The Deceiver's Heart (The Traitor's Game 2)

“No last name?”

She considered that. “No.”

She offered me her hand. I brought it to my lips and kissed it, watching her the entire time. Afterward, I didn’t release her hand, and she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she was watching me intently, as if trying to burrow into my thoughts, and I was more than willing to let her. She asked, “Are you trying to repeat an old memory with me, hoping it will spark something?”

I took another step toward her. “I’m trying to make a new memory with you. And yes, I definitely hope it will spark something.”

I watched the smile dance in her eyes while she bit her lip and considered my unspoken suggestion. I pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, then let my hand linger there. But the instant my fingers began to curl around her neck, that smile turned to a sort of worry, a raising of a shield around herself exactly as the old Kestra would have done. At least that much about her was consistent.

She stepped back and brushed at her skirts, an obvious distraction since they weren’t dirty. “Tillie will be worried about us. We should bring the water.”

Reluctantly, I returned to filling the buckets. Then Kestra insisted on taking one so that I could hold her hand as we climbed the hill. In the end, she climbed ahead of me anyway, so fast that I wondered if she might run once we reached flat ground. I could’ve kicked myself for making her nervous. I’d ruined a moment I might not get back again.

Tillie had the bread in the oven when we returned, and she followed us outside to gather some vegetables from her garden for supper.

“No sign of Gabe?” I asked her.

“Nothing yet. Let’s hope that means his hunt is successful.” Tillie smiled as she spoke, but that was only for Kestra’s sake. I knew she was as worried about Gabe as I was.

Kestra tilted her head while listening to us, and I wondered if she suspected the real reason Gabe was out there. If she did, she remained quiet, and simply continued gardening.

I worked beside them for nearly an hour before we went in to finish preparing supper. When it was ready, Tillie sat on one side of the table, and Kestra and I were seated beside each other.

“My husband, rest his sweet heart, was always at my side, just as you two now sit.” Tillie’s smile faded. “He died, many years ago, a soldier in the War of Devastation.”

“I’m very sorry,” Kestra said. “Whose side—”

“Not the Dallisors,” I said.

“Oh … of course.”

Tillie handed Kestra the bread, still warm from the oven. “There are many of us who remember Antora as it was, before the war. This was never a country that enjoyed a long peace. Either the Dallisors were fighting the Halderians, or the Halderians were fighting the Dallisors. My family is neither, so we managed to stay out of it, until Lord Endrick united with the Dallisors. Then we knew it was time to fight. And we will continue fighting against him until his reign has ended.”

Kestra lowered her eyes but said nothing.

It should have been a clue for Tillie, but she continued, “What about you, my dear?”

Her head shot up, a fire in her eyes and a ring of alarm in her voice. “Don’t call me that … ‘my dear.’”

Tillie shrank back. “Oh, I’m sorry, I …”

I noticed a trembling of Kestra’s hands. “Kes?”

Confusion darkened her expression when she looked at me, as if her mind had wandered elsewhere. She saw my concern and took a slow breath. When she spoke again, her tone had softened. “It’s all right. You didn’t mean anything by it. I think …” Her fingers brushed against her necklace, then she hastily lowered them. “What was your question?”

Tillie cleared her throat and spoke more cautiously. “I wanted to ask if you intend to fight against Lord Endrick. Considering what you did to Simon, you’d be a valuable asset to the rebellion.”

If Kestra had been upset before, this was worse. Tillie had meant well, but Kestra’s eyes were darting around in every direction. I figured if a gaping hole opened in the floor, she’d gladly dive through it to escape.

I quickly changed the subject. “After supper, maybe Kestra can help you clean up and I’ll chop wood for a fire.”

“That would be lovely.” Tillie smiled at Kestra. “You are such a beautiful girl. I wish I could look into your eyes and see happiness there.”

“That’s a nice thought, but—”

Now Tillie nodded at me. “You may not realize this, but Simon is a gifted artist. He’s made drawings of you before. In those drawings, your eyes are alive and filled with passion and joy. Perhaps he could show them to you someday.”