Page 126 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
Ylva lowered her gaze once more to the scrolls, letting the scratch of parchment and the hush of turning pages steady her pulse. After a while, as though the question had simply drifted into her mind, she asked softly, ‘Why is Eris travelling to Velunthar?’
The air shifted.
Not dramatically. There was no crash, no flare of magic, but something in the room tightened, as if the very stones had drawn breath.
She felt Hagan go still. Utterly still. The scroll in his hand crinkled faintly as his fingers curled into it.
‘What do you mean?’ His voice was quiet. Too quiet.
‘She told me.’
‘You?’ His head turned sharply. Ylva nodded, keeping her expression open, mild. ‘Why would she tellyouthat?’
She lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. ‘She mentioned it casually the last time she was here. She came to the cells to say goodbye. Said later on she’d be going to Velunthar.’ Ylva let a beat pass. ‘She directed that part at Arden Briar. He’s Fae.’
She prayed the lie felt natural. It did sound like Eris. She was theatrical and cruel enough to whisper such things simply to watch someone squirm.
Hagan’s silence stretched, then eased.
‘I’m the one who is meant to attack the Fae lands,’ he muttered, more to himself than to her. ‘Not her.’
Ylva traced a finger along the edge of the scroll. ‘Maybeshe’s suspicious of you.’
Of course she would be. He was, after all, rifling through ancient texts in search of a way to kill her.
Hagan pushed abruptly to his feet. The legs of his chair scraped against the stone. He called for a servant, and within moments two witches appeared, heads bowed.
‘Prepare everything,’ he ordered. ‘We leave in two days.’
Ylva forced her face into stillness. Could it truly be so simple? Was he genuinely about to abandon the drakonian keep and march towards Fae territory because of a whisper she had planted?
‘Erase the joy from your face,’ Hagan said suddenly.
She stiffened, not daring to turn.
‘We’re not leaving because of you,’ he continued coolly from the centre of the chamber. ‘I always intended to attack the Fae next. I’ve merely delayed. This keep holds a wealth of scrolls I wished to read.’ He sighed, irritation lacing the sound. ‘I suppose I can take them with me.’
Ylva inclined her head, meek and obedient.
Inside, however, her thoughts raced.
If he moved the witches, if he uprooted them all, then perhaps the prison would shift. Perhaps the walls that caged Arden would weaken. Perhaps movement and chaos would create a fracture wide enough for them to slip through.
She kept her expression blank.
And waited.
She did not dare look at him.
She could not see where he stood, nor what he was doing, but she felt him in the room. There was a sudden shift in the air, a tightening of the silence. Instinct screamed at her to turn, to defend herself, yet she remained rigid in her chair, eyes fixed on the parchment before her.
It would be worse if she moved.
He came from behind.
Her hair was seized in a brutal fist and wrenched backwards. The force tore her from the chair and she struck the stone floor hard, the breath knocked from her lungs as the warmth of the chamber seeped into her cheek.
Ylva cried out, more in shock than pain.
