Defiant by Kris Kennedy Page B

her knee bumped his, then tilted his head in Ry’s direction without looking away.
    “Go and check the hill, Ry, will you? The one Eva does not want us on.”
    S HE felt the kick of panic like little elfin boots, striking at her rib cage. She tried to breathe normally.
    It was only a small hut, she thought. Ten years was a greatlong time in a wet wood. Perhaps it had fallen to wreck and ruin. Perhaps it had rotted away. Perhaps all signs of its existence—and theirs—were decayed clear away.
    Or perhaps not.
    She’d made it their own, this abandoned little hut. Painted it, for goodness’ sake, so it would be a modicum less frightening for a five-year-old boy who’d so recently witnessed terrible horrors. Laid rushes, embellished the walls with drawings like the castle rooms he’d been accustomed to, with fine red lines so they mimicked masonry bricks, flowers painted within. Painted the outer door as well, to resemble curving vines.
    Just like her fingernails. Would Jamie recall such a detail?
    Jamie would recall how many outbreaths she’d taken, should it serve his purpose.
    They sat side by side and listened to Ruggart Ry bash through the underbrush. Eva pretended to watch. He was breaking through the brush, directly toward the old abandoned hut she’d used as a hiding spot with Roger ten years ago.
    After a moment, Ry called out, “There’s something here, Jamie. Just beyond the crest of the hill. A small hut.”
    Her heart sank as if small iron weights were attached to it, dragging it into a pit.
    Jamie turned to her, his gaze, at once clear and impenetrable, aimed like an archer’s arrow. “Fascinating.” He did not sound fascinated. He sounded suspicious.
    She nodded, not at all suspiciously. She filled it with all the nonchalance and innocence one could put into a nod. She offered a smile made of equal ingredients. One could build a tower of sweets with this nod and smile.
    And then he did a terrible thing. He smiled. “I am going to do you a boon favor, Eva.”
    Her jaw dropped slowly, but her heart went tumbling much faster, deep into the pits of her suddenly flipping belly, whichwas sending the most insensible chills up, like rising air. She’d been stormed by a cyclone inside.
    “Wha—What do you mean?”
    Her stuttered, shocked reply faded into silence as Jamie kicked his foot over his horse’s rump and started toward her, making everything that had been rising up inside start going entirely downward.
    Off to the side, Ry stood looking . . . was that sad? Disappointed?
    Worried?
    Jamie clasped her by the hips and slid her unceremoniously off the horse. She hit the ground, staggering a moment as her legs adjusted to being back on solid earth. “What favor?”
    Jamie gave another of his alarming smiles. “We’re going to bring in your boy.”

Sixteen
     
    S he hit the ground hard. Jamie closed his hands around her arms, pulling her toward him. He was not rough, but neither was he gentle. The kingdom was tottering on the brink of civil war, and she might know something that could open a door or slam it shut, to the ruination of a kingdom.
    Her body ricocheted backward in swift response. He let her go. For now. She backed up and her boot trod into the feathery ferns bordering the road. Jamie tracked her slowly. No need to have her trip and bash her brains in. Yet.
    “Eva,” he said calmly. “I am a patient man. I have waited many years for many things, and I shall wait through many more. I have served kings and counts and dowager queens, and ne’er counted a minute wasted. But I am growing impatient with you.”
    An ambient reddish glow still lit the tops of the trees, but she was backing up into darkness, where thick, ancient tree limbs hung heavy with moss and cobwebs, and wild animals lived long lives, never laying eyes on a human.
    “In this way, you and I are alike,” she said, and it was almost a gasp. She took another step back and bumped into a tree. She stopped, her spine to the