The Heir of Red and White

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Greyson

I'm not sure what I expected to find, but Ana with her arms wrapped around the young duke was not it.

I supposed I should've expected this. The nobility had frivolous hearts, and Cameron, with his rustic charm and smooth, dark skin, could do more for Ana than I ever could.

But still, it hurt.

There was a moment, a split second in time, where I had allowed myself to believe that there was something between Aiyana and me. The Elites didn't believe in fate, but that was the only way I could describe our meeting. The odds of the princess arriving at the rock precisely when I had begun to remove my disguise, not reporting it to her father or the Queen's Champion, and then later revealing her own identity could not be mere coincidence. Our goals, our lives, and our duties seemed to constantly orbit each other, and while I had convinced myself of my irrationality before, the kiss had changed everything.

Or at least I thought it had. But seeing Ana with the young duke was like being splashed with frigid water in the middle of a northern blizzard. I felt cold, cracked, and fatigued. It had been stupid of me to assume I knew what she wanted. Or who she wanted. And I had broken my own heart by not adhering to my promise.

Ana had seen me hidden behind the tree, and still, she had said nothing. Done nothing. And if that weren't enough for me to convince myself to let her go, the sight of her tucked snuggly against the young duke was. It was time I left our sordid romance behind and focused again on why I had come to the manor. And what I could to make Leanne's death mean something.

After jogging back toward the stables, my sour mood sobered, and I slowed my pace to a steady walk. I had journeyed rather impulsively toward the arena, without even my wig or lenses to hide behind. Because of the soldiers occupying the villages, it had taken a week for me to find a way to leave, and in my haste, I had only been able to grab a fraying hood and a pair of soggy boots. I kept my features hidden and dipped my head low, but that would not be enough for me to walk through the manor halls without another noticing my colored eyes or hair.

Thankfully, the stables were home to one of the few servant passage exits, and while that did put me at risk of detection by another staff member, I doubted any of them would have the gal to report me to their superiors.

I treaded slowly along the wall of the stable cages. Sunset was approaching quickly, and soon, the stable hands would return to feed the horses and tend to the cleanliness of their pens. And although a few vermin men lingered inside, without any guards present to observe their work, they conversed quietly with one another, not paying any mind to what or who loitered outside.

I was sure that if I traveled quietly around the stables and then ran toward the manor entrance, ducking low so that I wasn't seen, I would make it to the passage undetected. My plan would've worked too if I had been the only one to think of it.

As soon as I approached the final corner of the stable wall, the sound of hurried footsteps caught my attention. Someone was coming behind me, and while their steps were soft, they were sure-footed and quick, meaning they originated from someone trained in stealth or combat. With no other choice, I ducked inside the back door of the stables and nestled myself between the wall, and a stack of hay.

The pens smelled heavily of must, oiled hair, and feces. The hay was rough and brittle as it brushed against my arms, and it didn't pass my notice that much of it had begun to brown and decay as winter rushed to greet the north. The vermin men who had remained behind the other stable hands had conjoined in a circle at the front of the stables, disregarding the task they had been ordered to do in favor of playing a game. I was surprised a bit by their carelessness, but ever since the murderer had begun killing Elites, the guards spent more of their time tending to the nobility than they did harassing the vermin staff. It was a shame, but many of the vermin workers had benefitted from the assassinations, and I couldn't blame them for basking in the small reprieve they were allotted.