Page 27

Still, Niam watched for signs of movement beneath the trees.

His grandfather had told stories of this area, how he’d once courted a daughter of the house before her father came to ruin and the family escaped to Glendor.

So much abandonment in the more remote areas of Delletina.

There used to be thriving farms here. Could there be again?

On they traveled, Niam swaying in his saddle. He’d not ridden this long at one time for many seasons. How could one man’s ass possibly feel so numb while his thigh muscles screamed in agony?

Only two more days to the pass, and roughly seven more to Dellamar, Delletina’s capital city and home to the castle. The closer they got, the more Niam worried about what he might find.

That night, they took refuge in a cave. Niam stood at the cave mouth, staring out at the falling snow.

“I once thought snow beautiful,” came a familiar voice from behind him.

Niam kept his position, letting Rufe come to him. He couldn’t show how much he appreciated any moment with this man.

He glanced over, catching sight of dark curls, a warm smile, and a dimple on one cheek. “You don’t find snow beautiful now? ”

“I’ve learned snow, like many beautiful things, can be quite dangerous.”

Dangerous, like the smirk on Rufe’s handsome face.

“I…” Niam wasn’t sure what he’d been about to say as Zanial’s approach and subsequent scowl sent Rufe back into the cave.

Niam listened to Zanial’s whining, all while imagining the promise in Rufe’s smile.

Casseign sent men ahead into Telaga Pass as they approached the perfect place for enemies to plan an ambush.

Nothing. Eerie silence. The gloom lifted, and sunshine reflected on blinding snow. At least the weather held. Being in the pass during a blizzard meant certain death, either from being stranded or avalanches.

The entire party remained quiet in the pass, picking their way between the remains of humans and horses, some claimed by bad weather, some by bad luck, others in battle.

The mountain kept those she claimed. Removing remains, or even possessions, was strictly taboo.

Few dared defy the traditional superstitions.

Even bandits avoided the area, also convinced Mother Mountain would take their lives for disturbing her dead.

Discarded saddle packs littered the ground, along with remnants of blankets, clothing, and any manner of personal items. A sheer rock face rose on one side of the narrow pass, with a drop-off on the other.

Somewhere in the mess lay Illa Trandores, Whreyn’s lackey, and the woman who’d tried to kill Yarif. Someone who thought she had a claim to the Delletinian throne. Whreyn would do anything, promise anything to win others to his side. What else had he promised?

Vihaan rode ahead of Niam, scanning the surrounding ground. Day-old snow gathered in drifts, but the clear sky gave hope of safe passage.

Rufe drew up beside Niam, a frown on his handsome face. “Vihaan lost some contracted mercenaries here, one close to him.”

Vihaan stopped, staring over the edge of the drop-off, the droop of his broad shoulders visible even with his hooded cloak.

“What happened to him or her?” Niam had gotten so used to Vihaan’s solid, yet quiet presence that he realized abruptly how little he knew of the man, only that Rufe trusted him.

“Her. One hell of a fighter from the Southern Islands. She survived the battle, but an avalanche swept her off the mountain.” More quietly, Rufe said, “I watched her go over the side and could do nothing to help her. I barely escaped her fate myself.”

Niam shuddered. How many people had he known over the seasons who’d lost their lives to Mother Mountain? Too many. “Avalanches are a hazard of this high altitude,” he said. But not the only hazard. “I’m sorry for Vihaan.”

Rufe exaggerated a shiver, glancing around. “This place brings back a wagon full of terrible memories. ”

This part of the pass wasn’t the most treacherous, but none of the mountain passes were without certain risks.

“I was just thinking the same. So many people have lost their lives here, yet it remains the best and safest place to cross the mountains from Renvalle to Dellamar in late fall and winter.” Perhaps added resources could make the treacherous journey through the mountains easier.

Maybe a legion of soldiers to guard the pass.

Casseign spurred his mule closer to Vihaan’s. Offering sympathy? Or merely ensuring Vihaan didn’t go over the ledge? Mother Mountain didn’t claim all the lives lost here. Some people freely gave their lives in despair.

Vihaan mumbled something and gestured with his hands, looking upward.

It wasn’t a gesture Niam recognized, but it might have been a prayer to one of the lesser-known gods or goddesses.

He regarded Casseign, and for a moment, the two locked gazes.

Cass averted his eyes first, wheeling his mule back from the edge and taking his place at the head of the line again, Vihaan falling in behind.

Niam felt a chill that had little to do with the weather. Yeah, he wanted away from this place and its ghosts, too.

They rode silently through the pass until Rufe offered, “We hid in an abandoned village near here after the attack.”

“Yes. A massive sinkhole drove the villagers away. One of many in this area. Thankfully, the sinkhole claimed no lives.” Never had Niam been grateful for the ground collapsing, as this particular sinkhole led Rufe to him. “A sinkhole is how we discovered gold. ”

“Then we went to your keep.” Rufe's sly smile spoke of shared memories when Niam’s incredible loneliness got the better of him, driving him to befriend an injured Cormiran and, later, to love him, though Niam dared not speak the words.

They were casual lovers by unspoken agreement, nothing permanent, no matter how much Niam might wish otherwise.

What would Niam's life have been like if he had been born a commoner? Or better yet, if he’d been Rufe’s fellow soldier, sharing dangers and adventures by day, a bed by night?

But no. Wishes changed nothing—planning and action did.

How strange for Rufe not to comment on the gold discovery, as most people did.

Rufe waved his hand toward their surroundings.

“We got Yarif back. He and Draylon removed their heads from their asses long enough to actually see each other without a cloud of prejudice blocking the view,”—he batted his eyelashes—“and together they rule Renvalle. Emperor Soland’s scheming brought him to a bitter end, putting the honorable Avestan on the throne.

” Rufe grinned, the dimple showing on his cheek.

“And I met a dashing young king.” He spurred his mule to a trot and resumed his position in the line.

A dashing young king.

“And I met a charming rogue,” Niam muttered under his breath.

That night, they lay in their bedrolls, close enough to touch, but more than distance separated them.

Zanial’s judgmental glares, for one .

Niam awoke to find Rufe holding his hand in the predawn hours. Never had so simple a gesture warmed his entire being.

Riders met them the next day after they'd left the pass, and a young captain approached Niam dressed in a Delletinian uniform, with the typical blond hair and blue eyes of many in the high reaches. His mule didn’t appear to be a trained officer’s mount, though, the way it shifted and shied away, and the rider slouched in the saddle as though he’d never received formal instruction in the art of riding, as an officer would have.

His cloak, while fur-lined, showed wear. A captain could afford better.

The way his gaze flitted over the other men before landing on Niam gave away his awareness of Niam’s true identity. Niam’s instincts went on alert, and he pulled the hood of his cloak closer around his face. All around him, soldiers fanned out, subtly taking up defensive positions.

The imposter captain’s men hovered in the background, not coming close enough to make out clearly. Casseign nodded to two of his men, who blended into the forest.

Niam ensured Vihaan, Casseign, and Rufe flanked him before approaching, as much to hear the report himself as for protection. Something seemed… off .

“There’s blood on the hem of his cloak,” Casseign murmured. Vihaan and Rufe shifted closer, and Niam well imagined all three of them resting their hands on their sword hilts beneath their cloaks.

Tension hung in the air. Niam discreetly fingered the dagger at his hip before addressing the captain. “What word do you bring?”

“All is well, Your Majesty. Your family is eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

Niam feigned a relieved breath, making eye contact with Rufe until Rufe stiffened. Niam regarded the captain again, someone he couldn’t recall having met. A man with a touch of an arrogant smirk on his face, showing a decided lack of respect for Niam’s position.

While he’d never been heavy-handed, Niam didn’t tolerate disrespect, and this captain’s behavior lifted his hackles. “Captain, who is your superior officer?” he snapped.

The man blinked hard before answering, his smirk fading into a frown. “Commander Breshear, Sire.”

Niam turned to Rufe and Casseign, speaking in Renvallian. “This man says he reports to Commander Breshear.”

Casseign snorted. “Fresh from the great beyond, is he? Brashear’s been dead for at least two new moons. You two wait here. I’ll take care of this.” He rode out to meet the man posing as a captain.

“Look how he holds himself,” Rufe commented. “He’s unused to riding with a sword on his hip.”

While Casseign spoke to the captain, Niam’s men surrounded the other ten newcomers .

Rufe growled. “See the guy with the scar across his face?”

“Yes.”

“That’s one of Illa’s men. I gave him that scar.

” Rufe clutched his sword hilt, flipping his cloak out of the way.

Others did the same on both sides. “When I say the word, stay behind me or Casseign.” He positioned himself near Casseign, appearing relaxed as the two captains—one real, one fake—spoke in hushed tones.

Rufe unsheathed his sword in one quick move, grasped the reins of the imposter captain’s mount in his other hand, and yanked. The mule whinnied and reared. The captain toppled off her back.

Rufe released the mule, jumped to the ground, and had his knee against the captain’s throat so fast Niam scarcely followed the action.

The others in the captain’s party bolted. Hoofbeats pounded as half of Cass's men rode in pursuit while the rest rallied around Niam, except for Vihaan, Rufe, and Casseign, who focused on the captive and wouldn’t leave Niam unprotected.

One of the missing men from the reports had been a captain. Killed for his uniform and loyalty, no doubt. Rage swept through Niam. How dare this man?

“Let me through,” he ordered his guards, urging his mule forward. He dismounted, striding toward the downed captain. Casseign and Rufe kneeled over him. Blood poured from the imposter’s split lip that likely matched the blood on Rufe’s busted knuckles .

“I don’t know!” the man shrieked in Cormiran as Casseign held him down, and Rufe inched a dagger toward the man’s groin. Cormiran wasn’t a common language among Delletinian soldiers.

“You’re wearing a dead man’s uniform, approaching the king with lies on your lips,” Rufe growled. “I don’t believe you know nothing. Where were you supposed to lead him?”

“I don’t know!”

Rufe dug the dagger’s point into the man’s thigh, a hair’s breadth from his balls.

“Who are you afraid of? What can they possibly do to you that I won’t?

” His sinister grin sent unpleasant chills up Niam’s spine.

“Have you ever heard of barbaric Cormiran interrogation techniques? We’re taught to be brutal from a young age.

In fact,”—Rufe dug the dagger a bit deeper, making the fake captain cry out—“I killed my first man at age twelve. Racked up quite a few kills. You’ll be just one more in a long line.

You’ll be forgotten by nightfall, your body left here for the wolves to find.

I might even leave you alive enough to hear them growling as they rip you apart. ”

The man whimpered. Niam might have, too. He’d never seen this side of Rufe and hadn’t wanted to think of how brutal the man he loved could be.

“I work for Lord Whreyn,” the man sobbed. “I’m supposed to lead King Niam toward an old coal mine, a shortcut only taken in the summer.”

Rufe leaned closer to the man’s face, teeth bared. His guttural words barely reached Niam’s ears. “What was supposed to happen there? ”

“I don’t know. I swear I don’t know.”

Niam met Casseign’s troubled gaze. “Call your men back. Send scouts to the mine. Find out who’s there, and how many, but tell them to use utmost caution not to get caught.”

Rufe, Vihaan, and Casseign huddled, leaving the prisoner with two of Vihaan’s men but remaining close enough for Niam to hear their words.

“If I might make a suggestion,” Rufe said.

“Chances are, we’re being watched. How about sending an imposter with the main party to Dellamar while others escort King Niam through a different route?

Casseign, do you implicitly trust one of your soldiers familiar enough with the area to take us cross-country? ”

“Us?” Casseign arched an eyebrow. “If you’re taking the king, I’m going with you. I grew up near here, though the closest village is abandoned now. My father was a woodcutter. We can stay the night in his cabin if it’s still there.”

Rufe held Casseign’s stubborn glower a moment before dipping his chin in agreement. “You, me, King Niam, and Vihaan. From now on, let's address His Majesty as Ned.”

Casseign blew out a breath, cocking his head to the side. “You’re not here merely as a diplomat, are you?”

Rufe shook his head. “My fighting skills might prove useful. Vihaan’s, too.”

Vihaan grinned. “I’m from Glendor. I fight dirty. If you think Cormirans are barbaric, they’ve got nothing on us. Even our sweet ole grannies would gut a man as soon as look at him. ”

Casseign studied Vihaan. “I agree with the plan.” He turned toward Niam, his hardened soldier facade softening. He gestured for Niam to precede him and, once alone, said, “Your Majesty, they recognized you. Exchange clothing with a guard of about the same height and build.”

Should Niam feel relieved or alarmed by what he overheard? Either way, he’d soon be alone in the mountains with a contingent of three, though he couldn’t think of anyone he trusted more than Rufe and Casseign. A shiver ran down his spine. May the gods and goddesses grant them safe passage.