Page 18

TYCHO

It rains on and off for days.

I’ve made courier runs in bad weather before, and Mercy is as steady as ever, but the near-constant downpour makes the journey slow and miserable. We haven’t seen any more scravers ourselves, but as we’ve gotten closer to the Syhl Shallow border, we’ve heard tavern stories of attacks by winged beasts, which isn’t promising.

It’s cooler this far north, especially in the mountain valleys. In sunny weather, it’s pleasant, but the rain makes it hell. I’ve been shivering under my armor for the last day and a half, but Malin hasn’t complained, so I don’t either. Some of his easy nature slipped away as the long hours and driving rain wore on us both, so now he’s as quiet as I am. But it’s the only sign of strain. He’s proven to be sharp and reliable, waking early without being called, caring for both horses without being asked, doing menial tasks like rubbing down tack or sharpening blades or fetching buckets of water. When I suggested sparring in the mornings while the horses are eating, I expected grudging acceptance, because we’re both tired. But on the first morning, he was armed and ready before I was.

When the rain finally lets up, we’re nearing my last safe house on Emberfall’s side of the mountains, and I’m ready for a bed and a hot meal. We’re less than half a day’s ride from the Crystal Palace, but that’s if we could go at a good clip. The mud has been keeping us at a walk, and it’s late. Even the horses have lost their spirit.

But when we get to the safe house, we discover that it’s burned to the ground. All that remains standing is the stone chimney.

For a long minute, I stare at the pile of charred lumber in disbelief. There’s no sign of anyone, and everything left is soaked from the rain.

Malin looks at me. “When was the last time you were here?”

I think back. It’s been a while. The location is remote, set well off the road in the middle of the woods. Nothing anyone would stumble upon accidentally.

“A few weeks at least.” I inhale, and there’s only a faint lingering odor of burnt wood. Then again, it could have happened yesterday, and the rain could have washed it all away.

Malin sniffs, obviously thinking the same thing. “There’s no way to know how long ago it happened, but it doesn’t seem very recent.” He clucks to his horse and starts forward.

“Wait.” I’ve been so worried about scravers that I began to forget that Truthbringers still want to kill the king. I have no idea if this is related, but I don’t like the idea of someone burning down my safe house. It could have been done weeks ago—or it could have been done by someone who didn’t want me to stop here now .

I swing down from Mercy’s back. Once my feet hit the ground, I send magic into the earth, letting it stretch out and away from me. This is seeking magic, nothing Malin will see, and I turn in a circle, looking with my eyes while I feel with my power for anything: any people, any predators, anything that might mean us harm.

Nothing. No tracks here either.

I look up. “Ride a loop. See if you see anything.” I pull my bow free, then swing back onto Mercy.

He nods. I look at the sky again. It’s nearly dusk. Something about this feels deliberate in a way I don’t like. The last time I was due to stop here was the first night I spent with Jax. I haven’t been back since then.

Could this have been planned before the attack on the king, a way to prevent him from having anywhere safe to stop before heading to save the queen? Or could this simply be a tragic accident—completely unrelated to me and the royal family?

Malin returns to my side. “No tracks,” he says. “Though they could have been washed away.”

Underneath me, Mercy heaves a sigh and paws at the ground.

I run a hand through my damp hair. I’m too tired for this. “We need to find shelter for the night.”

“How far are we from the guard station at the mountain pass? Can we take shelter there?”

“Under an hour,” I say. But I consider how many soldiers and guards from Syhl Shallow were found to be working with the Truthbringers. Men and women I knew personally were among the traitors.

Anyone on duty at the guard station knows about this safe house. If they were plotting against the king, they would have been in a perfect position to destroy the place without anyone knowing.

If someone is planning to ambush me , they’d expect me to head right for the guard station.

Either way, I don’t like it.

But then I look at Malin in his gold-and-red livery and realize that if someone has been waiting to trap me, I might have already ridden right past them. I always travel alone. I’m always in black trimmed with green, my armor emblazoned with the crests of both countries.

Rhen’s disguise might fool more than just scravers. Right now, we just look like two soldiers from Emberfall.

“We have to go through the mountain pass,” I say, “but we’re not going to stop at the guard station.” I swing down from Mercy’s back again, but this time, I pick up a handful of wet dirt, roughing it between my hands. I run it through my damp hair, dulling the blond. Now that Syhl Shallow and Emberfall are at peace, the lookouts mostly just wave riders through from a parapet. No one should get close enough to see me closely. Even still, I add, “Trade horses with me.”

Malin does me the courtesy of not looking like I’m crazy. He actually does one better: once he’s on the ground, he roughs up a handful of dirt himself and rubs it into the stripe down the front of Mercy’s face.

He sees me looking at him. “I heard what happened when they attacked the king,” he says. “I wouldn’t trust any of them right now either.”

I take up the reins of his horse. “Ride point,” I say. “I’ll take second.”

He nods. “If they stop us, what story do you want me to give them?”

That’s a good question. Two soldiers traveling together isn’t common, and it’s late. We have no written orders to provide. As the King’s Courier, I wouldn’t need them. But if I don’t trust them enough to reveal my identity . . .

“When we get close,” I say roughly, “bind my hands. If they ask your business, tell them I was suspected to be working with the Truthbringers. Say your general ordered you to deliver me to the king. They shouldn’t question it.”

“What if they recognize you?”

It’s a chance I’ll have to take. My heart twists anyway. “There are already rumors to that effect, so the plan will work either way.”

“There are?”

“I gave you a story, Lieutenant.”

His mouth forms a line. “Yes, sir.”

I swing aboard his horse. “Good. Let’s go.”

Half a mile out from the guard station, we stop under a copse of trees and Malin binds my wrists behind my back with a length of thin leather. This was my idea, and I didn’t think it would bother me, but much like the gold-and-red livery I’m wearing, it does .

Malin tethers my horse’s rein to the pommel of Mercy’s saddle, and he leads at a walk. My shoulders are tight, my hands working at the bindings subconsciously. I may as well be a real captive. We’re nearing full dark, and it’s reminding me of the other times I’ve been trapped with no way to escape. The animal keeps prancing, picking up on my tension.

I need to shove the memories away. My breathing feels tight and strained, and I realize stars are flaring in my vision.

Magic. It’s responding to my panic.

I hate this. I need to focus. I look at the sky, the trees. I try to center myself, the way I’ve done before. I’m not a child. I’m not in danger. Malin isn’t my enemy.

Maybe I should just order him to untie me. Surely the guard station isn’t too much of a risk.

But it is. I can feel it in my gut. And asking him to untie me would be cowardly. It would invite questions I don’t want to answer.

And we’re fine. I’m fine. This is silly.

But there’s a wicked, primal part of my brain that won’t stop whispering. Maybe he wouldn’t untie you, even if you ask. You’re at his mercy. Maybe he’s been waiting to—-

I choke these thoughts to a stop. The stars in my vision haven’t gone anywhere. I take another breath, but it feels thin, like it doesn’t fill my lungs. The horse sidesteps, tugging at the rein. I should murmur a soft word, but my jaw is frozen.

“So this one time,” Malin says out of nowhere, “we were marching from Willminton to Silvermoon. It’s a three-day walk. You know.” He shrugs, and his voice is casual, like we’ve been in the midst of conversation for miles.

It’s so startling and out of place that he might as well be speaking another language. I glance over, trying to understand what he’s talking about.

He keeps going. “We weren’t new recruits. Less than a year in, though. Back then, Sephran was a bit precious about his uniform, his gear. The rest of us could be in the same clothes for a week and we wouldn’t care, but anytime we’d camp by a stream, there’d be Seph, washing his things.”

I truly have no idea why he’s telling me any of this, but my thoughts have abandoned some of their panic in trying to figure it out.

“I used to give him hell,” Malin says. “Everyone else would be playing cards or going to sleep, and he’d be washing clothes. He’d hang his livery outside the tent to dry at night. I kept telling him an animal was going to piss on his tunic and then he’d regret it. But one day he drew early watch. He was up at the crack of dawn trying to get dressed in the dark. And you know what happened?”

Malin waits for an answer, and it takes me too long to find my voice. I sound like I’m speaking through gravel. “An animal pissed on it?”

He looks over. “Worse. His uniform was gone .”

That chases more of the panic away. My eyebrows go up. “What did he do?”

“He woke me in a panic, because he was due to report for duty.” He grins. “I remember Kutter telling him to just wear his armor naked and see if anyone noticed. But he was desperate. First year, no one wants bad marks. I think he would have stolen ours, but like I said—most of us were sleeping in them.”

“What happened?”

“I took his watch.” Malin glances over. “So he could search for his things.”

I look over and realize that most of the stars in my eyes have been banished, my pounding heart distracted away by his story. “You’re a good person, Malin.” And I don’t just mean what he did for his friend.

“Not too good.” He looks back, and his eyes spark with mischief. “Who do you think hid his clothes?”

That makes me laugh, and it loosens the final band of tension around my chest.

“Thank you,” I say to him after a moment.

“You looked like you needed a story.”

I frown. “That bad?”

“I could’ve sung you a song, but that might’ve made things worse.” He nods ahead. The guard station is in view. “Should I speak to them in Syssalah or should I act like I don’t speak any?”

I consider that. “Act like you don’t speak any.”

He nods, squares his shoulders, and looks ahead. When we near the guard station, I keep my head down like a weary prisoner, so I don’t know who’s on the parapet. A woman calls down in Syssalah, telling Malin to state his business, and he shouts back, “Do you have anyone who speaks Emberish?”

“I told you to state your business,” she calls back in Emberish, sounding slightly annoyed by her charge.

“I’m delivering a prisoner to the king.” He makes his voice equally annoyed. It’s a good choice. Annoyance is the easiest thing to disregard. Two soldiers exasperated by protocol they don’t want to be following.

“He is from your army. Why are you not taking him to Ironrose?”

I can’t tell if she’s just curious or if she sounds suspicious, but Malin keeps the tone of annoyance in his voice. “I’m just following orders. My general told me to deliver him, so I’m doing that. He was caught carrying messages of treason for the Truthbringers.”

“Wait there,” she says.

Well, that’s not good.

“Four archers on the parapet,” Malin says under his breath.

“I know.” I grit my teeth and try not to pull at the bindings around my wrists. Those stars flicker in my vision again.

After a long minute, during which Mercy starts to paw impatiently at the ground, a man calls down to us. “You’re delivering a prisoner to the king?”

His Emberish is more thickly accented, and I recognize the voice immediately. Captain Sen Domo. If he comes down from the parapet, he’ll know me in an instant. If I were on Mercy in my usual armor, he’d know me right now. My heart kicks.

“Yes,” calls Malin. “I’m supposed to be at the Crystal Palace by nightfall.”

“Then you’re not going to make it, Officer. It’s another five hours, and there’s deep mud through the woods from the storms. You can put him in our hold and bunk here.” It sounds like a reasonable offer, but then Captain Sen Domo chuckles darkly and adds, “I know a few of my soldiers wouldn’t mind taking care of a traitor Truthbringer for the night.”

No. That absolutely cannot happen.

I inhale sharply, but Malin reaches out and grabs hold of my bound arm and twists , and I’m not sure what he does, but the pain is sharp and immediate and I yelp, then growl profanity at him before I can help myself.

“I already took care of that,” he calls loudly, a note of amusement in his voice. “Now I’ve got to tie him to the saddle to sit upright.”

Both Captain Sen Domo and the female guard laugh from the parapet.

Ha. So funny.

Malin adds, “I earned a reprimand for it, though. I’m not looking to earn another one.”

The captain calls, “Go ahead then. There’s rocks in the mud south of Briarlock.” He laughs like they’re co-conspirators. “Good for dragging if your prisoner were to take a fall.”

“Thank you for the advice!” Malin calls. “I’ll be looking for those rocks in case his horse ‘stumbles.’ ”

“Walk,” I growl under my breath, but the horses are already striding forward. I want to speak to Malin, but I’m keenly aware that they might have lookouts among the trees, so I wait.

All the while, the distance grows, and so does my tension. I keep thinking about the threat in their voices, how they would have tortured a prisoner. Maybe they’re not working with the Truthbringers after all, but I’m not sure it’s good news in the other direction. I doubt Lia Mara would like it.

I wonder if they still would have done it if they’d known it was me. There were rumors of me working with the Truthbringers, and if I showed up bound in a uniform from Emberfall, with a soldier claiming I was guilty, that might have lent credence to them.

That could have gone very badly.

My wrists flex against the bonds involuntarily. Those sparks and stars haven’t stopped flickering in my eyes, and I take a long breath. I know it was part of the act, but I don’t like that Malin grabbed me.

Once we’ve gone a quarter mile, his voice is easy when he says, “Do you want me to drag you through the mud? Really sell it?”

He’s teasing, but I’m still too tense, and my thoughts are too jangled. “No. Untie me.”

Maybe he hears the urgency in my tone. He draws his dagger and slices right through. As soon as my hands are free, I rub at my wrists and shake out my shoulders.

I can feel Malin watching me, but he only says, “Are we riding on to the palace?”

“No.” I finally look up. We’re less than an hour from Briarlock. I might not have a safe house, but I do know of a place where no one would expect me to go—especially not right now. “I know where we can find shelter for the night.”