Ita.

Isabel sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, pouring herself some water. She eyed the wilted daisy chain as she drank. Hope crept in every time she looked at those flowers. As she placed the cup down, she noticed fresh bruises on her wrists. Hodge had held her in an iron grip as he scolded her about leaving her quarters after dark. Endless ramblings about trust and how much she meant to him and how his life would be over if anything happened to her. He said all this while her wrists turned to powder in his hands.

The fact that he had found her alone with Blackmane had made it so much worse.

Rising, she grabbed the woollen blanket from the chair and drew it around her as she stepped into a pair of boots, not bothering to tie the laces. She exited her quarters and made her way outside. All was still and quiet now.

She climbed to the top of the wall, stepping onto it just as the sun reached the horizon, painting the castle in golden light and chasing away the shadows. She had a bird’s-eye view of the damage from up there and was surprised by how little there was. Blackmane had been right. Aside from some singeing of the lawn and gardens and soot covering the wall walk, everything was still standing. It had been too damp for any real harm to be done.

Her eyes went to the sky, wondering if Margery was close by and what she would have made of all the chaos.

‘I thought you would have learned to stay off the wall by now.’

Blackmane’s impatient tone had her looking over her shoulder. She took in his filthy face and the dark circles enclosing his eyes. ‘Have you not slept yet?’

He came to a stop several feet from her. ‘While the castle was under attack? No.’

She chose to ignore the sarcasm. ‘Was anyone injured?’

He shook his head. ‘It was a lot of running around putting fires out and shooting blindly in the dark.’

‘I do recall a little of that.’ She adjusted the blanket around her, and the sleeve of her dress slid up her wrist. Blackmane’s eyes narrowed on it, prompting her to tuck it beneath the blanket. But he continued to stare at the spot as though he could see through the wool.

‘What happened to your arm?’ he asked.

There was a short silence as she tried to come up with an answer that would not fill her with shame. ‘Margery.’

He lifted his gaze to hers. ‘Your pet bird left those marks?’

She nodded and looked away.

‘The aversion of your gaze, lack of words, and noncongruent gestures suggest you’re lying.’

She felt hot suddenly—seen. ‘Is that another defender trick?’ When he did not answer her, she said, ‘His Lordship can get a little… enthusiastic when communicating his point.’

‘Perhaps you mean aggressive.’

She bit down on her lip and went for a change of subject before things got even more uncomfortable. ‘When do you leave for your tour?’