Waytreader through an am.., p.35
Waytreader (Through an Amethyst Gaze Book 2), page 35
His threat was for them, but it still hit me like a slap, cutting through my confusion as he made the sudden turn of events starkly clear.
These were our allies.
And they were ambushing us.
But why? Ellan was Ellan. Obsessed with Harthon, too narrow-minded and inexperienced to ever hold his own, too preoccupied with riches and wealth to make political moves.
Ahead, Edmund spun to face us, shoulders settling with a swagger I hadn’t noticed before. “Ellan is not fearing his death at the moment, and neither am I.”
Harthon took in the perimeter of soldiers, sizing them up. I knew what he was thinking: we were on horseback while they were on foot. We could make a break for it. We only had to outrun their arrows. But we couldn’t outrun all thirty of them. One of us would fall, if not all of us.
I saw the moment Harthon set aside thoughts of escape. A muscle in his jaw snapped as he traced the line of archers.
His eyes collided with mine, a severe glint to them.
This was not good.
Not at all.
“You may as well come closer,” Edmund taunted. “We all know you cannot leave.”
There’d always been something about him that didn’t quite sit right. His watchfulness, his silent observation—it had always struck me as strange.
Now it was far more than an innocent oddity.
The soldiers tightened their bow strings, every step they took to corral us tying new knots in my abdomen.
Those knots unraveled and bottomed out when Edmund added, “Though we don’t need all three of you.”
The moment I understood his implication, I jerked to the side, reaching for Joris. “Don’t—”
My panicked yell was for nothing.
The arrow was already buried in his forehead when the sound came out. He didn’t even have the chance to flinch.
Shock wrapped around my throat as his body keened sideways before slipping off the horse. He landed in a motionless heap.
Joris…Joris was dead. His family, his children, his newborn…Oh, skies.
Tears burned my eyes as I numbly looked from the empty bow and the stone-faced soldier behind it to Edmund. His hand was raised in silent order, but his face wore a bored expression, as if ordering deaths were some kind of chore.
It was then that a new horror slammed through my shock.
We’d just told Edmund about Stefano.
He was next.
Run, Stefano. Run, I screamed in my head, like there was some way for him to hear me. But even if he could, would it matter? He could hardly sit upright. He wouldn’t be able to run from armed men, even if he uncovered their intentions in time.
Harthon’s regal face burned red with anger. “Your Princeps is a slow-witted fool for ordering whatever this is,” he growled, every word a menacing threat. “And you’re a slow-witted fool for listening to him. I hope you’re enjoying the feeling of your limbs attached to your body, because I’m going to rip them off and stuff them down your little throat.”
A smart man would have withered. Remembered they wanted to live. Fallen to their knees to beg for forgiveness.
Edmund, however, smirked.
This was a soldier who’d only ever been cordial and agreeable. His blonde hair, polite smile, and smaller stature had always made him seem the furthest thing from a threat. But the way his lips cruelly hitched was natural, like this had always laid beneath his pleasant mask.
It chilled me to the bone.
“You’re correct that Ellan was a slow-witted fool,” he said.
The hatred in his voice was palpable, but then it was irrelevant, because one word reverberated through my entire body.
Was.
Ellan was.
“But he is no longer the Princeps I take orders from,” he purred.
My lungs shriveled. Blood froze in my veins.
And then I stopped feeling my limbs, my soul aching to be somewhere else—anywhere else—as my mind landed on the one possibility that made sense. A possibility I’d intentionally shoved from my thoughts, because if it was true, it was the end.
His next statement, delivered with a gluttonously smug satisfaction, confirmed the only reality worse than what we’d found inside the Domus.
“I answer to Princeps Koerlyn. And he’s very excited to see you.”
To the Readers
Thank you for spending your time in the pages of this story.
Readers like you are the reason I’m able to chase my dreams and put the fictional worlds in my head to paper, and I’m deeply grateful. I’m excited to share the final part of Etarla and Harthon’s journey with you in book three.
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Acknowledgments
When I first dreamed up the idea for this trilogy, I never imagined it would take me here: a published author with readers and a little community and several more books on the way. But I wouldn’t be here without my incredible support system.
Jared, thank you for loving me and pushing me to pursue my dreams (and picking me up every time I run myself into the ground). Mom, thank you for reading all my ugly first drafts and being on-call when I need to talk things out—which is often. Mrs. Dyl, Olivia, and Kat: I’m so grateful to have had your eyes on this book early.
Thank you to Jessica Flannery, my developmental editor, for pushing this story to a greater potential. Endless thanks to Christine Drummond, whose expert line editing, keen attention to detail, and all-around authoring genius made this book stronger and helped me improve my craft. I’m also incredibly grateful to Selkkie Designs for creating another obsession-worthy book cover.
Finally, to all the family, friends, internet friends, and strangers who’ve supported me in big ways and small—it means the world.
About the Author
Megan Monte’s first stories were born on the sidelines of her brother’s soccer games as an elementary schooler. What began as a way to entertain herself became an infinite obsession with getting lost in fictional worlds, either through reading or writing them. Her go-to genre is anything with a blend of slow-burn romance and high-stakes adventure. And, as much as she loves getting lost in characters’ adventures, she also likes to create her own in real life. When she isn’t writing or reading, you’ll find her surfing, hiking, skiing, cooking, traveling, trying (and failing) to handstand, or spoiling her pup in New England, where she lives with her husband.
You can connect with me on:
https://www.authormeganmonte.com
https://www.instagram.com/authormeganmonte
Megan Monte, Waytreader (Through an Amethyst Gaze Book 2)
