“They say she was like a mother to Brandon after his own mother died in childbirth,” Rafe went on. “No one has seen the old earl in over a decade, but we presume he is alive. Brandon is a viscount, but everyone knows he’s the real earl, except in name.”
“How awful.” I clutched the saddle as the horse ambled uphill toward the eerie stone castle. “Why? Why did she do it?” I couldn’t shake the image of a young girl flinging herself from the top of the tower. I looked up. It was so high that parts of the castle were still shrouded in mist and cloud.
“Riora was many years older than Brandon, the earl’s daughter from his first wife,” said Rafe, trying to keep his horse in check as we navigated the narrow road, which fell into a steep drop. “The story goes she was in love with a man who married another. On the day of their wedding she ended her life.”
Tears welled in my eyes for the grief the poor girl must have felt; enough for her to end her own life over a lost love. I hoped I would never have to experience that sort of despair in my lifetime.
“So, who was the man?” I asked Rafe, still wondering what kind of person caused the destruction of a whole family without a backward glance.
Rafe shrugged. “I don’t know. I was too young at the time. And Brandon never speaks about it.” He rode forward as I held on tight. Kalen had to fall behind, as there was not much room to maneuver the horses.
“Stick to the left,” Rafe called out to Kalen as the small path leading to the castle became narrower. Walls of jagged rock created a narrow pass we had to navigate before we came to the castle walls. “Follow me.”
We rode through the massive gates and into the enormous outer courtyard of Briarwood Castle, where towering stone walls enclosed us in their shadows. Fur-clad guards walked the battlements, vigilant of anyone or anything approaching the mountain fortress. Gray towers speared the night sky, and the moon finally decided to peek out at us from behind low-hanging clouds, lighting up the castle in its ghostly glow.
Grooms ran up to take their master’s horse as Brandon Delacourt jumped off his steed and strode up the wide steps to the great wooden door of the castle. He stopped for a moment to address his servants. “See that the rooms in the east wing are made ready for my guests.” He pushed back the hood of his fur-lined cloak. “I will see them shortly in the library.”
“And the prisoner, milord?” said one guard.
Brandon turned his cold gaze on the guard. “I think you are acquainted with the lodgings for prisoners, soldier.” His words were clipped. “Put Mr. Gold in the dungeons. I will deal with him later.”
The frost of his orders hung in the air as the guards, servants, and grooms scurried off to do Lord Delacourt’s bidding.
Rafe gave me his hand, but this time I refused to let anyone help me down. I could get on and off a horse on my own. It was time I became more independent. Now that I was wearing my traveling clothes all the time—thick woolen leggings, a warm tunic, and high boots—I remembered how much more comfortable pants were, instead of running around the countryside in flowing dresses, which were extremely impractical for what I needed to do.
My boots slipped on the frosty cobblestones as I stepped closer to speak privately with Rafe. “What are they going to do to Marcus?”
“I will talk to Brandon. I’m sure they have the wrong person. I know Marcus, and he is not a killer.”
A guard approached and asked us to follow him.
“It’s become too cold,” said Kalen, rubbing his hands together and hopping about. “Come on, you two, for once we will have some real food and a warm room to sleep in. Questing is not my favorite way to pass time—all you ever end up with is a very long and tedious journey.”
Rafe shook his head and I laughed at Kalen as we followed the guard up the wide stone steps and into Briarwood Castle.
Blending perfectly with the rock face, the stone castle was unfriendly and gloomy, its different parts connected by a maze of corridors spilling out from a big entrance hall. The guard lit a wooden torch and led us to a very long flight of steps. This castle was going to be even more difficult to get around than Silverthorne Castle, which, although larger, had more open spaces, big windows, and light, airy corridors. Here everything looked the same: dull, gray, and dark.
The guard led us to the library where Lord Delacourt was to meet us. A fire had already been lit, warming the vast space. Leatherbound tomes lined the shelves, the higher ones collecting dust, looking as though they hadn’t been read in a long time. Normally a library would have me very excited, but tonight my eyes skimmed over the books, more concerned with thoughts of why Delacourt had brought us here and whether Marcus was innocent.
I had gradually become suspicious of everyone. These past few months in Avalonia had changed me, and I finally realized how naïve I had been when I first came here—trusting everyone with my secrets and always looking for the good in people. But that had stopped, and I saw enemies everywhere. Though I knew it was better to be suspicious than to get
