Page 87 of In Darkness Forged
“You can’t exactly follow me right through the middle of the village and expect no one will notice,” Aislin pointed out.
“It is night,” Tal returned dryly. “And humans do not seek out the dark. Do you truly think I cannot remain unseen if I wish?”
He wasn’t going to budge. And even if Aislin worried for his safety, she couldn’t help but feel a little warmer knowing that he would be out there watching over her, whether she could see him or not.
“Thank you, Tal.” She rose on tiptoe and pressed a quick, shy kiss to his cheek, hoping her blushes weren’t wildly evident in the dark. “It should be simple enough to track me through the village. Once I reach the manor, you can wait outside until it’s over. I only need to hand over the stone, and then we can go and meet my family.”
* * *
Despite her exhaustion, Aislin’s steps were quick as she traversed the remaining distance to Brightvale, entering the village just as the last light died. She wasn’t exactly sure what day it was or how long she’d been gone. It had been too long since she’d slept or eaten properly, and her body begged for rest.
But she was also riding a wave of urgency that insisted she could not stop until the matter of her debt was laid to rest. Not until she had returned the stone to Lord Dreichel and seen for herself that her mother and grandmother were well.
Her path led her past the trail to the hollow where Old Man Eben was probably taking his evening meal, then past the inn, where she could see lights and bustle and hear Brannic’s booming laughter through the open door. But she did not falter, or even cast a single glance up the rocky trail that led to her home. She did not pause to comb her hair or brush off her clothes or wonder whether the blood and filth would be welcome at the manor. She continued to climb the hill until she stood once more in the courtyard of the great house, bathed in the shadows from newly lit torches, wondering whether they would even allow her past the door.
If they did not, she would simply find a way through them. She could feel Tal’s presence out there in the darkness, watching over her and waiting to be reunited, and the thought gave her courage. After all that they’d survived, how could something so ridiculous as dirt stand in her way?
But when she finally reached the doors of the manor, the uniformed footman who guarded them looked down his nose at her, sweeping a glance over her tattered and bloody clothing before directing his gaze somewhere over her left shoulder.
“Lord Dreichel has no time for beggars,” he said stiffly. “He is, at present, entertaining guests. You may return when he is accepting petitions.”
Aislin could remember a time when she would have quailed at his dismissal. Meekly submitted to being turned away because she feared the consequences of defiance. But the woman she used to be had disappeared somewhere beneath the Darkspring, laid to rest in some unmarked grave.
The woman who had emerged cared nothing for petty snobbery. Her ribs ached, her limbs trembled with weariness, and every bruise was making itself felt. She had endured a lifetime’s worth of terror, grief, and uncertainty, and no one was going to stop her this close to the end of her quest.
Removing the pouch from around her neck, Aislin opened it, dropped the gently glowing moonstone into her scarred palm, and held it up before the footman’s astonished gaze.
“Do you still want to stop me?” she inquired.
“I… n-n-no!” He could not open the door fast enough.
She followed him through, and passed into the great hall, where it seemed Lord Dreichel and his dozen or so guests were mingling before a formal dinner. An ocean of candles illuminated the enormous room, some hanging from the beams overhead, some displayed in candelabras set near the windows. A handful of ladies in elaborate gowns and glittering jewelry hung on the arms of their impeccably dressed gentlemen escorts, and all of them turned to stare when Aislin entered the hall.
And then, like a glittering sea, they parted, leaving her a path straight to the man who had sent her to do the impossible. He had known she was likely to die, and had shrugged as if her life, and those of her mother and grandmother, meant nothing to him. Perhaps they did not. But this man no longer held those lives in his hands.
“What is this?” Lord Dreichel demanded, distaste arching his brows and pinching his mouth unpleasantly. “Who allowed this creature to enter my hall?”
“Thiscreature,” Aislin said coldly, “has a name. I am Aislin, daughter of Charys, and I have only done as you required of me. I have crossed the Dredwall. Spoken to the night elves of Revenfell. And I have restored your stone, just as you commanded.”
For the barest instant, Lord Dreichel’s face registered overwhelming shock. He had not recognized her, Aislin realized. In part, perhaps, because she could not possibly have been more filthy or bedraggled. But also because a part of him had never expected her to return.
“Where is it?” His tone was harsh and commanding, but a gleam of hungry anticipation lit his eyes. “I must have proof that you are not attempting to deceive me.”
How had she ever been intimidated by this pitiful, small-minded tyrant? Caught between anger and disgust, Aislin tossed his treasure across the room in a soaring arc, with all the flippancy she might have shown in throwing a common pebble.
Lord Dreichel’s face went white as he snatched it out of the air. For an instant, his glare was hot and poisonous, but then he was too busy gazing rapturously into the stone’s soft white glow.
“It is done,” he whispered, caressing it with reverent fingers. “My fortunes are restored, and the future rests secure.”
Someone burst through the crowd to appear at Aislin’s elbow, eyes wide, tunic slightly crooked, hair disheveled.
Sandric. He was not as handsome as she remembered. Or perhaps now she was better able to identify the bitterness and regret that lurked at the back of all those flirtatious glances. He looked at Aislin, then at his father, and as he surveyed Lord Dreichel’s gloating expression, his entire body seemed to sag with disappointment.
“You survived,” he murmured to Aislin. “I am glad.”
“As did you.” She offered him a polite nod. “Are my mother and grandmother well?”
“I kept my promise,” he said tightly. “They are well.”