Kester glanced at her. “We can’t talk all night. We have business to attend to, since you wanted the damn trial.”
“I have no idea what’s going on. F.U. wanted it.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Former Ursula. It’s what I call the version of myself I can’t remember.”
He glared at her like she was the mad one—as if he hadn’t just eaten a raw sheep—then crossed toward the car, clicking open the boot. The car lights shone on his dark hair while he rummaged around.
Straightening, he pulled out a long object wrapped in black leather. With a flick of his wrist he yanked the sheath away, revealing an ancient sword. Strange patterns wove and writhed along its iron blade as though it were alive, and the air left her lungs.
Okay. Now I know how he intends to kill me.
Chapter 6
Ursula’s chest unclenched a little when Kester shoved the sword back into its sheath. He slammed the boot shut, turning to climb the slope. “Come, my dear. You’ve got work to do up the hill.”
He trudged toward the bank, and she was left with only the sound of the wind rushing across the snow. She glanced one last time at the distant lights twinkling in the night. If she ran in an all-out sprint, she could be sitting before a fireplace in five minutes. But she’d never make it. Kester would hunt her down like the ewe he’d so casually disemboweled.
Dread wrapped its fingers around her heart as she climbed up the slope. I have to get out of here. Her best bet would be to convince Kester she was stupid, and then disarm him when he least expected it. In fact, given his condescending tone, there was a good chance he already thought she was an idiot.
If she could get the sword from him, she stood a chance. She was skilled with a sword, even if she had no idea how she’d learned. When she’d been discovered in the church, she had no memories beyond her name. But even though she had no idea who she was, the doctors who’d treated her had explained that she still had something called “procedural memory.” She remembered how to walk, cut up her food, and speak English. She couldn’t type, which meant she’d never learned, but as soon as she saw a piano, she’d been struck by a certainty that she knew what sounds her fingers would make on its keys. She just had no memory of how she’d learned to play in the first place.
When she thought of sword fighting, it was the same. She could imagine herself wielding a blade with precision, each thrust and parry as familiar to her as the movements of walking. As she envisioned herself fighting, a little of the terror seeped out of her chest, and she smiled to herself. In all likelihood, Kester was not counting on her expertise in this area. At least F.U. had done something right for her.
The berm was more slippery than she’d expected, and near the apex she had to scramble on her hands and knees so as not to slide down its side. On the flattened hilltop, she straightened, shielding her eyes as a strong gust of wind whipped snow into her face.
When she’d wiped the snow from her eyes, she found herself standing beside an enormous grey rock, its rough-hewn surface crusted with ice. Two more stones rose from the ground on either side, and if she strained her eyes, she could see the dim edges of more boulders curving off into the darkness.
Kester gripped his sheathed sword. He nodded at one of the rocks. “What do you think of the ringstones?”
She turned to gape at him. Is he seriously making small talk? And what sort of opinion was she supposed to have on rocks?
“They’re big.” She kept her eyes on the weapon that swung by his hips. “But why are we here?”
“A trial can only be conducted in a place of ancient magic.” With the sword tucked under one arm, he led her further into the stone circle. As they walked, another ring of giant stones came into view.
She took a deep breath. How, exactly, was she going to distract him long enough to get that sword? He’d nearly lured her into his trap through the power of suggestion, but that really wasn’t part of her skill set. Especially not when she was stuffed into a grey parka, half freezing to death.
Then again, men could be simple-minded creatures.
Kester turned to her. “We need to be within the inner circle.”
She shivered, gazing out over the dark and empty fields. If she could move in close enough to kiss him, she could ram her elbow into his Adam’s apple. He’d drop the sword immediately. And yet, a voice in the back of her mind urged her to follow him.
Maybe, if she survived whatever the hell was about to happen, she could learn the truth about herself, about where she’d come from. If she killed him, she’d be stuck in the darkness forever. There was also the fact that she didn’t particularly want to drive a sword through someone’s heart, even if he was a psychopath. She’d have to see how this played out before she did anything drastic.
They reached the second circle of stones. Crusted in ice, the monoliths towered over Ursula. Her heart pounded.