He punctuated his last outburst with another kick, one that Darius saw coming and rolled into so that it glanced off his hip. It still stung, but a lot of the force was gone.
“You’ll see,” Samuel said quietly.
He spit into Darius’s face and stalked off.
Darius lay still for a moment, the spittle stinging his eyes. Finally, he climbed to his feet with a groan. He could go back and ask Willow to heal his bruises.
Instead, he resumed walking.
Chapter 75
It was like being back in Dunfield. The sullen expressions, the hooded leers, even the whispering. Only Celia never expected to find that here. Not in the Greenweald and certainly not in her own House.
She walked warily along the overgrown path, keeping her eyes moving, always on the lookout for trouble. A habit that she picked up in Dunfield. One she thought she could put behind her once she was home.
Whatever happened there had made its way here, and she wondered if it was everywhere now. The evil spread throughout the entire world and the end times come.
Even in its current state, simply being home made her miss her father more than she ever believed she could have. When she first washed up on the side of that pool, and found the Mar-trollid, all she could think of was that she missed Solomon and wanted to see him again. She was ashamed to admit that her father hardly crossed her mind.
Perhaps that was forgivable. Florian had always been there, and as far as Celia was concerned, he always would be. He was a fact of life as much as the air, the water and the sunshine. He was eternal.
Her feelings for Solomon were not. At one point she would have thought so, but now? Now he’d shown himself to be nothing special after all. He actually made problems worse by charging at them head-on, rather than being patient and seeing the lay of the land first. Ironic, since everyone said he was the finest scout House Towering Oaks had produced in many a generation.
If he was the finest, perhaps their reputation was ill-earned.
She made her way to the main tree, seeing the doors wide open. A few one-time guards took their ease on the steps, the remains of a meal and several empty bottles strewn about them. They were watching her approach with undisguised avarice.
“Well, who’s this then?” one of them drawled as she came close.
“I’m going inside,” Celia replied. “I’d prefer to not have any problems.”
“Ohhh…prefer, would you? Then by all means, allow us to move out of your way.”
None of them moved an inch. They stayed where they were, sprawled on the steps, blocking her way forward.
“Wait a minute,” another said, peering at her and picking the remains of his meal from his teeth. “I know you. Weren’t you Florian’s daughter? The one who decided to run off with that other guy?”
“I am Florian’s daughter, yes. And I am the rightful Head of this House! Now, either stand up, fix your uniforms and show some respect, or get out of my way!”
The anger coursing through her lent strength to her voice. For a moment, it looked like they were going to do as she commanded. There were shifts of posture and sidelong glances of uncertainty to each other.
Then, the first one who spoke slowly rose.
“Okay, my lady. We’ll do one better.” He sauntered down the steps toward her. “We’ll take you inside ourselves. Right to wherever you need to go. Then, once we have you inside, you can thank us. One at a time, or all together, it’s up to you.”
Everywhere, Celia thought. Everywhere this evil infects, men turn the same. A woman is helpless before them and they’ll take what they want from her.
The guard reached the bottom step and the others were nudging one another and laughing.
He was taller than her, and bigger as well.
“What’s it going to be?” His breath stank of sour wine and neglect. “Shall we go inside, or do you want to put on a show right here?”
That was as far as he got before Celia hit him. She lashed out, catching him in the front of the throat with her fingers folded under. The guard gagged and his hands went to his neck. Celia moved in, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him forward at the same time as her knee came up.
The gagging turned into a strangled gasp and the guard collapsed.
Celia ignored him and started up the steps.
She’d been afraid that the other two guards would come for her while she was busy with the first one, but they were too busy laughing and pointing at their fallen comrade.
The one on the right held up his hands in mock surrender.
“Peace,” he giggled. “That was all him. He was an ass. Besides, you’re not my type. Too skinny.”
He seemed to find that even funnier and collapsed into gales of laughter, rolling onto his side on the step. His companion laughed as well, scooting over and indicating that Celia was free to walk past.
She did, keeping an eye on the pair, waiting for one or both to make a move toward her. The laughing one kept at it, sounding like a drunk, while the other chuckled and gazed out over the compound.
Moments later, she was past them and into the tree.
The same signs of neglect that were outside were here as well. Dust collected on the tops of furniture and ornaments, scuff marks were evident on the polished wood floors, doors were left open and lamps left unlit. The gloomy atmosphere made it feel like an old house that had been abandoned for years.
Again, the similarities to
