Slight and Shadow (Fate's Forsaken: Book Two) Read Free

sat down at the desk, running her hand across its polished top. She traced the ink spatters and the little scrapes left behind by Garron’s dagger — from the times when he’d opened a letter too zealously. She seemed to be thinking very intensely about something, and Horatio had begun to wonder if his next breath might be his last.
    He was quite shocked when she suddenly burst into tears.
    The sobs shook her shoulders. D’Mere clutched a hand over her face; the skin went white where her fingernails dug in. Her breath came out thickly and in sputters — like a man choking on his own blood.
    Horatio didn’t know what to do. He glanced at the forest girl, who narrowed her eyes dangerously at him. So he kept his stare trained on the rug while the Countess collected herself.
    It took her a moment to stop crying. But by the time she spoke again, all trace of sorrow was gone from her voice. “He died in battle,” D’Mere said matter-of-factly. Then she smirked. “I always thought it would be the tarts that finally did him in.”
    Horatio returned her look with a cautious smile. “He was fond of a good pastry, My Countess. Especially the apple ones.”
    “Yes, with the sugar glaze on top.” D’Mere’s smile vanished as quickly as it’d come. “There are monsters roaming the Valley, you say? Beasts more wolf than man?”
    Horatio nodded.
    “Any idea where they might have come from?”
    She was watching him, her eyes searching through the stubble and over every red blotch on his cheeks. But Horatio was no fool. He knew better than to tell the Countess that the wolves bore the mark of Midlan on their collars. To accuse the King of murder would earn him nothing but a trip to the hangman’s noose.
    He cleared his throat and said carefully: “None, Countess.”
    She watched him a moment more, her face completely smooth. Then she stood. “I just came to tell Gar … well, I’ve finally secured the purchase of Randall’s bridge. Once my men have it widened, it should cut a considerable few hours from your journey.”
    Horatio was surprised. “ Randall’s bridge? I didn’t think he’d ever sell it.”
    D’Mere smirked. “I didn’t buy it from Randall — I bought it from his widow.”
    “I see.” Horatio bowed as she swept by, but mostly it was to hide the worry on his face. “Much appreciated, My Countess. I’ll be sure to tell the men.”
    “Very good.”
    As she turned to leave, Horatio glanced out the window at the falling sun. “It’ll be dark in another hour or so. Will you not break your journey here for the night, My Countess?”
    D’Mere tugged her gloves back on, glaring at her hands. “No — thank you. I’m impatient to get back to my journey. I’m afraid there’s much to do.”
    Horatio stood uncomfortably as she smoothed the wrinkles out of her skirt. A heavy silence hung between them. It was the same air that might’ve hung between two thieves on the morning after a heist — now that they were forced to walk the streets in the daylight, and step over the shattered glass they’d left behind.
    Horatio wondered if he ought to say something … but in the end, he figured it was probably best to leave the buried things be.
    He made to follow her to the door when the forest girl cut swiftly in front of him, shooting a warning look over her shoulder. Then D’Mere stopped abruptly in the doorway — and she had to come up on her tiptoes to keep from colliding with her back.
    “What’s become of the girl?” D’Mere said without turning.
    Horatio tried to keep things simple. “I sent Aerilyn on a journey with some friends to the High Seas, My Countess. She’s alive and well — and also quite taken with adventuring.”
    D’Mere spun, her eyebrows raised. “Oh? And which friends are these? Not that horrible fiddler, I hope.”
    “Eh, he’s among them. But the whole lot’s being watched over by a couple of fighters from the mountains.”
    Her brows climbed higher. “The Unforgivable