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KION

“More monster than man.”

—Words etched on grave markers from the Plains of Celandine to the Black City, and throughout the Faded Lands.

“Kion,” Fennor said as I slapped the horse’s withers. “Take a damn breath. There’s no sin in resting for a few days, drinking a little rum by a warm fire. Licking the wounds.”

“Lick what you want, Fennor. I’ll keep moving.”

“Did we not spend the last three weeks moving? Strengthening the magic in the Wall despite your wound?”

My jaw flexed. “Red priests were here.”

“Twenty crazy priests in red cassocks and now they’re dead.”

“It shouldn’t have happened.”

“Much in this life shouldn’t have happened,” Fennor argued, “but you react, Kion, because it’s a tactic you use to keep from thinking clearly.”

The horse flinched. I stared at the bristled brush in my hand; I’d used too much pressure and gentled the stroke toward the animal’s rump—a strong gelding Renwick recently purchased. From the look of him, he had stamina and grit.

“Don’t tell me we’re doing what I think we’re doing,” Fennor groused.

“Then I won’t.”

“You do know it’s the Stone Tower? Where the mages fear you and the queen wants you dead, and everyone who is anyone will be there to bid on the new high mage’s services?”

“Pick your mount, Fennor.”

“Since you’ve taken the best one.” The dragon lord walked between the stalls, dismissing horse after horse until he focused on a brown mare. “Have you announced your plans or are you perhaps rum-addled enough to plan a secret attack?”

“Why would I warn them?”

“For safety’s sake? Peace? To keep from dying?”

“Stay here if you’re afraid,” I said.

“Oh, come on.” For someone who wanted to rest and drink for a few days, Fennor had come to the stable armed and ready for action.

“I get that no one fucks with the Draakon, but you can’t crash their party like they don’t want to bleed you.

Eydis Khoth, Tarian Ardalez, Davinicus priests, Halla Taja—not to mention Anneli Zayas, your spurned and very bitter lover—should I go on? ”

“You should shut up.”

He frowned. “You’re going after Senaria, aren’t you?”

I swiped the grooming brush against the gelding’s rump and the horse kicked out, connecting with the wooden stall.

“Did the dragons tell you they want her back?”

“It’s a new penance. ”

“That’s wyvern shit.” Fennor slid the bolt outside the mare’s stall. “You’re doing this for yourself, Kion. She’s crawled beneath your skin, and you can’t stand it.”

I tossed the grooming brush aside, reaching for the bridle. “I have no need for myself.”

Fennor wouldn’t let it go. “Senaria Wraithion is everything you are. But she makes her own choices. She’s unattainable, and that lure messes with your head. If you’re caught—”

“I won’t be caught. I’ll be walking in the front door.”

“Come on .” The mare snorted when he slid the bridle over her ears, the leather reins smacking as he gathered them. “You can’t expect me to believe all you want is to talk ?”

I settled the saddle blanket across the horse’s back, focused on the rough weave beneath my palms. “Knowing Anneli, she’ll take the opportunity to gloat. Halla Taja wants power and Tarian wants his investment back.”

“You forgot Eydis Khoth.”

I breathed in the scent of fresh hay and darkness. “I didn’t forget him.”

“It’s been three weeks since Senaria left—willingly, I might add. She might want to stay away.”

I hefted the saddle into place while the horse grunted. “Are you fighting every word I say?”

The mare’s bridle jangled as Fennor led her from the stall and tied the reins to a post.

“The Stone Tower is filled with angry mages, including a woman you cannot trust,” he said, despite my glare. “I’ll be the idiot at your side, Kion, but I can’t come up with a damn rebel boat to ram a damn castle because you’re tied to some damn wall again, so let’s settle that up front.”

“Lassa says Bogo disappeared and Sarnorinth is hunting.”

“And you think Bogo went to her?”

“If Sarnorinth shows up, Halla Taja will consider it an attack.”

“Order him back.”

I laughed.

“You want to start a larger fucking war than we already have?” Fennor’s hands waved through the air as his rant gained steam.

“Is Bogo even strong enough to fly that far? It’s a fucking desert.

A week by horseback. He wouldn’t know where the Stone Tower was unless Senaria was crying or locked in a dungeon being tortured and—”

As I swung around, he danced back a step.

“Wrong choice of words. But if you’d been a little nicer to Anneli, she might not have stolen Senaria away, and you wouldn’t be worried about competition from a girl you once called foolish—”

My fist connected with Fennor’s stomach; he bent over, gripping himself.

“A little touchy today, aren’t we?” he taunted as I walked past him, leading the gelding. But he was grinning. Getting under my skin. Making me move.

Renwick entered the stable yard with Essabeth trailing in his wake. “If she’s a high mage now,” Renwick said, “she has powerful magic to use against her enemies. And dragons respond to power. ”

I scowled at the reinforcements. “Are you on Fennor’s side?”

“I’m on yours,” my old mentor said.

“And he’s one candle short of being lit,” Fennor threw in, confident now that he wasn’t alone in his opposition. “If Bogo shows up and big daddy follows, not even Orm can stop the explosion.”

“Senaria would never hurt Bogo,” insisted Essabeth as she swung open another stall gate.

“The ritual changes a person,” Renwick told her. “No guarantees that Senaria will care about people the way she did before, or be the Senna who was your friend.”

Essabeth huffed. “She believes in the Law of Loyalty.”

I stared at them—Essabeth and Renwick—with a draakon’s intimidation, which they ignored. Essabeth selected a brown-and-white spotted mare. Renwick held a padded satchel. “What are you two doing?”

“We’re going with you,” said Essabeth.

“No.” Both Fennor and I spoke in unison.

“Renni said she might need us.”

“Ren wick doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” I said.

Essabeth smirked. “She’s my friend and you can’t stop me.”

I walked into the stall, gripped her shirt and marched her back outside, dumping the girl into an oval watering tank. She sputtered to the surface, and Renwick, the old traitor, helped her out.

“That was a bit of an overreaction,” Fennor mused as water steamed from Essabeth’s blonde hair and Renwick wiped at her face with a clean cloth .

The muscles in my jaw cramped. “She’s not going.”

“No, of course not. Two suicidal idiots are the limit on this trip.”

“Kion,” Renwick cautioned. “Before you act, consider what you don’t want to face.

Anneli deserves the benefit of your doubt.

She sees aspects of her past in Senaria’s present and wants to protect the girl.

Not allow her to be used the way Anneli was used.

The rumors surrounding the destruction of Perun are extreme, but the man who abused her ruled that city.

He did immense damage, trafficking the poor, those without magic, enslaving them.

She destroyed the city and let her enemies say what they wished about her.

She relished the role of villain because fear was her armor. ”

“You sound like her mentor.”

“I am yours, too, Kion, and all I’m saying is understand your enemy before you judge her guilt.”

Fennor held the reins for both horses, but handed the gelding over to me when I scowled.

The saddle creaked as I swung upward, and for an instant, I flashed back to the day when Senaria dangled from the side of a mare with her hands locked in mage shackles.

She’d glared as if my skin would melt beneath her magic because we both knew I’d put her there.

Her courage and resistance fueled a guilt I didn’t like. Not then. Not now.

I kicked the gelding’s flanks; he leapt into a gallop. Fennor stayed close as we left the castle walls, and when I summoned the sandstorm, I heard his complaint.

“We’re not using that mage trick to travel, are we?”

The swirling mage energy increased, but not enough to drown out his, “Well, fuck. I hate traveling this way.”