Page 25 of Lady Knight and the Thief

Cypress nodded her approval. Inside the keep, such things were common. But, she knew it was less so in the countryside. She hadn’t been aware that human mothers rarely survive birthing a child of mixed heritages, though.

“Are there many of the Fair Folk within your camp?”

He glanced toward her with a roguish grin. “Lass, I am thePrinceof the Fair Folk. What do you think?”

“You sure like to throw that title around when it suits you,” Cypress noted, rolling her eyes at him.

“Well, I am.”

“You’ll wear the birthright of your mother without hesitation, but not that of your father?”

Torren snarled at her. “I don’t wantanythingfrom that man.”

Cypress held her free hand up. “Just an observation,Princeling,”she said as they reached the first of the buildings. There were several arrows embedded in the thatched roof, scorch marks along the grass.

“That seems… recent,” Cypress remarked, mounting her horse once more. Her instincts were screaming thatsomethingwas wrong, but she couldn’t tell what. The wind blew through the trees all around, howling in her ears.

“That it does, Lass. That it does,” Torren agreed, similarly mounting his horse. Within moments, he also had the small hunting bow strung, fingers inches away from the quiver as they urged their horses to keep moving.

“I presume the village hadn’t been raided on your last visit?”

“Do you think I would have come back this way if it had?”

“Indulge me.”

“The village had been lively andintactwhen I left it, Lass,” Torren said, glaring at her for the briefest of moments.

Cypress looked past him to a half-burned cottage. From far away, the cottages had looked whole and unblemished. The majority of the homes had scorch marks where flames had licked the walls, and blood spatter caked the areas not coated in ash.

The pair kept their horses moving through the wreckage until they reached the building Torren had pointed out. It was largely intact, though badly damaged.

“Do you think anyone is home?” Cypress asked, as they hadn’t seen a single other soul since their arrival.

“She would not have abandoned her village at the first sign of trouble, but I have no doubt she would have returned to the Wylds if she did leave. If the place is abandoned, we’ll meet up with her at my camp.”

“You sound awfully sure of yourself.”

“My people can always return home,” he said, then dismounted his horse.

Cypress did the same, leaving Seren to graze on the bit of grass to the side of the cottage. Torren rapped his knuckles on the door twice, then said something in a language Cypress couldn’t place.

Silence greeted him.

Torren tried again and gave Cypress an apologetic smile. Still, nothing but silence answered, so he pushed the door open.

The interior of the small building was dark, the window entirely concealed by a large plant that filtered the meager light from the waning day. Shelving covered every wall from baseboard to ceiling, which once must have held a treasure trove of herbs and tinctures. Nothing more than a few empty jars and vials lined the shelves, and various powders spilled on the wood. Broken glass littered the floor.

“Looks like either she made a hasty retreat or someone drove her out,” Cypress commented, pushing the toe of her boot through the debris on the floor.

“Or both,” Torren retorted as he ducked under a curtain that led to the rear of the home.

Cypress hummed her agreement, trailing after Torren as he sifted through the wreckage of the cottage.

Torren took a few more minutes to comb through the debris, leaving no pile unturned, before he turned back and looked at Cypress. “It’s not wise to linger past dark. Let's find somewhere to camp off the road.”

Cypress made a motion with her hand as if to say,be my guest, and nodded her head for him to lead the way.

Torren rolled his storm grey eyes at her, but walked out of the house without a backward glance. Once outside, Cypress quickly mounted her horse, trotting after Torren into the night.