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

I found the leaves in his vest and put one in his hands, which he broke to his desired length with his forefinger and thumb. “We’ll take them when we see the first signs of a Dominion camp. It’s late. I doubt we’re traveling far.”

I held the leaf in my fingers while we continued to ride, my finger mindlessly stroking the crisp edges. At least an hour passed, and the entire time, I mostly thought of Simon and wondered what he was doing now. I supposed he was tending to his mother’s body, perhaps digging a grave for her in the same yard where he had kept me from saving her.

Though I never could’ve saved her. Therein was the tragedy.

I dreaded what lay ahead for Gabe and me, but I figured it wasn’t half of what Simon must be going through right now.

Gabe repeated the plan to me when we first spotted the lights of the Dominion camp. I listened and nodded, and when he put the leaf in his mouth, I pretended to do the same. I waited until he had passed out and then tossed my leaf through the bars of the wagon.

I had told Simon that I could not fulfill my role as Infidante, but that had changed now.

Because I had a plan C. In which my first job was to convince them that Gabe was dead, then to distract them enough to give him time to get away after he woke up. And then to do whatever was necessary to get myself an audience with Lord Endrick. If he had taken my memories, then it was true he could destroy whatever was left of me. But he was also the only one who could return them. I didn’t have much to bargain with in order to make him cooperate, but if I was the Infidante, then at some point, I must have had the Olden Blade.

In exchange for my memories, I would offer him the Olden Blade. He would surely agree to that. Then, once he returned them, I would find the Olden Blade again and use it to kill him. I had no memory of using a weapon before, but I’d obviously done so, and I hoped my muscles would remember what my mind could not.

The odds of that were probably remote. Maybe there was no chance at all, but if I truly was the Infidante, I had to at least try my hand against Lord Endric

k, and perhaps save my life—and Antora—in the process.

At least, I hoped that would be true as the wagon began to slow. Orders and the announcement that I was with them were shouted out.

The most terrifying game of my life was about to begin.

In the earth softened by recent rains, it didn’t take nearly as long as I’d expected to dig the grave for Tillie. Back when Rutherhouse had been an inn, her guests had all called her Tillie, so I had too. It was hard to think of her now as my mother.

Most of my memories of her were from my youngest years, when she used to sing for me at night, and fill my day with exciting stories as I worked beside her and my younger sister on our small farm. When that wasn’t enough, the responsibility of providing for my family fell to me. I went to Woodcourt to work as a servant and still remembered the way she cried when I left. I’d felt mature then, but looking back, I was far too young. After Woodcourt, I was taken in by Gareth, who raised me until his death. I visited Tillie as often as I could, bringing money that I earned working for Gareth. I’d always loved her, but she hadn’t felt like a mother to me for years.

I’d just buried my mother.

As I worked, I recited to myself every cliché that might lessen the pain, but none of it helped. It didn’t matter that Tillie had offered up her life rather than sacrifice Kestra’s. It didn’t matter that Kestra had tried to break free in an effort to save her, or that I had refused to let her go. None of it mattered, because none of it outweighed the guilt I felt for having brought Kestra here in the first place.

How did they know?

My fingers clenched into fists. Maybe it was the same way the Halderians knew Kestra was in the Lonetree Camp.

When Trina had passed us on the trail, she had said she knew where I was going. I’d probably mentioned Rutherhouse before, in a time when I had no reason to mistrust her. But although it was easy to believe she might have contacted the Halderians, it was harder to believe she would betray us to the Dominion.

I was kneeling beside the grave when I heard horses approach. It was the middle of the night by now. Was it the Dominion, returning for me?

I swung the shovel over my shoulder, and by now, my sword was in its proper place at my side. If it was the Dominion, I intended to take down every last one of them.

My first peek around the front of the house was little help. I saw several horses, but a few riders held torches, which made it impossible to see their faces. Maybe that made it easier to attack.

I charged around to the front with the shovel ready to swing, but stopped when I heard Tenger shout, “Simon, no!”

I immediately lowered the shovel, and those with the torches lowered them too, illuminating their faces. Tenger was at the front of a dozen Coracks, with Basil at his side. Trina was on the other side of him, and the girl from Brill, Wynnow, whom I still didn’t know very well, beside her. Loelle was with them too, and the others were fighters whose faces I recognized, but whose names I didn’t know.

Basil leaned forward in his saddle. “Where’s Kestra?”

My eyes darted to Trina, hoping to see a reaction from her. “The Dominion took her—and Gabe.”

Trina did react, though it wasn’t what I’d expected. Her eyes registered what seemed like genuine alarm. Then again, maybe she hadn’t intended for Gabe to be caught in their snares too.

Tenger cursed. “We’ve been monitoring Dominion activity and we saw a prison wagon pass by five miles back.”

“They were in it.”

“Are you fit to ride?” Trina asked. “You don’t look well, Simon.”