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Yennes’ heart stuttered. She heard the clatter of armour returning down the halls and looked pleadingly to the Queen. But there was no change in Alvira’s expression, nothing to warn Yennes of any threat.

The contingent of guards returned to the room and Alvira smiled at them. “We have a new guest to the palace,” she said to no one in particular. “Ensure she feels our welcome.”

Something collided with the back of Yennes’ head. She heard the crack as it connected, felt the instant, splitting pain. Then the room tilted sideways.

And she saw nothing more.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO

Before the sun rises, Dawsyn wakes the others. They have camped beneath the outcropped boulders of the slope, huddled around a fire, but now she stomps the low flames to ashes.

They had lost light soon after finding Salem and Abertha, and though Dawsyn would have continued on in the dark, the others were slower. Abertha was weak. The winds picked up and became impossible to push against, so she agreed to stop.

But within the hour, the sun would illuminate the ground enough, and somewhere on this mountain, Ryon, Tasheem and Rivdan were waiting… wounded.

“Get your wits about you,” she says for the second time, kicking the soles of Esra’s feet. Hector and Abertha are already standing. Salem and Esra are slow to rise. They shiver and complain, pulling their furs and cloaks tighter with furrowed brows.

“Have we anything to eat?” Esra grumbles.

“Aye. Go swing that ax, Dawsyn. I can make a meal of anythin’ yeh find.”

Dawsyn frowns. “We ate last night.”

“Aye,” Salem says. “And tha’ hare din’t sit so well with me. ’Fraid it made a hasty return soon after.”

“Ugh,” Abertha grunts, regarding Salem with pinched brows.

“We don’t have time toeat,”Dawsyn says tersely, letting the heel of the ax thump against the ground to expel her frustration. “Get off your arse and walk.”

Esra rubs his eyes. “Mother above, Dawsyn! Such vile lang–”

“Get.Up!”

“You worry needlessly,” Esra tries to pacify. “IfI’vesurvived the Chasm and the big bird lady, then surely Ryon did.”

“He’s wounded,” Dawsyn spits. “So are Tasheem and Rivdan.”

“At least let a man relieve himself,” Esra scowls at her. “Hector, look away. I don’t want to leave you with a diminished impression. It is too cold for gloating.”

Dawsyn grabs Esra by the scruff and hauls him upright. It is surprisingly easy in her state of building fury. “We’re leaving,” she says between gritted teeth. “Do not slow me.”

They walk the entire day through, and each hour only intensifies her worry. She has no clue where to lead them. There are no tracks to follow. The further they go, the more impossible it seems that she will simply stumble across them. They could have been expelled anywhere on the mountain.

By nightfall, Dawsyn’s mind is made. Once they’ve found a suitable spot to rest for the evening, Dawsyn proclaims, “I’m going to fold,” and tries to quash the trepidation she feels. “It is the only chance we have of finding them.”

The others look to one another. Hector gives Dawsyn a familiar glare. One of disapproval and resignation. He often scowled just so on the Ledge when she’d rejected his offers of marriage or tried to press supplies into her hands. He knows her well enough to see when her mind is decided. “Do you knowhow?”

Dawsyn nods once. “I cannot go far,” she admits. “But I must try.”

“That magic is dangerous, lass,” Salem says, voice laced with concern. “Even Baltisse…” Here he gulps and turns his eyes downcast, as though the name pains him to say. “Even Baltisse were challenged by it.”

“I know,” Dawsyn sighs heavily. “But I will not lose him.”

Salem shakes his head. “He’s alive, lass. Holed up somewhere, biding his time and lettin’ his wings heal. This cold don’t touch him the way it does us.”

“Will you swear it, Salem?” she asks the older man, the first human Ryon ever befriended. “Will you swear to me that he’s alive? That he is not fading as we speak?”

Salem doesn’t offer any answer; he seals his lips into a flat line. His eyes turn pleading.