Page 56

“Trust nothing,” Essabeth warned.

“I won’t.”

The road evened out and the horses broke into a gallop.

Three of us: the boy messenger, Essabeth, and me.

There hadn’t been time to gather men from the castle.

I wasn’t sure I wanted them without knowing their loyalty—which might be toward the Draakon and strong enough to stop me from leaving. Riding on this crazy quest.

We rode hard through the valley until the boy slowed his mount to a walk.

The horses were sweaty, and we’d been riding at a gallop long enough.

With more distance to go, the animals needed to recover their stamina…

much like my experiences with magic. I hadn’t yet gained Anneli’s endurance, and the worry nagged the way a stone in my shoe might nag until I stopped to take it out.

And yet, I could not take this worry out as if it were a mere pebble. If I had to fight, I would need magic I wasn’t sure I had.

Ahead, ribbons of gray chimney smoke marked the approach to Gheim Vale, and as Essabeth urged her horse closer to mine, I wove a privacy veil to seal off our conversation .

“Tarian wants me back in Thales,” I told her. “He’ll be using Nikki as leverage. We don’t get too close until the king shows himself or sends an emissary with his terms.”

“You don’t intend to go with him?” she asked, although the resolve in her voice told me that wasn’t a question.

“He claims my father asked him to protect me. He’ll try manipulation, use loyalty as a weapon.”

“He knows the laws as well as you do—both the Law of Loyalty and the Law of the Unexpected,” Essabeth countered.

“I’m not foolish, Essa,” I said as the first stone-and-thatch houses came into view.

“This is Tarian’s second move. The first was at the banquet when he pretended remorse.

Now he’s gambling that I won’t use magic against the King’s Guard when Nikki is with them.

We’ll negotiate, but if it goes bad…the minute you sense something’s wrong…

leave and ride hard for Samira.” I had no mercy in my voice.

“Under no circumstances do you ride back to Aram Dun. We cannot lead the King’s Guard there. ”

“How did they track you this far?”

“I don’t know.” My hand tightened on the reins and the horse reared his head in protest.

“It must be the red priests, using magic,” said Essabeth as we entered the village.

The magic surrounding us faded, and once again, the world intruded.

The sounds of birds, horses, dogs. The scent of wood smoke and wet earth.

Men stood beside the muddy road, many of them dressed for battle with weapons in their hands and horses waiting at their backs.

The women stood in doorways as our horses trotted past, and moments later, the warriors had mounted and thundered in a double line behind us.

These men I trusted. These were the guardians, the victors who left the bodies of their enemies hanging in a spreading tree beside the broken shields and torn flags of defeat.

We galloped around a curve in the road, the horses’ tails flying, mud splattering. My body felt primed for the coming confrontation. The horse and I melded into one living being; he reacted to my needs, perhaps another benefit of a Skyborne mage.

I would not allow doubt to seep into my thoughts. I was no longer the opponent Tarian Ardalez expected. My spine ached with the memories of Silk. With the Law of the Unexpected. Strike fast, strike hard, from where the enemy was blind.

Time passed, not fast enough. Then the legendary hanging tree came into view, silhouetted against the skyline. The tattered warnings swayed in the bitter wind as if the intrusion agitated the dragon god himself. My attention drifted…what was Kion doing? What enemies did he stalk?

He would prevail because the Draakon did not fail. But how angry would he be once he learned of this?

My enemy…here, on his doorstep.

He would hate it. Hate me, riding out to face Tarian without being by my side. But the duty was not Kion’s to perform. It was mine. This was what I had to do and why I’d survived the ritual to become a High Mage. To become stronger than my enemy .

The horses slowed, then halted, milling around.

The men controlled their eagerness with more discipline than I could muster with my thoughts.

How deceptive to have men as skilled and driven to fight as these men, hiding behind the peaceful facade of Gheim Vale?

The honor of protecting the dragons was their birthright, along with guarding the hidden refuge of the Draakon. Warriors who would not hesitate.

I would not risk their lives foolishly, or waste them on an unwinnable battle, if it came to that.

Beneath me, the horse shifted his weight. He was twitchy and eager, and I rubbed the damp curve of his neck. Essabeth waited beside me. Her horse blew out a gust of air, the tack jangling as the gelding shook his head.

“Your mount is as zealous as mine,” I murmured.

“With nothing to chase,” she said dryly as she stared toward the empty vista. “You don’t suppose they got lost?”

In the open field, long grass became a malicious sea, undulating in the breeze with no King’s Guard in sight. Essabeth added, “What a disappointment, after coming all this way.”

“The birds are fretful.” I stared at the clear sky and the flock that banked and changed direction as one mass of black, winged dots, their cries faint but mournful. “The enemy is close.”

“They’ll come from two directions,” murmured a man from Gheim Vale. I’d assumed he had the most experience since he’d ridden at the head of his company. An air of command strengthened his posture. He pointed. “The enemy hides behind those hills. And those. But someone comes from the middle. ”

The nerves beneath my skin tingled at the traces of mage energy. “What weapons do you have?”

“Most are archers, skilled from horseback. The swords they carry will take off a man’s head like a ripe melon from its stem. The others know what to do.”

So…they were a lightning calvary. Men who fought from horseback swiftly, lethally, and effective against the ranks of the King’s Guard, soldiers who often attacked while standing on the ground or mounted on armored horses.

Horses known to cluster, unable to handle the weight.

My father told me stories, how the King’s Guard relied on pompous intimidation and the more agile weapon of the magic-wielding priests.

Which foe would we face today?

In the distance, a solitary rider came into view.

A white pennant fluttered in the air, attached to a long spear.

When the man reached shouting distance, he turned the unsettled horse in a tight circle and then stabbed the spear with its white flag into the ground as if marking a line to be crossed.

“I bring greetings from his Royal Highness, King Tarian Ardalez of the Southern Lands. He has offered you a gift, Senaria Wraithion. Your brother, but only if he reaches this flag unscathed and falls into your arms while still breathing. Then he is yours.”

A man to my left had nocked an arrow, held the bow with the arrow point aimed at the sky. “Hold,” the man in command ordered, his voice low. “A trap.”

“I know.” Raising my voice, I shouted, “What proof do I have that Nikias is with you? ”

The man pointed back the way he’d come, his horse still circling as he pulled viciously on the reins. The iron spikes on his boots gouged into the horse’s bloodied sides and I sucked in a raking breath: a red priest, dressed as the King’s Guard and not in crimson. But wearing the favored boots.

Treachery was indeed here.

As the priest rode off, defiant, I stared at the lone figure on a galloping horse, still too distant for details beyond the colors of red and gold in his tunic and pants.

Nikki was a better horseman than I was, but the horse wove without guidance.

The rider slid from side to side in the saddle, then rocked front to back.

Had the priests tied him to the saddle because he was unconscious from a beating?

Did mage shackles torture him into oblivion?

The horse and rider crested the low hill, and it became clear; the rider wore a hood that covered his face and tied around his neck. Even if he was conscious, he was blinded, with no idea where to go. Safety was lost to him.

The horse slowed to an ambling walk.

“The animal’s lame,” said a man behind me. “Blood drips from one leg. He can’t run far.”

“They aim to draw us out,” said another.

The horse and rider circled without direction, weaving left, then right.

“Can you tell if it’s Nikki?” hissed Essabeth.

“His size is right. But at this distance, with that hood…” The horse pawed the ground; I’d pressed my heels with the signal to go, while tightening the reins to hold him in place. “Anyone can wear a guard’s uniform. ”

“Would Tarian use a decoy or see an advantage in offering your brother?”

Did it matter if Tarian was sincere or not? The king understood how best to torture me. Hadn’t he been doing it for years, turning me into Silk and forcing me into the most depraved minds?

Tarian knew how to break me. He’d watched me choose compassion over cruelty.

I’d refused to allow the priests to brutalize Sevyn, and Tarian expected me to react with the same weakness.

Force caution from my mind in favor of emotion.

Ride out into the open to save this boy.

I’d be vulnerable and so overwhelmed with fear that I’d agree to do anything.

Welcome his demands, if that kept Nikki safe.

Deceit filled this moment. No one needed to tell me that truth.

This wasn’t a negotiation but a show of force.

Jeers rose from the far edge of the field.

The enemy stood there, some men on foot and others mounted on gaudy horses.

Swords and spears jabbed upward while the goading insults were loud enough to echo.