21. Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Ahard knock rattled the door, shaking Emmaline from sleep.
Pulling in air, she struggled to separate reality from the nightmares that had been plaguing her sleep. The room was bathed in golden afternoon light, dust motes swirling lazily in the glow.
Too bright. She squinted, trying to make sense of the new noise.
“Are you home!” Cassidy’s voice was muffled but distinct.
Emmaline pressed her palms against her temples as she sat up. The pain was still there, a dull, insistent drum, but the razor-sharp stabs had dampened. The fog in her mind was thin enough that she could string together a thought without wading through confusion.
“Emmaline?” This time, the voice was rougher, gruffer. “I can hear you stirring. Come let us in.”
It was Lara, Cassidy’s bonded Corgi.
Emmaline groaned and let herself flop back onto the pillow. Shite.
“If you’re dead and a ghost, you’d better have left a note.” Lara’s voice held the usual mix of impatience and disapproval.
Silence stretched on the other side of the door, too brief to be reassuring. Then Cassidy’s voice rang out again. “We’re coming in!”
Panic shot through her, and she lurched upright, gripping the frame of her bed for balance as the world spun in protest. Her gaze darted around the room, scanning for the robe she had worn after her shower. Had she draped it over the chair? Tossed it by the dresser? She couldn’t remember.
Had that been today? Yesterday? Two days ago? Her stomach tightened as a deeper panic clawed up her throat. What day was it? Was it Monday? Had she missed work?
Her breath came faster, hands fumbling as she searched for anything to cover herself, but even as her fingers found the discarded robe, another thought coiled, dark and bitter, beneath the panic.
Who the hell cares if I miss work? She clenched her jaw as something hot and ugly simmered beneath her skin.
She was just going to kill Caelith, anyway. Maybe even Isolde, too.
The thought wound its way through her mind, intoxicating. And the corner of her mouth lifted at the idea as she made her way to the kitchen counter, bracing herself against the hard surface just as the door handle began to turn.
Her brows pulled together. Then, understanding clicked into place.
She had given Cassidy a key to her flat years ago, back when she’d spent days on end at the castle trying to cancel Lord Greymane’s leasing contracts with the neighboring herd of mist elk—towering, ghost-pale creatures that roamed in great, shifting tides.
They were peaceful beasts and had been on the land for years, but Greymane had wanted to install a falconry range there instead.
“Asshole.” She scowled as the door opened.
Squaring her shoulders, she stood straighter, ignoring the exhaustion clawing at her bones. She needed to look stronger than she felt. It was time to tell Lara what she had done.
The door shoved inward, and Cassidy and Lara both tried stepping through at once, their combined bulk wedging them in place. Cassidy pushed against Lara’s thick, furry shoulder, shoving with all her might. “Get out of the way, you slobbering mountain of fur!”
Lara let out a long-suffering huff, adjusting her weight just enough to allow Cassidy to squeeze through first.
Emmaline blinked, then took a long breath. Here we go.
Lara followed close behind, her massive paws making the floorboards creak beneath her weight.
It was easy to forget, sometimes, just how large the Corgis really were.
And Lara was small for her kind. Most were the size of horses.
Their Bonded were called Riders for a reason.
Either way, standing there, level with the kitchen counters, shoulders broad enough to block the doorway, Lara was impossible to ignore.
“I do not slobber!” she huffed, ears flattening as she nudged Cassidy hard in the back, sending the woman stumbling into the counter Emmaline was leaning against. “You drool more in your sleep than I have ever slobbered in my entire life.”
Cassidy let out an undignified squawk, shoving her hair out of her face. “That is slander—”
“Fact,” Lara shot back, lifting her head high, her tail giving a single, self-satisfied wag.
Emmaline pressed her lips together, biting back a smile.
Here stood two of the Vale’s greatest warriors—Rider and Corgi, bonded through battle and blood, their names whispered in both reverence and warning—and yet, somehow, they had the energy to bicker like siblings in her kitchen. It was a wonder their civilization had ever survived.
“Sure,” Emmaline deadpanned, arching a brow. “Come on in.”
Cassidy finally wrenched herself free from Lara’s not-so-gentle shoving and turned to Emmaline with a grin. “There you are.”
She reached forward without hesitation, wrapping Emmaline in a firm hug.
The warmth of it, the solidness of her, sent a sharp sting behind Emmaline’s eyes.
Cassidy pulled back. “I’m sorry we missed ladies’ night. I heard it was a good one.”
“Yes, well…” Emmaline bit her lip, gaze flicking downward.
Cassidy’s brow lifted, her sharp gaze catching the hesitation instantly. “I also heard you wanted to talk with Lara and me.”
Emmaline exhaled, blowing a tangle of hair from her eyes. “I do. Though I didn’t expect you to come all the way down here.”
“You weren’t at Rider School this morning,” Lara said, stepping forward. “And Ursula said you missed brunch.” Her amber eyes narrowed slightly. “She also said you were with some guy.”
Cassidy folded her arms, watching Emmaline closely. “We were worried.”
It was Sunday, then. And they were worried about her.
Emmaline swallowed, forcing the quiver from her lips. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—fall apart now.
She coughed, rolling her shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance. “Sorry about that. Rough night.”
Cassidy turned toward the stove, setting the kettle on with practiced ease. “Did you go out again?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, already reaching for the teacups in the cabinet. Her fingers brushed over the empty spot where Emmaline’s mother’s cup usually sat. She stilled. Her hand didn’t move away, didn’t reach for another. Just… hovered in a pause.
Her head turned slightly, scanning the kitchen, past the cloth Emmaline had placed over the crack Deyric had left. Not finding what she was looking for, she frowned and grabbed a different cup instead, placing it beside the other.
When she turned back, her gaze flickered over Emmaline. “You look awful,” she said, blunt as ever. Then, with the barest hint of a wince, added, “No offense.”
“Thanks.” Emmaline started, but before she could continue, Lara moved in.
The Corgi shoved her snout into Emmaline’s chest, sniffing deep, pressing her weight forward as if scent alone could pin her in place.
“Hey!” Emmaline huffed a laugh, trying to push the giant creature away.
“That’s not a hangover, Cas.” Lara sniffed once more before stepping back, her expression unreadable.
Emmaline’s stomach tightened. “It’s nothing.”
Lara knew something. Smelled something. But Emmaline couldn’t—wouldn’t—talk about it.
“You sure?” The teasing edge in Cassidy’s tone had vanished. “Looks like a hangover to me.”
“That is because you are not a Corgi.” Lara let out a massive exhale before rolling her eyes so dramatically it was a wonder her entire body didn’t follow. “You are virtually scent-blind.”
Cassidy shot her an unimpressed look.
“Really, guys. It’s nothing.” Emmaline took a careful step back.
Cassidy’s head jerked up, her entire posture shifting. Then she looked at Lara. “What is it?”
Lara’s ears twitched, her dark eyes narrowing. “Not sure. I need a better look, but she’s clearly rattled.”
Emmaline’s heart lurched. She didn’t want their concern. She didn’t want their pity. She didn’t deserve it. And she definitely didn’t want them getting involved, because if they did, they would try to stop her.
She didn’t need saving. She needed vengeance. Her fingers dug into her palms. She had to distract them.
“I…” She steadied her breath. “I killed Lady Allistair.”
Cassidy stiffened, and Lara’s massive head swung toward her. “You what?”
Emmaline’s throat tightened, but she refused to look away.
“I killed her,” she repeated, the words like lead on her tongue. “It was an accident. I was… jealous of her relationship with Caelith.”
The moment the name left her lips, a violent wave of nausea rolled through her. Her stomach clenched, and her vision swam.
“I just wanted her to trip. To embarrass her.” She clamped her teeth down against the nausea, forcing herself to continue. “But she flew right into the statue.”
Lara’s mouth fell open. “You what?”
“It was over before I even knew what was happening,” Emmaline finished.
Lara sat back onto her haunches, studying Emmaline, then Cassidy, then back again.
“That’s what you’ve been keeping from me?” Her voice was quieter now, thoughtful. “Why our healing has been off?”
“Emmaline had hoped to prove Caelith was her mate by the Solstice.” Cassidy nodded, fingers wringing together, worry etched across her face. “Which would, theoretically, protect her from punishment for the accidental death.”
Lara let out a deep breath, her massive chest rising and falling in measured control.
“Her mate?” she repeated slowly.
Heat crawled up Emmaline’s neck, flushing her cheeks with mortification.
Goddess above. Hearing it aloud now—after everything, after Deyric—felt deranged, like something only a fool, or a madwoman, would have believed. Her fingers dug into the back of a kitchen chair, gripping it for balance as the shame settled deep in her belly.
Lara turned to her again. “It was an accident?”
Emmaline nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She hadn’t wanted to kill Lady Allistair. That had never been her intention.
Lara’s whiskers twitched. Her tail lay motionless behind her, not even a flicker of movement betraying her thoughts.