Page 43

TYCHO

“You know,” Malin is saying, “that was blood on her hands.”

“I know.” We’re saddling horses for a midday ride into the mountains, but I keep thinking about the stains on Callyn’s hands, the flecks of it on her skirts.

I need to get to the queen.

Where was she? What happened?

“Should we report it?” says Malin.

I consider that. He’s really asking if we should report it to the king . Because even though Callyn was heading for the queen, it’s grown clear that she and Grey aren’t speaking to each other at all . I’ve made myself scarce around the palace, but it’s obvious. Grey is always on the fields, or meeting with officers, or locked away in his rooms. As I said to Callyn, even though we don’t interact, I’ve known him long enough, and I can feel his sorrow, as if his emotion, locked away, leaks into the air the way my magic would. There’s a part of me that longs to seek him out, to undo the harm of our last conversation. The more time that passes, the more it weighs on me.

As soon as I have the thought, I scowl. He hasn’t come anywhere near me either. And it’s not like I’m hiding.

But that same tension has begun to cling to everyone and everything else , and it’s almost like the distance between the king and queen has spread. I see it in the stables, on the fields, in the way Emberish soldiers no longer spar with those from Syhl Shallow. Even when Nolla Verin fought with Malin, there was an angry cast to it. It seems that battle lines have been drawn, and no one wants to risk crossing them.

If something has happened to Callyn, it’s doubtful Grey would even hear about it.

Does that matter? I don’t know. I’ve never battled with my own sense of duty and honor like this before, and I hate it.

I imagine striding back to the palace to look for Grey.

Then I imagine him snapping at me to get out of the public eye.

Malin is still waiting for an answer, so I make a noncommittal sound and reach for Mercy’s girth, buckling it tight.

He steps around his horse to look at me. “Tycho.”

I finally look at him. “Grey wasn’t even on the fields when we passed,” I say. “Callyn said the princess was fine. She was looking for the queen, so whatever happened, it’ll be shared with Lia Mara.” I pause, listening to the sound of other horses in the stable, then take a moment to cast my magic into the air, seeking . . . ?anything.

But I sense nothing. The rhythmic sound of soldiers running drills on the training field hasn’t even stopped.

I look back at Malin. “If something major has happened, there’s no sound of it.”

That seems to placate him. He sighs and reaches for his horse’s bridle, and then he swings aboard, and we’re off.

The sun beams down on us both, and we’ve reached that point in the year that I’m glad for the dense tree cover, because I’m sure the soldiers on the fields are baking in their armor. Malin is quiet today, and I’m sure he’s thinking about Callyn’s appearance. Guilt is nagging at me, too, refusing to be shoved away.

Why wouldn’t she ask for help? Why would there be flecks of blood on her skirts? It was definitely in streaks on her hands, though it looked like she’d hastily wiped it away. I haven’t seen blood like that outside of a battle, or maybe the times the scravers have—-

My thoughts stall.

Scravers.

I draw up my reins and cast my eyes up to the sky.

Malin notices at once, and he does the same. “What? What is it?”

“It grew cold last night, but nothing happened. I’m wondering if there was an attack this morning—and she was involved.” I cast my magic into the air again, seeking.

To my surprise, I get a flicker back.

“Nakiis,” I whisper. A cool breeze pulls between the trees, lifting Mercy’s mane. I’ve been desperate for his return, for word about Jax and what’s happening at Ironrose. I brace myself, ready for him to slam into me or knock me off the horse or something equally violent, so I’m startled when Nakiis simply sails down through the trees to land directly on the path.

His sudden appearance is so unexpected that I stare at him, and it takes me a moment to find words. “You’re back,” I say. That wound under his ribs still hasn’t healed, but it looks like he’s been in another fight. Another slash bisects the muscle of one arm, and the gray of his skin is darker in places, like he’s bruised. “And you’re hurt again.” I glance up at the trees. “Is Igaa with you?”

“No. I told her to keep her distance.” He pauses. “Your castle in Emberfall is guarded as closely as you are here. It took quite a bit of effort to reach your Jax—and to return.”

Your Jax. My heart thumps. I swing down from my horse to face him. “ Jax. Did you—is he—” I don’t even know what to say. My thoughts swing wildly between concern for the creature in front of me and curiosity about what happened to Callyn and desperation for the young man I left in Emberfall. “Were you able—are you—”

“ Tycho. Here.” He pulls something small and dark out from behind one of his daggers, and for a moment, I think he’s drawing a weapon. But it’s a short twist of steel, simply forged, with smooth edges. “He gave me this, to give to you.”

I almost ask what it is, but then I notice that a single strand of dark hair is caught around the loop in the steel.

“Oh,” I breathe.

“What is it?” Malin says.

My cheeks catch fire, and I close my hand around it. “Nothing.” I look back at Nakiis. “What did he say?”

“He asked me not to tear out his organs.”

Sometimes I want to punch him. “Want to see how fast I can tear out yours?”

“He said he would be patient and wait for your return so you can ride to Silvermoon, just like you promised.”

I take a breath. Jax is well. He’s waiting. For me.

For the first time in weeks , my heart feels a bit lighter.

“Thank you,” I say to Nakiis. I tuck the twist of steel into my pouch, then reach out a hand. “Here, I can fix your injuries.”

He takes a step back. “No magic. The others will sense it, and I cannot afford for them to attack you .”

I stare at him, trying to puzzle that out. “The other scravers?”

He nods. “The others followed the trail of magic to the palace. They know more magesmiths have gathered here. Xovaar and the others are set to attack.”

“The trail of magic? I haven’t used any magic.”

“Not you.”

I frown. Did the king do something? The queen? Has something happened?

I turn for Mercy. “Mal. We need to warn Grey. We need—”

Nakiis reaches out and grabs my arm. His claws dig into the few inches of skin above my bracer. “I am not ready to stand against them.”

“I don’t care! I need to warn him!”

He shifts close. “Xovaar’s scravers are here to kill all of you, Tycho. If they kill you , they will eventually kill me, and then they will kill what’s left of my people.”

I try to wrench free, but his grip is too strong. I reach for a dagger with my free hand, but Nakiis is quick, and he tackles me to the ground. Mercy spooks, and the dagger goes skittering away.

I heave against his weight, but he has my chest pinned. I can’t dislodge him. I gasp against the strain, just as sparks and stars flicker in my blood.

“I have a clean shot,” Malin calls.

“If you kill me,” Nakiis says, “nothing changes. You both die. My people all die. There are too many of them.”

My chest heaves. Magic flares in my veins, and bitter wind swirls around us. I once worried this vow might pit me against Grey.

I never thought my vow to Nakiis would prevent me from helping him.

The scraver looks down into my face. “You made a vow to stand beside me . And I will make sure you live to keep it.”

I strain against his hold. There are too many angles here. Too many people who need me—and too many people to disappoint.

As usual, my choices aren’t my own, and my life is bound to another.

I look up into Nakiis’s black eyes. “Shoot him,” I say.

Before the words are even out, ice-cold wind rushes through the trees, and Malin’s shot goes wide. He swears, and sunlight glints as he draws a blade. Somewhere overhead a scraver shrieks.

I’m not the main target here, and we’re wasting time. “Go,” I shout to Malin. “Warn the king.”

Hoofbeats echo before I’m even done speaking.

I draw a slow breath and feel the magic in my blood, trying to convince it to settle. I need to be calm. I need to think.

“Please,” I say to Nakiis. “I can help him. You can help him. He once helped you.”

Those dark eyes bore into mine. “It is bigger than that, Tycho.”

I struggle under his grip, and it reminds me of the night he pinned me in the arena of the tourney. He’s not heavy, but he’s strong enough to trap me here all day.

“How long does he have?” I say desperately. “When will the scravers attack?”

There’s a part of me that doesn’t expect him to answer, but he does. His grip doesn’t loosen one bit, but he leans down close, and his breath is like ice.

“Now.”