“We’ll fix this somehow,” he promised, burying his face in her hair.
Dareena sighed inwardly as he slipped off to sleep. Her frustration melted away, replaced by tenderness, as he snuggled in a little deeper with her. Gods, she loved him so much, and she was overcome with gratitude that he was here to comfort her now, even though she had spurned him and insulted him so grievously earlier. She might not be able to reciprocate, but she was grateful to lie with him like this.
Unfortunately, she did not have much time to enjoy being reunited with her beloved. The lock on the bedroom door clicked and the door swung wide open. A wave of hatred swept through Dareena—she knew Soldian was there, hidden beneath that wretched invisibility cloak of hers. The warlock spy didn’t speak this time—she merely exerted her will on Dareena, forcing her to leave the bed and return to the chambers Soldian had assigned to her.
The guards who had been posted outside her door seemed a little surprised to see her without Alistair, but they said nothing as she moved past them, Soldian on her heels. Dareena didn’t bother to fight as Soldian ordered her back to bed, and even when the woman joined her again, she wasn’t nearly as angry. She had gotten to spend some alone time with Alistair, and even better, Soldian had not forced her to stab him in his sleep. For now, Dareena would have to consider that a win. And hope Alistair came through on his promise to free her from this terrible spell.
31
“When do you expect her to arrive?” Drystan demanded as Alistair debriefed him on his visit with Rofana. “Are you sure it was wise to leave her in town with only a single acolyte for protection?”
“I think you should worry less about the oracle’s protection, and worry more about our mate,” Alistair said with a frown. “I know that you are having trouble seeing past your anger, but Dareena is in grave danger. Who knows what the evil controlling her might have her do?”
“You mean aside from making her kill one of her ladies-in-waiting?” Drystan scoffed. The letter sitting on his desk was one he’d begun to pen to her family. He couldn’t imagine how devastated they would be once they learned what had befallen their daughter. Drystan had lied about the circumstances, saying that she was killed defending the Dragon’s Gift from an assassin, but he knew the truth. He’d seen Dareena crouching over Rantissa’s dead body, the murder weapon clutched in her hand.
Even knowing his mate was not in her right mind couldn’t excuse what she had done. His father, too, had been stricken by madness, yet that did not absolve him of his actions, nor comfort those families who had suffered at his hands.
“You know Dareena would have never done such a thing,” Alistair reminded him gently. “I took her to her old room and tried to speak to her last night. She was completely catatonic, which makes me think that whoever was controlling her very likely wasn’t paying attention at the time. She responded when I touched her, Drystan. She’s still in there somewhere, and she wants us. We just need to figure out how to free her.”
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation before Drystan could properly process what Alistair had just told him. “Come in,” he said irritably.
“Apologies for the interruption, my princes,” the steward said, entering the room, “but there are a trio of women here to see Dareena.”
Drystan and Alistair exchanged startled glances. “Have you informed the Dragon’s Gift that she has visitors?” Drystan asked.
“No,” the steward said. “You ordered me to deliver all of Lady Dareena’s correspondence to you, given her strange behavior recently, and I thought that edict might apply to visitors, too.”
“Thank the gods,” Alistair said. He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes bright with interest. “Who are the visitors?”
“Cyra Lannen, Tildy Learman, and Gilma Halfast,” the steward said. “All hailing from Hallowdale.”
“Cyra,” Drystan repeated. “I believe she was one of the Chosen, was she not?”
“Yes, and the other two are Dareena’s friends,” Alistair said eagerly. “Dareena said she wrote to Cyra asking her to come and serve as a lady-in-waiting. I’m not sure why she brought the other two—perhaps they merely want to visit her.”
Drystan ordered the three women to be brought into his office. They entered and curtsied deeply as the steward introduced the three. Cyra was a willowy redhead, fair of face and dressed in a velvet blue gown, while Tildy was shorter, her face framed by blonde curls, and her rounder, curvier figure hidden by a simple muslin dress. The third woman, Gilma, was old and stooped, with gray hair. She was also blind, Drystan noted with some sympathy.
“Welcome to Dragon’s Keep,” Drystan said once the introductions were made and they were seated. “What can I do for you?”
“I am responding to a letter Dareena sent, offering me a position as her lady-in-waiting,” Cyra said. She handed over the letter, which was indeed written in Dareena’s own hand. “I have had several suitors since returning home to Hallowdale, but none that I particularly fancy, so I have decided to accept the position if it is still available.”
“It is,” Drystan confirmed. “Dareena will be delighted by this news. And although I am sure she will be very happy to see the two of you,” he said, turning to Tildy and Gilma, “I must confess I am a bit confused as to your presence.”
“We came along because we are worried about Dareena,” Tildy said. “When she told us that Lyria Hallowdale had been chosen as one of her ladies-in-waiting, we were almost certain that she had been planted there by an enemy.”
“That woman has always had it out for Dareena,” Gilma said in a quavering voice. “I wouldn’t be surprised at all if she was planning on murdering her as vengeance for taking her spot.”
“Where is Dareena?” Cyra asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I am very pleased to finally meet you face to face, my princes, but I expected to be meeting with her, not just you.”
“Dareena has been confined to her quarters,” Drystan said. “She murdered Rantissa, one of her ladies-in-waiting, yesterday.”
The women gasped, near-identical expressions of horror and disbelief on their faces.
“That’s impossible,” Tildy protested hotly. “Dareena would never take another person’s life.”
“She might in self-defense,” Cyra said thoughtfully. “Was there any evidence that Rantissa was trying to harm her?”
“No,” Drystan said, “and Dareena herself said she did it because the woman was supposedly stealing something from her.” He shook his head, exasperated. “It is impossible to separate the truth from the fiction at this point, but we do know for certain that a woman is dead.”