Page 85 of Lady Knight and the Thief

Friends, Old & New

Thebrilliant,pale-barkedpalaceof A’aravos Paravale emerged once more through the evergreen boughs. The spires glinted within the vast Faerie circle, awash in speckled golden light.

The Palace was a welcome beacon of rest, and Cypress couldn’t wait to be behind its walls once again, breathing in the air of the forest. She needed time to herself—to think, to process what had happened just hours ago.

Cypress could have sworn the return to the Palace was much faster than the trip to the tombs of the Winged Hounds. Perhapsit was the shifting nature of the Wylds, or maybe her guide took a new route? Cypress couldn’t say.

Before reaching the castle, Cypress needed to stretch her stiff limbs, or she might trip and fall flat on her face in front of Torren’s entire court.

If she stopped moving, her limbs would lock up, making it impossible to walk. So Cypress kept Seren moving at a steady pace, barely slowing as she swung her leg over the pommel and dropped down from the saddle.

Cypress nearly fell but caught herself, stumbling on her first stride. Her legs ached fiercely after the past few days.

“Have you ever seen it?” Cypress asked as Torren dismounted and walked beside her. His horses followed placidly in single file, heads bobbing above their withers.

“Seen what, exactly, Lass?”

“Eobbaara,” Cypress said, and hoped that she didn’t butcher the pronunciation of her mother’s home.The Soul Reachsounded haunted. As if sorrow echoed between the trees there.

Did Cypress believe everything she’d been told by Havanj? Torren couldn’t lie to her, but that didn’t mean the person he brought Cypress to couldn’t.

Still, the uncanny accuracy of two cards was undeniable: Cypress had been stabbed in the back and narrowly escaped danger.

The other card, though?Bullshit.

“I have. It’s a beautiful place.”

“Grand like A’aravos Paravale?” Cypress tilted her head. “Or more like Jinemelle?”

“You’ll have to see for yourself,Duchess," Torren smirked.

She rolled her eyes, grateful to leave her horse at the stables, knowing Seren would be well taken care of.

When they were inside the walls of A’aravos Paravale, her leaves shimmered, letting through even more golden light. It was as if the palace welcomed them home.

“Will I see ye again tonight, Lass, or are you going to hide away and wallow?”

Cypress wanted to throw a punch at his stupid, smug face—maybe even put another scar across his nose.

Instead, she said, “I thought we were making plans.”

“Always better made after a full stomach and a night's rest, Lass.”

Damn him, he was right.

Rather than admit as much, Cypress drawled, “Does it have to be withyou?”

"Don’t break my heart, Duchess. Not in my own home," Torren declared, theatrically flinging his arm over her shoulder and placing one hand to his chest.

Cypress hadn’t braided her hair back after the battle, so the weight of Torren’s arm across her shoulder pulled painfully at her scalp.

“Can you not?” she muttered, tugging her hair.

Rather than removing his arm, Torren eased the weight on her shoulders, then helped Cypress by gently lifting her hair free from beneath his arm and carefully draping it over so it no longer pulled at her scalp.

“Better?” Torren asked. That familiar, rakish grin was stretched across his lips while he led Cypress through the halls and up the stairs.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Cypress shot back.