A Beast Descends
Over the past few days, Thalia had kept a watchful eye on the woman who now slipped silently between the tents. With eyes narrowed to slits, she followed at a careful distance.
The woman moved with the practiced ease of someone who knew how to avoid drawing attention. Her steps were so quiet and agile that Thalia would have lost her in an instant if she had not already grown accustomed to the distinctive gait of those trained by House Taren.
In the blink of an eye, the woman crossed the camp and vanished among the long line of supply wagons. Thalia waited a moment, then crept forward and peered into the narrow gap between two massive carts. The woman had already disappeared.
Thalia glanced around in confusion before squeezing between the wagons. Something small struck her foot.
What is this…?
She bent down and found a small glass vial lying beneath a wheel. Frowning, she picked it up for a closer look. A few drops of slick liquid clung to the mouth of the bottle and smeared across her fingers.
Startled, Thalia flung the vial away. She brought her hand to her face and sniffed. A sharp floral scent mixed with the foul, metallic reek of animal fluids assaulted her nose. The stench was so nauseating that her head spun and bile rose in her throat. Grimacing, she wiped the strange liquid on her handkerchief, but the odor clung stubbornly to her skin.
This is the worst.
She tossed the soiled handkerchief to the ground and straightened—only to see a dark shadow fall over her head.
Thalia jerked her gaze upward, a scream tearing from her throat as she stumbled backward onto the dirt. Barcas stood above her, his expression cold and unreadable.
“What are you doing in a place like this?”
Thalia stared up at him blankly before scrambling to her feet. How long has he been watching me? Her heart pounded even though she had done nothing yet. She forced her voice into something sharp and haughty, trying to sound composed.
“You scared me half to death! Creeping around like a rat—what are you doing?”
“You still have not answered my question.”
Barcas ignored her barb, uncrossing his arms and taking a single step closer. Thalia backed up a pace, then lifted her chin defiantly.
“Why should I answer you? What I do and where I go is none of your concern!”
She tried to slip past him, but he moved with long strides and blocked her path. Trapped between the wagon and his tall frame, Thalia looked up at him with uneasy eyes.
“Why—why are you doing this?”
“I cannot risk leaving you alone only to witness another unsightly scene.”
His sharp tone made her shoulders hunch. Barcas studied her for a moment, then exhaled softly and jerked his chin forward.
“I will escort you back to your quarters. Lead the way.”
“I—I don’t need an escort. I can go by myself—”
“Is there any reason I should not escort you?”
Thalia’s fingers closed unconsciously around the hilt of the knife hidden in her pocket. The gesture was foolish; it all but announced that she had something to hide. When she saw his eyes narrow, she shoved both hands against his chest with all her strength.
“It’s none of your business! Move!”
She pushed with everything she had, yet he did not budge. Slender though he appeared, his body was as unyielding as iron. Thalia swallowed her fear and lifted her chin with feigned confidence.
“Did you not hear me? Move aside.”
Barcas regarded her in silence, then slowly stepped back. Thalia seized the opening and darted into the narrow space between him and the wagon, hurrying to escape. A strong hand caught her arm and spun her around.
Before she could react, his fingers slipped into her gown pocket and withdrew the finely honed knife. Thalia’s face went deathly pale as she looked up at him. Barcas ran an elegant thumb along the blade, then met her gaze with an expression devoid of emotion.
She could have claimed it was merely for self-defense. But under that piercing stare that seemed to strip her thoughts bare, reason shattered. Thalia lunged at him like a child whose only toy had been stolen.
“Give it back!”
He raised the hand holding the knife high above his head. Thalia rose onto her toes, clutching at his uniform and stretching desperately for the weapon.
“Return it! Give it back to me!”
Barcas watched her frantic struggle with a hardened expression, then tossed the knife aside. Thalia scrambled to retrieve it, but before her fingers could close around the hilt, a golden sabaton kicked it far beneath the wagon.
She stared blankly as the blade slid out of reach, already preparing to crawl after it. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and hauled her upright before she could touch the ground.
Thalia glared at him with open hatred, but Barcas’s face was equally grim.
“I will not ask what you intended to do with it.”
He leaned in until his face was inches from hers, each word bitten off like shards of ice. “From now on, you will have constant surveillance. Discard every foolish, reckless scheme in that small head of yours.”
Who are you to speak to me like that?
Who are you to take what is mine?
Who are you—
—to become another woman’s husband while planning to leave me forever?
—to make me want to kill that woman, then stop me from doing anything at all?
The jumbled accusations lodged in her throat. She wanted to spit curses, but if she opened her mouth she feared she would only wail like a ten-year-old girl. She clenched her jaw instead.
Barcas studied her in silence, then straightened and gestured for her to walk ahead. Thalia shot him a venomous glare before striding quickly between the wagons. His promise of constant surveillance had not been idle; he followed like a shadow at her heels.
The once-familiar sound of his footsteps now filled her with revulsion. He had never been there when she needed him, yet the moment she made her most desperate decision, he appeared to interfere.
To protect Aila…
Or perhaps to protect Gareth. He could never fully understand why she carried a knife. He had never cared about the half-brother who beat her whenever the chance arose, nor could he grasp why she ground her teeth at the half-sister who endured everything in silence.
Thalia turned her head toward the camp, where darkness was beginning to settle. Aila was surely enjoying herself by now, surrounded by people who loved her, savoring the happy future that awaited her.
The thought of that flushed, contented face made Thalia’s already churning stomach twist further. Detestable woman. She possessed everything, yet still wore that mournful expression whenever she looked at Thalia. Every pitiful look, every tragic air—it was all unbearable.
I really do want to kill her.
She was still gnawing at her cracked lips when Barcas suddenly seized her and shoved her roughly backward. Thalia looked up at him in alarm. For a terrifying instant she thought he had read her mind, but his gaze was fixed elsewhere.
Following his serious stare skyward, she drew a sharp breath. Something enormous was plummeting toward them at terrifying speed. Before she could even identify it, a thunderous crash shook the ground and a cloud of dust billowed upward.
“It’s a demonic beast!”
A man’s shout was the signal. Screams erupted from every corner of the camp.