Page 50 of Magick and Lead (Dragons and Aces #2)

ROHREE

N ight hung over the world. Gray, moon-silvered clouds swept past above, bringing with them the scent of coming rain.

Sounds of the forest hummed everywhere: the chirping of frogs and the droning of insects, the occasional hoot of an owl, the rummaging of raccoons and harts in the underbrush.

But sprites, even those who had grown up in cities like Rohree, were always a part of the forest, and she moved through it with ease, even as foot-weary and exhausted as she was.

A sprite’s legs bent backward like the back legs of a deer, and they were as springy as new-cut maple boughs. Now that her legs were growing strong again after her time spent in the box, Rohree felt she could navigate the woods for ages with ease.

Dwarves were a different story. Clua was stouter than Rohree, and her legs were shorter, less adapted for long hikes over grasping foliage and slippery stones.

Still, what she lacked in physical adaptation, she made up for in determination.

She trudged on, wincing with every step, a look of grim discomfort on her face, but she showed no signs of slowing.

Rohree watched her as they walked. Even with her brow crinkled in determination, even with lips curled in a grimace of pain, Clua’s was a pleasing face, Rohree thought.

The dwarf caught her staring.

“What?” she demanded.

“Nothing,” Rohree said. “Just checking on you.”

“I’m fine,” Clua huffed.

“We could rest,” Rohree suggested. “Until morning, at least.”

Clua shook her head. According to the dwarf’s estimates, they were nearing the village Essa and company had been using as their base, and they’d decided to trek through the night rather than risk camping in the open again.

Neither had discussed their reasons; they didn’t have to.

The memory of the last village they’d visited hung over them, casting a shadow like a pair of dark wings.

But it wasn’t just that. Something was coming.

Rohree could feel the dread of it, like an ache in her bones, a shiver at the base of her neck.

And one look at Clua—at the haunted, desperate glimmer beneath her stolid resolve—told Rohree that she felt the same way.

Something was following them. And it was getting closer.

Still, rushing through the night would avail them nothing if they dropped from exhaustion before reaching their destination.

“I think I recognize that hill. We’re not far off now,” Clua said, pointing ahead.

And sure enough, as they crested the rise, a flicker of firelight appeared in the distance below through the screen of tree branches.

Rohree and Clua began to move faster, both because of the downward slope and because the thought of what awaited them sparked new energy.

A soft bed. Warm food. And friends. Essa!

Rohree’s heart ached at the thought of her. She never understood quite how much she’d come to care about that bratty girl-turned-woman until that moment. Essa was the little sister she’d never had. The friend she’d always wanted. And the queen her kingdom deserved.

And more than that, Essa had sent Clua to save her, sparing a valuable sword even as her kingdom fell around her.

She could easily have written her poor sprite servant off as a loss.

But she hadn’t, and Rohree would never forget that.

Once they were reunited, Rohree promised herself that she’d serve Essa for the rest of her days, a vow she’d fulfill with a grateful heart.

But the reunion would also mean Rohree would have to tell Essa how she had been captured. That her trusted Torouman, Ollie, had been the betrayer. At the thought of telling that tale, a painful knot rose in Rohree’s throat.

Still, they pressed on, the trees around them and the stars above and the broad path under their feet passing in a blur until at last they were stumbling into a village.

After the past two towns they’d visited and the trauma they’d experienced there, just the sight of the little farm huts made Rohree’s heart beat faster.

And it only got worse when a man in armor and a cloak stepped out of the shadows of a barn to greet them with a drawn sword.

Rohree crouched, ready to dart back to the safety of the forest, but Clua put a calming hand on her forearm.

“It’s okay. He’s one of ours,” she said.

As the man approached, Rohree saw the blue of his surcoat and the star insignia on it. He was a royal guard. She didn’t know his name, but she recognized his face. And he must have recognized her too, even in the dim moonlight, because he lowered his sword.

“Rohree? The queen’s sprite?”

Normally, she would have bristled at being described in that way, as Essaphine’s possession, but she was so tired and relieved that all she could do was call back, “yes!”

“The queen bade us keep a lookout for you.” The guard sheathed his blade.

“Can you take us to her?” Clua asked.

The man’s expression darkened. “I’m afraid not. She left some days ago for Admar and hasn’t returned.”

Rohree was sure she must have heard him wrong. “For Admar? Essa’s in Admar?”

“Why?” Clua asked.

“It’s not my place to explain the queen’s actions,” the guard said. “But come. I’ll take you to the others.”

They followed the guard through the sleeping village to the door of an old-fashioned longhouse.

“Rohree the Sprite and Clua of Issastar,” he announced as they entered.

A fire burned low in a broad hearth near the door.

Beyond it were many long dining tables and, on the other side of the building, row upon row of beds.

There came a general commotion as the sleepers rose and came to greet the new arrivals.

Candles were lit, and Rohree saw a parade of welcome faces.

There was Dagar, grinning his goofy grin.

Lure pumping a fist in triumph. Pocha sweeping them into her usual ferocious hug.

A dozen other loyalists from the palace appeared as well, but in a second Rohree’s eyes were too filled with tears for her to recognize them.

And she realized that at the worst moments of her captivity, she’d been sure she would never see these dear people again.

Relief flooded her, and with it a wave of exhaustion that nearly brought her to her knees.

But as much as she wanted to put her feet up before the fire and eat and drink and stretch out and sleep in one of these beds, she had to remember her mission.

She unslung the bag she’d carried all the way from the tower, the one that held the witch’s letters.

“We come bearing intelligence,” Rohree started.

“But we heard Essa’s gone,” Clua said.

“So, who’s in charge?” Rohree finished.

“I am,” a smooth, familiar voice responded. The crush of people parted, and Rohree felt her blood run cold. She took him in. The blue robe. The long braid atop the mostly shaved head. The sharp blue eyes. A face she’d prayed she’d never see again.

It was Ollie.

For a long moment, he stared at Rohree, the color draining from his face. Then he gave her a pointed, wide-eyed glare that said: keep quiet if you know what’s good for you.

But even if Rohree had been inclined to keep the Torouman’s secret, she’d already told Clua the truth, and the dwarf stepped protectively in front of her now, yanking the mace from her belt.

“Clua,” Rohree warned—for Torouman, despite being generally peaceful, were also renowned warriors and magick users. Dangerous men. They had to be thoughtful about how to expose him as a traitor, especially without Essa here to shield them from his ire.

But Clua shrugged off the restraining hand Rohree put on her shoulder.

“No,” she growled. “I’ve been dreaming of this moment since the moment you told me…”

“Told you what?” Pocha said, frowning and looking from Clua to Ollie and back again.

Before Clua could answer, the blast of a horn sounded in the night, followed by the roar of a dragon. All heads snapped in the direction of the sound.

“The alarm,” Pocha whispered, already rushing for the door. Ollie gave Rohree and Clua one more warning glance, then followed her out, one hand on the hilt of his sword. Everyone else fell in behind them.

Outside, the sounds of snarling dragons and clashing blades drifted on the wind. In the distance, through the trees, fire flickered and glowed. Suddenly, a large dragon winged toward them, landing in front of the longhouse in a spray of earth and ember.

“Lacunae!” the rider on it shouted. “And the Gray Witch is with them!”

The witch.

Rohree’s stomach turned, dread hitting like a sickness that threatened to double her over.

And then she felt something else. The brand on her leg.

It had healed so well and so quickly that she’d nearly forgotten about it on her long journey.

But it burned now. And she lifted her skirt and looked down to find the glyph branded into her skin glowing with an ominous scarlet light.

Lady Amberleigh had marked her with some enchanted rune that would allow her to track her—she’d told Rohree as much when she burned that mark into her skin. And still, they had led her straight here. How could they have been so foolish?

She looked to Clua. But instead of remorse or terror, she saw a dark grin on her friend’s face.

Clua spun her mace with a flourish. “Good,” she said. “I have a score to settle with that witch.”

“Clua, no,” Rohree said, grabbing her arm. “You can’t fight her. Please. For me. We must run!”

The dwarf’s eyes seemed to glow with the distant firelight. “It’s for you that I will fight her,” she said.

And she turned, brandishing her mace, and strode off into the burning forest. The others hesitated only an instant, then charged after her.