Deathless (Editing)

Chapter 33: Where Wolves Fear to Prey

The next morning, I dressed in solemn silence. I wore the simple brown gown from the first inn we lodged at. Strapped to my hip was my short sword. Satisfied that it was now or never, I left the bedroom and marched myself down the staircase to the manor's vestibule, where Tolly waited.

He stood proudly, donning his lieutenant's uniform. His sword was on his hip, and he carried a bow on his back. When he heard my slippered foot rebound off the last step, he turned to me. His eyes were clear, his expression grave.

Hearing the sounds of a door clicking open above us, I pressed closer to him. It was Meir, I feared. And, hoping to capitalize on the man's unwelcomed intrusion, I pressed close to Tolly. "Kiss me," I said, voice soft and gentle.

Tolly's brows furrowed at the request, but he did not challenge it. Instead, he bent down, took my face in his hands, and he kissed me so gently that I felt my heart spasm inside my chest.

"I told you a kiss from me would break your heart," he said, wiping the tear from my eye with the joint of his thumb.

"I hate you, Sir Bartholomew Netherfield."

"I hate you, too, Riverly of the Silts." Pulling away, Tolly smirked at me.

"Gone so soon?" came a voice that unleashed a wave of dread.

Meir, just as I had suspected.

He stood at the banister of the second floor, looking down at us. He was dressed in his house clothes, and he wore a wry grin. I could tell he wanted to ask where we were going, but he stopped himself.

"Back to the Lowlands," Tolly lied.

Meir leaned against the railing. "Safe travels, Brother." The hollow tin of his voice belied his skepticism. Briefly, I wondered if he knew where we were going.

"We will need to avoid the estate on our return," Tolly said once we were outside the manor.

Narrowing in on the 'we' part of Tolly's statement and feeling some measure of relief that maybe he would trust me, I barely noticed that our horses were already waiting for us.

"Bartholomew," the steward drawled, gesturing for one of the stable boys to bring forward the Lord High Commander's warhorse.

Tolly helped me into the saddle before mounting his palfry.

"Safe travels, Bartholomew and Bartholomew's ward," the steward called after us winkingly, once our horses started walking around the semi-circle of the dirt road in front of the house.

When we were deep in the darkest part of the woods that edged along the border of the Netherfield estate, I drew my horse close to Tolly's. "What do you know of Ammit?" I asked, keeping my voice quiet, only a hair above a whisper.

Tolly looked askance at me, as if I was slightly daft. "Did they not teach you anything in the Silts?"

I flashed him a toothy grin. "I really wasn't much interested in the Temple's teachings." Or interested in anything to do with the Gods or Monsters. "But, I figured that since you wanted to be a priest," my voice trailed off when my gaze found his.

He heaved a heavy breath and shook his head at me. "How rich," he murmured, "The God of Life couldn't be bothered with the teachings."

I shrugged uncomfortably at his judgment. "The tomes are long and boring."

"Ammit," Tolly began, voice hard, "is one of the Great Monsters—"

"Yes, yes," I muttered under my breath, and batted my hand back and forth to urge him to hurry on through this part, "She has the head of a crocodile, the chest of a lion, and the hind quarters of a hippopotamus, and she devours the souls of the impure."