CHAPTER TEN #2
Emmery’s throat swelled with all the things she couldn’t bear to say, all the questions that plagued her mind each night.
Why had Briar freed her from Castle Dusk’s dungeon?
Was she truly on her side over her oldest friend?
How many of their interactions were genuine?
Was any of it true? Or had she played Emmery too, just as Vesper had?
Her steps faltered and she stood stone-still.
Aera leapt from her shoulder and placed herself between the two groups, likely to flash her fangs if anyone stepped out of line.
At her side Destonne studied Emmery as if he could extract her every hidden emotion and, no doubt, formulate a plan. Then his attention flicked to Briar.
“It’s a pleasure to have your company, Briar,” he said. His deep voice boomed in the cavernous entry hall and drew attention to them. Emmery stifled the urge to strangle him as her entire body stiffened with the need to hide. “I see my last letter reached you well.”
Emmery threw him a sideways glance and frowned. Letter? They’d been writing to one another? Why hadn’t he mentioned it? But then again, why would he? They’d never confided in one another, let alone shared information in a civilized manner.
Briar’s gaze flicked to Emmery then back to The King of Thorns.
She gave him a weak smile and replied, “Your Majesty. Thank you for inviting me into your”—she gave the hallway a once over and frowned—“stunning home.” Since that was the most polite string of words Emmery had ever heard leave Briar’s mouth, she undoubtedly wanted something that hadn’t been fulfilled yet.
Likely to see Fionn. She would be on her best behavior, but not for long.
She bowed at the waist but Destonne waved the gesture off, though Emmery caught his brief flash of impish joy. Cocky bastard.
“Please, call me Dez.” He swept past them like a dark deity, and when Brennen followed, they left Emmery with a dumb expression on her face and no clue how to proceed. Or where to even start.
Betrayal’s cold grip clutched Emmery, as her eyes met Briar’s. What did that look mean? A lump lodged in her throat, and though she swallowed around it, it remained, unrelenting.
Then Briar stalked across the foyer, flung her arms around Emmery, and squeezed the wind from her lungs in an embarrassing wheeze.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” she murmured into Emmery’s hair. “I never wanted to lie to you, but Vesper asked me to. And then I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know his plans, what he was going to do to you or with the kingdom or the pactum and I hadn’t seen him in so long and—”
“Bri,” Emmery stopped her friend’s prattling, her voice muffled in her shoulder. Briar’s sweet lavender smell swept over Emmery and she returned her embrace, throwing away all her doubts in exchange for this tender moment. They could deal with everything later. “I’m glad to see you.”
Briar gripped Emmery’s shoulders and held her at arm’s length the way Vesper had, not to examine for injuries, it seemed, but to search for forgiveness.
“Thank Deimos you're alright. I was worried about you. I know it’s been months and I should have written to you too, but—” She sucked in a winded breath.
“I wanted to apologize in person, not over some stupid scribbled words on paper. Though you deserve far more.” Briar heaved another impossibly long breath and yanked Emmery in for a second ferocious hug.
Emmery wouldn’t have minded the letters, though she was glad to see Briar with her own eyes and feel the sincerity of her heart.
True, it was something almost impossible to convey through paper, but notes like the ones Maela had written were keepsakes.
Like The Nameless Book she’d tucked into the waistband of her trousers to free her arms.
It wasn’t fair of her, and Emmery knew it, but she’d forgiven Briar the moment she saw her, though she wouldn’t extend the same to Vesper. Not yet. They had far more to work through, complications of his own creation, and an exceedingly complex past. Briar had merely complied with Vesper’s plan.
Several paces away, Destonne and Brennen were deep in conversation, though the King focussed, not on his wolf companion, but on the two of them. His brow arched in a silent question.
Emmery’s breaths slivered and she nudged her friend back. “You’re crushing my bones.”
“Sorry.” But the word held no remorse and Briar grinned.
Tension still threaded Emmery’s shoulders after she rolled them out. She doubted she would ever get accustomed to that level of affection.
“I want to know all about your time here,” Briar said.
Her eyes glimmered with the promise of gossip as her gaze darted between Emmery, Destonne, and Brennen.
“But I’m not here just to see you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m overwhelmingly happy to know you’re in one piece, but I’m also here to see Fionn. ”
Her gaze turned to Destonne with apprehension, but not a morsel of fear. The only time Emmery had truly recognized fear in Briar’s eyes was the day Callias was mortally wounded by Hollowhounds.
“Ah, yes,” Destonne intervened. He looked at her like a lion assessed its prey. “At the risk of appearing to be a poor host, Brennen will show you to Fionn’s chambers.” The King gave Brennen his famously bored expression, then his eyes slid back to Emmery.
Gods, why did he have to look at her like that?
Her stomach plummeted as he drew out his next words like spilled syrup. “I’m afraid I have plans.”
Briar shot her a sly smirk. “Plans?”
Emmery dragged a hand down her face as her insides partook in a series of somersaults and twists of dread.
The long, tedious ride had zapped the strength from her muscles and sunset couldn’t be more than an hour away.
He couldn’t possibly have what she thought in mind.
Emmery leaned into Briar, her voice low, to ask, “Are you staying long?”
“As long as Old Thorny lets me.” Briar angled her head toward the King.
Arms crossed, Destonne tapped his foot impatiently on the marble, a glimmer of amusement in his expression. Emmery had desperately hoped he would overlook the lessons today. It seemed she wasn’t that lucky.
“Do you need me?” Briar asked, the unspoken promise in her question: I’ll be your backup. Say the word.
Emmery shook her head and raised her brows at Destonne who studied her like a magic trick—too fascinating to look away for fear of missing a crucial detail or sleight of hand. “I’ll tell you later. Give Fionn a hug for me.”
Briar snatched her up in one last bone-shattering squeeze then followed Brennen up the stairs to Fionn’s chambers.
As Destonne sauntered to Emmery, his obnoxious grace struck the floor with each step. His eyes skimmed down her body and she fought the urge to cross her arms.
“You’ll need to change. I’ll have Talia prepare something for you.” He spun on his heel and strode down the corridor, then called over his shoulder, “Don’t forget your water wings.” His hearty chuckle ricocheted off the barren walls as Destonne disappeared down the hall.