I kept walking. The stables came into view, the windows glowing with the yellow light of lanterns. A large fawn-colored wolven was at the entry, clawing and digging at the door.
“Dammit.” Elijah grabbed my arm. “Give me a sec.”
I stopped, looking down at where his hand was around my arm. Slowly, I lifted my gaze to his.
“Yeah, I know. I just saw you tear a man’s heart out. I probably shouldn’t be grabbing you, but you need to listen to me,” Elijah said. “I don’t know what the hell is going on between you and that girl, but it ain’t nothing. Don’t even bother telling me it is. I know better.”
My jaw locked.
“And I don’t care about that right now. What I do care about is you—what you’ve been working toward for years. Not just your brother. What you have going on here and at Spessa’s End. It’s been working because these men and women are loyal to you. They believe in you,” he said, his face inches from mine. “And right or wrong, they will only see the Maiden for what they know her as: a symbol of what has taken so much from them.”
His stare held mine. “And while they will follow your orders, more than a few brows were raised when they heard about what you did to Jericho. And more than a few tongues were wagging after you all arrived, with how you were acting with her. This keep is big but not so big they don’t know where you spent several hours tonight.”
Fucking gods.
“And I’m betting that was also what Orion was being fed before he decided to bring his ass to my study,” he said, the wind catching the snow on the ground and whipping it into a frenzy. “You go in there, treating her like anything other than what she is supposed to be? With your father making his way here? Wanting her head?” Over his voice, Kieran rammed the wood. “The people here will even stand against their King for you, but if they think you’ve gotten yourself wrapped around the godsdamn Maiden, you run the risk of losing their support. You don’t want that.”
Elijah was absolutely correct. My father was coming. He wanted her head, and he was the King. His command superseded mine, except for here. In Solis, they were loyal to me. It was the only reason I was even standing where I was. But if I lost their support?
Poppy lost her life.
That panic and pain threatened to return, but I didn’t allow it. I would do anything to make sure that didn’t happen. Anything. Even if it meant becoming what she loathed the most.
The Dark One.
“I know,” I told him.
Elijah nodded and dropped my arm. I turned and rounded the corner of the keep.
Kieran backed off from the barn doors, his head whipping toward me. His growl was low and furious.
“It’s okay.” I ran my left hand over his back as I passed him. Fury at the scent of blood and the sight of it matting the fur on his leg and waist broke through the ice encasing my insides.
I let that anger in as I went up to the barn doors. I wasn’t keeping my strength in check as I leaned back, kicking the center of the door. Wood splintered and gave way. The doors swung open, and all I allowed myself to feel was the anger as I quickly took in what was playing out in front of me.
I saw the guards. The rearing horses. Fucking Jericho. And Poppy. I saw her, brave and bold as ever, the bloodstone dagger in her grasp.
“Hawke!” Poppy cried out, relief evident in her voice, and I didn’t let myself feel a damn thing. She started for me. “Thank the gods you’re okay.”
Phillips lurched forward, grabbing her arm. “Stay back from him.”
My gaze swiveled toward him—toward his grip on her arm. Poppy tugged herself free.
She turned to Jericho. “Kill him!” she shouted, “He was the one—” Her eyes went wide, having caught sight of Kieran coming up behind me. “Hawke, behind you!”
Phillips grabbed her again, this time around the waist.
“It’s okay,” I told her, lifting the crossbow and pulling the trigger.
The bolt slammed into my target, knocking Phillips back from Poppy with such force that the guard was impaled on the pole behind them as Poppy toppled forward onto her knees.
I lowered the crossbow as she looked to where Jericho stood, the shaggy-haired bastard smiling. Then she saw Phillips’ fallen sword lying among the straw. I knew the exact moment she saw the blood dripping onto it—saw Phillips. She jerked.
Luddie, the other guard, shouted, lifting his sword as he charged forward. “With my sword and my—”
Delano fired a bolt as he stepped out of the shadows of the stalls, catching Luddie from behind and taking him to the straw-strewn ground.
The last guard made a run for it. I couldn’t remember his name.
Kieran was faster, leaping into the air. He landed on the mortal, his claws digging into his back as he clamped his powerful jaws around the Huntsman’s neck, snapping it.
There was silence.
That didn’t last either.
Jericho strode forward, smirking as he looked down at Poppy. “I’m so glad I’m here to witness this moment.”
“Shut up, Jericho,” I bit out, the wind whipping at my back.
Poppy lifted her head, her eyes locking with mine. Her braid had fallen over her shoulder, and that one strand of hair was in her face, as always. I realized she wasn’t wearing her cloak. Had Phillips planned to take her out unprotected in the weather? She would’ve frozen or become ill. I didn’t feel a smidgen of guilt for killing the imbecile.
“Hawke?” she whispered, her empty hand grasping at the damp straw.
I felt nothing.
Poppy recoiled, her chest rising rapidly.
I was nothing.
“Please tell me I can kill her,” Jericho said. “I know exactly what pieces I want to cut up and send back.”
“Touch her, and you’ll lose more than a hand this time,” I warned him, my gaze never leaving hers. “We need her alive.”
A BROKEN BREATH
“You’re no fun,” Jericho muttered as Poppy stared up at me. “Have I told you that before?”
“A time or a dozen,” I said.
Poppy flinched.
She’d flinched because of me. I couldn’t let myself process that. Nor could I allow myself to see what I did in her eyes. I already knew what was there. Disbelief. Dawning understanding. Horror. Pain. Betrayal—
I looked away, my gaze skipping over the bloodied straw and bodies. “This mess needs to be cleaned up.”
Kieran shook his head, then rose. The sound of his bones shortening and cracking back into place only lasted seconds. Once more, he stood beside me in his mortal form. I looked for signs of his injury, seeing only a faint mark on his side. I raised a brow at the torn breeches. Usually, he made no attempt to make sure his clothing survived the transition. I imagined he’d done it for her. My jaw locked once more.
“This isn’t the only mess that needs to be cleaned up,” Kieran said, stretching his neck muscles.
I knew he wasn’t talking about her. He was talking about me. This mess I’d created—one gaining an audience. People were filling the shadows of the barn and behind me, drawn by the commotion.
I looked at Poppy. She’d sat back, her chest still rising too fast, too shallowly. “You and I need to talk.”