Chapter 25 The Ticking Clock
~ brEN ~
A few days later, I stood at the side of the ballroom for yet another glittering dance—the events of this festival were all beginning to run together in my head—waiting nervously for Donavyn to return and hoping it didn’t show.
I could feel Hanson’s gaze on the back of my neck, so I returned to my chair between Grace and Faye, making certain I wasn’t ever alone, and pretending I was riveted by the latest gossip—which still mostly consisted of conjecture about which Lord had found which Lady in the maze, and who’d been absent from their spouses for a little longer than seemed innocent.
“…not like you, though—you are a lucky woman, Brennan.”
I blinked and had to think back, try to remember what Faye had just said that had Grace’s cheeks blazing red, and other women’s lips pursing either with disapproval, or to stifle outright laughter.
Oh. Right.
I instinctively rubbed the skin where my neck met my shoulder, and rolled my eyes. “It’s hardly scandalous, Lady Faye,” I said as casually as I could, but then buried my face in my goblet, because it was hard not to blush.
Donavyn and I had been in the dark that night, and rejoined the nobles as they worked back through the maze to return to the carriages.
It wasn’t until the next morning, in the bright light of day, that we’d realized I had marks on the spot where my neck met my shoulder—red bruising, and some small scrapes from Donavyn’s teeth.
I’d hidden them under leathers that first day, but with the events at night, it had been impossible to cover them completely, though I’d let some of my hair down in an attempt to distract.
Of course, Faye noticed.
Now, none of them wanted to let me live it down.
I hadn’t missed the envy in many of the ladies’ eyes, though. Or the cutting comments about wanton commoners that had peppered some of their conversations this week—though none went so far as to look at me when they said it.
Donavyn was firmly in the Fyrehold king’s circle of approval now. A trusted ally. And as his assistant, to ostracize me was to risk being excluded by the Royals.
Faye couldn’t have been happier. She teased me mercilessly, but I was beginning to understand that her true targets were the women who’d hoped Donavyn would find them in the maze.
God, what was wrong with these people?
But thoughts of Donavyn yanked me back to the coiled nerves in my belly.
Hanson and Ruin were both here tonight—they had been at every festival event, though rarely at meals during the day—and when some of the men disappeared for cards, inviting Ruin to join them, Donavyn had made excuses, because he wanted a chance to search Ruin’s room.
It was a risky undertaking, with little hope of success—if his story about Draeventhall was true, we suspected he’d grown even more cautious with any evidence of his purpose—but as Donavyn pointed out, with both of us present at the ball, it was unlikely he’d suspect us if he did notice anything disturbed.
I trusted Donavyn’s judgment, but I didn’t like having both of them out from under my eyes.
Especially with Hanson remaining here, watching me.
Donavyn had joined me in the ballroom, then we’d pretended to have a short, but sharp, whispered argument, before he left again, marching out of the ballroom at the same time as a few Lords, so it appeared he was annoyed with me, and off to play cards again.
I’d been avoiding Hanson ever since our conversation in the maze, making him wait while I considered his proposal. When we’d discussed it later, Donavyn suggested we allow cracks to appear in our unity that Hanson would believe he could exploit.
I knew it was a good plan, but I hated the idea of pretending to fight with Donavyn—and felt some nervousness about how the intense Lord might react.
Meanwhile, Donavyn had tried desperately to discern more from Ruin’s message, waited for him to send another—we had Benji back in the city tonight, in hopes Ruin would report again tomorrow. It was why Donavyn took the risk of the search—hoping to find something, anything, Ruin collected to send.
Until now, Hanson had satisfied himself with the occasional dark stare when Donavyn’s back was turned.
But apparently he’d grown impatient. Tonight he sat at the back of the cluster of noble women, in a chair, one sleekly booted ankle resting on the opposite knee, a cut crystal tumbler of an amber liquor in a glass that he sipped slowly, his eyes dark and intent. Like the king’s predator birds.
I felt his gaze like a touch, and knew I couldn’t hold him off much longer, but Donavyn insisted every moment he was forced to wait would only fuel his fire. So, I attempted to hold him off with warning glances—letting him know I hadn’t forgotten him, but that the time wasn’t right.
I’d met his intense gaze twice already, and turned again when Faye laughed with some of the others, to stare at him flatly.
I know you’re there. It isn’t the time. Don’t do it.
I prayed he perceived my intent as I tore my gaze from his and back to Grace—then my heart leaped because the wide, tall form of Donavyn appeared walking casually along the ballroom floor with a noble I didn’t know, both of them returning to our group.
Thank God. I had to look away from him and into my cup so I wouldn’t stare like a relieved puppy.
‘Did you find anything?’
‘No, dammit. Barely gained entry before there was too much foot traffic in the hallway and I had to get out the moment a gap presented.’
‘Maybe I should try. Men would see any attempt from me to get into his room as more suggestive than threatening—’
‘Absolutely not. Not until you’re properly trained. Ruin’s been on mission for months, his protocols are honed. If you accidentally trip a trap… no, Bren. It’s too risky.’
I knew he was right, but once again cursed the short training time I’d been allowed before we came. This was one area Gil and Voski had promised to train me. But there just hadn’t been time.
‘I’ll keep an eye on him and when our assistance arrives, we’ll increase the pressure. As always, we need more time. Next time you speak with Hanson, see what his plans are after the Festival concludes. I fear Ruin will disappear and we’ll lose our chance for proof…’
I tried not to stare at him, but I was so relieved he was back safely, and apparently unharmed, that I couldn’t stop watching him. He stood across from where I sat, on the other side of the little circle of ladies, a nobleman at his side that I recognized, but whose name I couldn’t remember.
When Grace took a sip from her drink, I leaned into her ear. “Do you know the name of the Lord standing with my Lord?” I asked quietly.
She nodded and turned her head to whisper back. “Lord Darrow. He’s a friend of my father’s. He’s a good man. A bit boring, but trustworthy.”
I was surprised that she added the last part, but thanked her and returned my eyes to Donavyn, who was much better than me at keeping his stance casual and attention on others as if he had no cares.
Suddenly, I felt very, very tired. And watching Donavyn, I found myself really looking at him for the first time in a while.
He was large, and vital, handsome, and admired in these circles. But did they see the small lines on his face that hadn’t been there when we arrived?
Did they notice the dark smudges under his eyes from lack of sleep?
He was exhausted.
Of course, most of these nobles stayed up almost all night, every night, then slept half the day away, nursing hangovers and occasionally ill-advised affairs. Perhaps they thought nothing of a General who looked a little haggard around the edges.
Donavyn caught me staring and took a slow sip from his drink, his eyes staying on mine. ‘You feel… unhappy? Are you well?’
‘I’m fine. Only tired. And worried about you.’
His attention was taken then by the Lord next to him nudging and leaning in to ask a question. Donavyn didn’t respond to me, but he sent a wash of love and reassurance through the bond, which I returned.
“Are they all like him?” Grace asked me quietly.
I startled. “You mean, Donavyn?”
Grace nodded, then her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean—I have no designs on him, Bren. I only wondered… the men of your Furyknights. Perhaps it is Vosgaarde? I do not know, but they are… very alive.”
Her eyes had slipped past me to the ballroom behind me, and I turned to follow her gaze, only to find Ruin returning with a handful of the others, all drinking and red-faced, though Ruin’s gaze seemed as sharp as ever.
He caught my look before I could turn away, and he smiled—but then his eyes darted past me to Grace over my shoulder.
Burning with furious fear, I turned in my chair to face Grace, holding her arm and met her eyes as intently as Hanson had ever done with me.
“You must listen to me, Grace: He is not safe. Furyknight Ruin is… he has earned his name, you understand?”
“I know. You warned me. I believe you. I don’t want him, Bren,” she assured me, her hand on my forearm, patting like she’d soothe me.
“Only… the men near you are dashing, and vital, and there is something among them that the men here in Fyrehold do not possess. I don’t know what it is, but I wondered if they are all that way, or if we are simply graced with the cream of the crop, as they would say? ”
My breath rushed out of me. “Donavyn is a man above men,” I said sincerely. “Ruin is his opposite. Don’t be fooled by the outward appearance, Grace.”
“You misunderstand me,” she said with that small smile.
“The handsomeness is appealing. But there are many handsome men in Fyrehold. It isn’t their faces or shoulders that draw me so much as their…
” she trailed off, frowning. But to my horror, her eyes slipped back to Ruin as she considered the word she was looking for.
“They are in possession of something—a confidence that does not come from wealth or birthright. They… know themselves?” she said, looking back to me for some kind of approval that I wasn’t sure whether to give.
She’d accurately described one of the things I’d always loved about Donavyn—and part of why he made me feel so safe.
“Yes,” I said carefully. “But that assurance… that capability… unless it is applied to your protection, it can steal from you, Grace. Please. Promise me… Promise me you’ll be careful and you will never allow yourself to be alone with Ruin.
He is not preferable to an old, boring man, I assure you. Promise me!” I hissed.
Her brows rose. “I give you my word, Bren. I believe you. I’m sorry if I made you uneasy. They are simply thoughts. You see? This is what my parents warned me about. I am simply thoughtless with my questions.”
“No, no, Grace. I just want you safe. That’s all.”
She smiled, but it looked more like a wince. “Thank you, my friend.”
I nodded and squeezed her hand. I thought she meant what she said.
But I also suspected that she truly was sweet and good and easily wounded.
And if she was growing desperate, a man like Ruin who used his power to manipulate would influence her quickly.
The way she yearned for adventure and was drawn to someone dashing…
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ Donavyn sent quickly.
‘I’m worried Grace might be enamored with Ruin,’ I reassured him. ‘She swears she’s not. But she admires both of you and she keeps asking questions… God, I want him away from her. I want him away from every woman!’
I didn’t like the burning rising in my chest at these thoughts, so I excused myself from Grace and made my way around the chairs towards the refreshment tables.
At this point in the evening when the nobles were mostly drunk, they usually waited for the servants to bring them drinks and food, so there were few people around the table, and none that I knew.
I asked for a fresh cup of wine, then waited, my fingers playing on the tablecloth as I forced myself to breathe deeply and slowly as Voski had taught me when I needed to calm, or sleep.
I couldn’t panic every time a woman looked at Ruin. Of course they would. He was handsome. And very charming.
But all I could see when I looked at him was a deadly serpent.
I couldn’t decide if it was better to have him under our eyes so we could watch for the havoc he wreaked, or far, far away where I’d never have to watch him destroy anyone again.
When a shadow appeared at my left shoulder, I assumed it was Donavyn coming to check on me. I thanked the servant who handed me a fresh cup.
“I’m fine,” I said quietly, nodding to the servant and turning back. “I only—”
It was Hanson’s dark, piercing gaze hovering close enough that I could feel the heat from his body, though he was careful not to touch me.
“Oh.” The little sound broke from me before I could catch it. I cleared my throat as something in his expression warmed.
“Good evening, Lady Brennan,” he purred.
I nodded once. “Good evening, Lord Hanson.”
“You look beautiful this evening.”
“Thank you.” I ducked my head and stepped aside to head back to the circle of nobles. Hanson didn’t touch me, but he stepped into my path quickly, keeping his chin low and his voice below the noise of the ball around us.
“I will only delay you a moment,” he said hurriedly.
“There is not much time left. I need your commitment, or… well, let me be as clear as I can,” he said, with a pointed glance to meet my eyes.
“If I don’t have your cooperation within days, I will be left with no choice but to move ahead with…
the allies with whom I am currently aligned. ”
I stiffened. “Move ahead with what?”
He stared at me, slowly shaking his head.
“Do men truly share their secrets with you simply because you ask? I have told you what I can—more than I should have already. So, perhaps that is your power? Whatever it is, just know: My proposal remains. And your assistance and presence is desired. Greatly.” His eyes trailed down from my face to my body, then back up.
“Please give me your decision before the end of the Festival.”
Then he turned on his heel and walked out without a backwards glance.
I was so stunned, I just stood there watching him leave. When I finally came back to my senses, Donavyn was at my side.
“Are you well, my love?” he murmured, taking my hand and brushing my knuckles with a kiss, as if he were merely inviting me to dance.
I followed him out onto the dance floor, but spoke to him in the bond, my head spinning.
‘Donavyn… we’re running out of time.’
And even though he didn’t respond, I felt the weight of conviction, determination, and fear settle on him as he swept me across the floor.