She nodded slowly, but still looked fearful. “Why wouldn’t they come here to look for you, if it was your mother’s home?” she asked softly.
A shadow passed across one of the curtained windows, moving swiftly across the room. Braith stiffened slightly as he watched Ashby move through the house. His gate, and swift stride, proved what Braith had already suspected. Ashby was no longer too weak to be a threat. “Because Ashby is the reason I was blinded.”
Arianna inhaled sharply, her gaze slid slowly back to him, her eyes bright in the light of the moon. “Braith…”
He took hold of her hand, pulling her closer to him. Pulling her hair forward, he draped its thick waves around her neck, trying to mask the scent of her blood, though that would be impossible. The sweet smell was hard to miss. He wished that he had something to cover her with, but the summer months didn’t allow for much extra clothing. Though it appeared that Ashby had been feeding, Braith didn’t know how well, or the last time. Arianna was a fierce temptation that he wasn’t sure Ashby wouldn’t go after. And Braith did not want to have to kill him, at least not immediately.
“Come.”
She followed silently behind him, both of her hands clasped tightly around his, a tremor ran through her. He led her up a set of rickety steps, clenching his jaw as they creaked and swayed beneath them. He had not wanted to alert Ashby to their presence, but it was already too late for that. The stairs swayed beneath them as they stepped off them and onto a wobbly deck that he wasn’t entirely certain would hold up beneath their weights. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Ashby had set up booby traps. When Arianna tried to walk beside him, he pushed her gently back with a soft admonishment to walk only where he had. She frowned fiercely at him, but for once did not argue.
Braith wondered again where the guards were. He should have left Arianna in the woods, but even if he could not sense the guards, that didn’t mean they weren’t still out there. He couldn’t risk it; he couldn’t take that chance with her life. He held his arm out, keeping her behind him as he reached forward to try the knob. He was not surprised to find it locked.
He waited for a moment, trying to decide if he wanted to break in, or knock. He glanced back at Arianna, she was biting her bottom her lip nervously, her eyes wide with fear. He squeezed her hand for reassurance, but he could tell it did little to soothe her. In the end, he decided on knocking. There was something about this situation that he found strange and offsetting, for some reason he felt that knocking might be the bigger element of surprise here.
From inside he could hear the approaching sound of footsteps; a soft whistling pierced the air. Braith was jarred for a moment, thrown back to a time when they had all lived together in the palace. Ashby had always whistled, not a loud piercing whistle, but a soft rhythm that had drifted cheerfully through the halls. It had been lively and carefree, as upbeat and easygoing as the man that issued it. All of the women had loved Ashby; they had thrown themselves at his feet, enchanted by his good looks, and his charming demeanor.
Now that whistle drifted easily through the air, lazy and casual, not at all the sound that a prisoner fighting for their lives should be making. This whistle was happy, easy, and so unbelievably joyful that it set Braith’s teeth on edge. The two of them had once been good friends, more than brothers-in-law, but actually brothers. Then Ashby had betrayed them, Braith had been blinded, and their friendship had been forever severed. Ashby was supposed to have been punished for that betrayal, but it was more than obvious that he was no longer serving that punishment.
The door was flung open; Braith came face to face with the man who had once been his best friend, and was now one of his greatest enemies. The grin on Ashby’s handsome face froze, he stood motionless for a moment; his eyes were bright with merriment before reality began to sink in. He looked much as Braith remembered; he had not wasted away, did not appear starved, and in fact appeared to be slightly heavier than he had been in the palace.
Then, Ashby’s grin faded, disbelief, shock, and finally panic flitted swiftly over his face. Braith was moving forward even as Ashby was trying to slam the door shut. The hard wood slammed off of his hand, bouncing back against the wall with a loud crash that shattered wood and caused Arianna to gasp loudly. Ashby was scrambling backward, trying to escape when Braith seized him by the throat, lifted him up, and slammed him off of the wall with enough force to shatter the plaster.
He hadn’t seen Ashby in a hundred years, but the knife of betrayal that stabbed through him was just as fresh and sharp as it had been back then. This had been a bad idea. Braith had come here knowing that no one would look for him here; he had come here thinking that Ashby may still have contacts that would help him keep Arianna safe. He had come here expecting Ashby to be paying for his sins, not thoroughly enjoying his life.
The full force of his hatred for Ashby was slamming rapidly through him, and all of his reasons for being here vanished in an instant.
Now he just wanted to rip Ashby’s throat out. Ashby’s bright green eyes were wide and terrified, his hands clawed at Braith’s arm, trying to dislodge Braith’s fierce grip. His heels kicked against the wall as a choked gasp escaped him. Braith’s fangs were fully extended, he pressed his face closer to Ashby’s, enjoying the growing terror radiating from him.
“Hello brother,” Braith growled.
Ashby choked, his movements became wilder as Braith pressed down harder. “Braith.” Arianna’s shocked whisper barely pierced through the red haze of his fury. He turned slowly toward her, trying to make her out through the cloud that surrounded his vision. For a moment he thought he was going blind again, but then he realized that it was his anger that shadowing his vision now. “Braith.”
Braith clenched down tighter, and then he eased his grip. Arianna knew exactly what he was capable of, but he couldn’t bring himself to kill in cold blood in front of her. He may kill Ashby later, but he would need more of an excuse then the fact that his ex brother-in-law had opened the door. He shoved Ashby roughly back as he stepped away from him.
Ashby’s hand went to his throat; he staggered away from the wall, his gaze hooded as he stared hard at Braith. Arianna stood back, her hands clenched on the bow at her side. He hadn’t realized she had pulled it out until now, and she wasn’t going to put it away if the stubborn set of her jaw meant anything. She stared defiantly back at him for a moment before her gaze slid angrily to Ashby.