cousin of mine.”

Grace thought of all the things
he’d said to her about keeping her safe. “Does he know about
this?”

Myra shrugged. “I don’t think
so.”

“He won’t be happy,” Grace said,
crossing her arms.

“Oh, he will be.”

“Happy to find out you kidnapped
me?”

Myra let out a sigh. “You don’t
understand yet… you’re very important to our family. But Lisbeth
will tell you soon.”

She glared at Myra. “I want to know
now.”

“You seem tired. Would you like to
rest?” Myra motioned to the cot. “You can lay down until
lunch.”

Grace shook her head. “I can’t
rest.”

Myra stood up. She closed one of
the flaps and walked to the other. “Well, Lady Grace, I will leave
you in here. If you can’t rest, you can come out here with me and
help me cook.”

Grace glanced toward the clearing.
A chance at escape. At the thought of trying to run again, she
realized her exhaustion. She hadn’t slept much last night after her
meeting with Dar. “I’ll stay in here,” she told Myra.

“If you need anything, ask Caleb
or Vin,” Myra said, motioning to the horse-man. “I’ll be out in the
clearing.”

She closed the flap behind her. It
was dark again, and Grace was sure it would soon be stuffy again.
She lay down on the cot, taking a deep breath. She would try to
escape again, but she could hardly think about even standing. The
cot smelled like roses. She ran her fingers over the material and
soon dozed off.

* * *

Chapter Six

The man burst into Governor Peter’s
dining room, the door swinging back on its hinges. Dar dropped his
fork in surprise. The man was a servant of the prince, and he stood
against the doorpost, panting. “Sir Dar, I have an urgent message
for you and your father from the prince.”

Dar’s father stood up, shooting Dar
a questioning look.

“Yes?” Dar asked the servant. His
breath hitched; what could this be about?

The servant glanced at the other
men in the room. He motioned for Dar and his father to join him in
the corridor. “Please.”

They walked into the corridor. Dar
looked at the servant. “What is it?”

“Lady Grace has disappeared,” the
servant said breathlessly.

Dar swore and clenched his fists.
He nearly punched the wall next to him, but forced his arms to
remain still.

“What do you mean?” Dar’s father
demanded.

This was what Dar was trying to
avoid. Why couldn’t they let things be?

“She went into the forest with a
female servant,” the man explained. “We finally went looking for
them—Thurma was unconscious, and Lady Grace was gone.” He glanced
toward the closed dining room door. “He wanted me to tell you
before the others. He thought perhaps you’d know what happened to
her.”

Father stared at him. “Why would we
know?”

“Father,” Dar said, his voice
constricted, “I have something to tell you.”

Father turned toward him, raising
his eyebrows.

Dar told the servant, “Tell our man
Greg to get my horse ready. I’ll ride back with you in fifteen
minutes.”

The servant hesitated. “I’ll tell
the others about her disappearance first,” he said, then waited, as
if for Dar’s permission.

“Yes, all right,” Dar said,
pulling his father down the corridor. He found a sitting room for
the two of them and closed the door behind them.

“What is this about?” Father
asked.

Dar took a deep breath and ran his
hands through his hair. He forced himself to calm down. She’d be
fine. They’d keep her safe. They may even contact him before he
found them. “Lady Grace and I had a short relationship.”

Father crossed his arms.
“When?”

“When I was courting Lady
Rebekah.”

“Why?”

Dar shook his head. The answer to
that question was much too complex; he wasn’t sure even he knew the
answer. “It lasted about six months, but the Protectors found
out.”

“You didn’t sleep with her, did
you?” Father asked, his voice rough.

“No, of course not.” Dar frowned.
“But the prince had his eye on her. He sent a man to her and warned
her about me.”

“How much did he tell
her?”

“He didn’t say anything about the
shape changing or the curse. He just said I was dangerous for her.”
Dar paced around the sitting room. “I left the next day. That’s why
I came home.”

“Do you know where she is?” Father
asked, his tone bordering on accusatory.

“I can guess,” Dar said, meeting
his father’s eyes.

Father shifted weight from one foot
to the other. “You mean… did you tell anyone about the two of
you?”

“No.”

“Did she?” he pressed.

“No. I don’t think so. But someone
had to have found out… the Protector who spoke to Grace knew about
certain times when we were together, when I could have sworn no one
else was around…”

Father raised his eyebrows. “You
think one of us was there? Or perhaps a Cosa?”

“How else could they have found
out?” Dar asked. He’d asked this question dozens of times before.
How did they know about the greenhouse, the masquerade ball? An
Avialie or a Cosa had to have been there. Someone had masked his
aura. Someone had betrayed them to the Protectors.

“There are other ways they could
have found out… perhaps you weren’t careful enough.”

“Not even Lady Rebekah found out,
and she knows everything.” Dar shook his head with a sigh. “The
point is… they must think she’ll break the curse.”

Father nodded, silent. His eyes
lingered on the fireplace, though Dar tried to make eye contact.
“Do you think she will?”

Dar gritted his teeth. “No. Nothing
is going to break the curse, Father.”

“But if—”

“No,” Dar said, raising his voice.
He couldn’t listen to buts and ifs. The last time they’d played
this game, nine people had died. He wasn’t going to make the same
mistakes as before. “I’m going to help the prince and bring her
home. You should send a letter to Mother asking her if she knows
anything.”

“Maybe I should contact Lisbeth,”
Father said, his gaze still looking anywhere but at Dar.

“If she doesn’t know about Grace,
I don’t want her to find out,” Dar said. He approached his father,
standing directly in front of him, demanding his attention.
“Father, please. I don’t want anything to happen to Lady Grace and
I don’t want anyone else to die.”

Father met his eyes for a moment.
“I don’t, either.” His voice sounded tired. Dar briefly wondered
whether he should have told him about Sierra after all.

“I’ll bring a small bag with me,”
Dar said, moving to the door. “Will you stay in Nyad?”

“If the governor allows it,”
Father said. “I’ll send you a message.”

Dar opened the door and paused.
“I’m going to bring her home. I won’t let it happen again.” He left
his father, hoping he’d heed his advice. If not… Dar shook his
head. He’d do anything to prevent more death, especially
Grace’s.

* * *

Dar made it to the prince’s camp in
an hour, the servant close behind him. The carriages had pulled
over on the side of the road, and servants and soldiers were spread
out in the forest, calling for Lady Grace.

Dar’s feet were unsteady from the
hard ride, so he took a moment to regain his balance before he
approached the prince and said, “Your Highness.”

The prince met him with a glare,
his face drawn. “Sir Dar, my servant has told you of Lady Grace’s
disappearance?”

“Yes,” Dar said, catching his
breath. “Perhaps you could tell me more of the snake
bite.”

Prince William motioned to the left
about ten feet away, where a heavyset woman sat on theside of the
road, drinking water. “She woke up half an hour ago. We’re not sure
if the bite has any lasting effects.”

“May I?” Dar asked.

Prince William nodded stiffly. Dar
walked over to the woman and said, “Ma’am?”

“Yes?” the woman said. Her pallor
was slightly yellow, and she clutched the water skin, her knuckles
white.