Page 17

I ’m not three feet away when winds snatch me and haul me backwards. I thump against Quin’s chest and his arms grip mine tightly, his voice at the back of my head. “Not on you. On us .”

I jerk forward, but his grip doubles. “Do you think you’re the only one responsible for this?” he growls. “Do you think I haven’t met you halfway at each longing look? That I haven’t dreamed alongside you? That I haven’t justified each moment?”

I stop trying to pull free and stare at one of his hands on me.

His fingers slide up an inch as he speaks in my ear. “Who gave you that dromveske?”

My body is thrumming at his breath skating down my neck.

I whisk around, facing him. “You’re right. It’s on us.”

I take a large step back.

His jaw clenches.

“You know it’s the right thing to do,” I say .

His gaze hits mine sharply, then in a blur of movement he has me over his shoulder and is riding the wind over the camp, all the way to the pass—to the clashing of steel and the stench of fresh blood and the sheltering nook in the cliff.

He deposits me in the nook and I land in a heap. “Why’d you bring me with you—”

“ Together we made this mess. It’s our responsibility to make things right. Together.” He offers his hand to help me up; I ignore the temptation to take it, and push to my feet.

I take a deep, frustrated breath. My stomach is sick with guilt and fear of what could happen before Nicostratus shows.

And yet. Quin dragging me here. Demanding we be responsible.

.. It reminds me of all the times he’s set me back on my path when I’ve strayed.

Despite everything, deep inside, it flutters.

I hold my chin up. “What do I do?”

“Warn the stormblades.”

I feel the gust rush over me as Quin sneaks up the cliff in the dark. When he reaches the top and hides from view, I come out of my nook, yelling at the top of my voice. “The cliff’s breaking! Retreat!”

Stormblades and Wyrds alike throw glances to the cliffs to see fine dust like a crumbling cloud sifting towards them.

“It’s coming down,” I yell. “Retreat!”

Soldiers from both sides dig their heels into their horses and race to either side of the pass in time for a loud CRACK to pierce the air .

A stormblade scoops me up as he gallops past and I’m flung over the retreating horse. I watch the cliffs crumble into boulder-like chunks that block the pass.

The soldiers stop outside the clouds of dust and take in the significance.

They laugh and throw their heads back towards the gods.

They cheer, their spirits revived. I spy Quin returning and merging with the soldiers, coming towards me.

I slide off my stormblade’s horse murmuring thanks, grateful for the care he has for his fellow men whether he knows them or not.

A significant act of kindness when a single additional moment might have cost his own life.

He’ll have to return here in a day because of me. Because of my dromveske. Because Nicostratus has seen it. Stupid dromveskes. If only I’d never learned of their existence—

I stiffen.

“What is it?” Quin says, reaching my side.

I snap my gaze to his. “Take me into Portael. I know how to stop—”

Movement at the top of the cliffs has me narrowing my gaze on a distant figure. “I thought the cliff face was too smooth to climb on that side?”

“That’s not a Wyrd,” Quin murmurs.

“It’s not?”

Quin is quiet and there’s a tightness to it that has me asking. “Who is it?”

“I saw him while I was bringing down the rock. I stopped him from venturing where he’d get hurt. ”

My pulse is pounding now, and I have a queasy feeling. “Who is it?”

“He was up there alone, collecting healing plants.”

I rock back on my heel. “Florentius?”

Quin inclines his head.

Florentius is in Harmoria. No, on the outskirts, between it and us. He’s... being used by the Wyrd camp, like I am by the Skeldar side, healing...

“What about Akilah? Why didn’t you bring him to our side?”

“He wouldn’t come.”

“Akilah?” My voice is thin.

Quin’s eyes meet mine and look away, that look speaking the words before he does. They’re holding her hostage.

She’ll die if Florentius doesn’t return. If he doesn’t do the Wyrd’s bidding.

I storm towards camp. “Take me to Portael.”

Hooves echo on the cobblestones, loud in the eerie silence.

“What are we looking for?”

I keep my eyes straight ahead. “The first dromveske I saw was on the Skeldar ship that brought me to Iskaldir. It was faulty, along with a batch of them bought here in Portael. It caused massive upheaval. ”

“Indeed. You claimed you were touched by the healing goddess and cured the poxies.”

I laugh. “Cure poxies? I’m a mere magic-less healer. There was no poxies.” I steer my horse to the edges of town. “Let’s check this lane. The bushes look promising.”

Quin tries and fails to catch my eyes and blocks my path with his horse until I look at him. “You want to fake the plague?”

“It drove Skeldars to kill their own. Wyrds should run for their lives.”

“They’re soldiers. They came to die.”

I shake my head. “This river flows down from here through Harmoria and into the west.”

“How do you know this?”

“In the months you were gone, they were gone too. I wanted to know what kind of life they might be living in Harmoria. I read books. I studied the geography. This river is important for trade.”

“You want to poison the river?”

“I want to end the war.”

Quin squints as he reads my mind. “You want the soldiers rushing back to their borders to block the river and keep the plague out of their kingdom.”

“They’ll race the river. With shortcuts, they’d make it in time.”

“What if they realise it’s not the poxies?”

“That’s why we need to convince them first.”

“How? ”

“Poison some of our own. Make it look like we’ve caught it. That contact with us will spread it to them.”

“They won’t believe anything until they see deaths.”

“You’re good at acting, Jarl. Teach them.” I steer my horse to the bushes behind Quin, and he snatches my arm.

“What’s that tone for?”

I remain quiet for a long time, staring at the strawberry-like thistleweed winding around.

“Caelus?”

“I’m just tired.”

He lets me go.

We gather the thistleweed and return to camp. While Quin shares this plan with the other commanders, I tuck some of the thistleweed into my medicinal pouch and under the cover of night, slink to the grave pits.

Among the dead—in a separate pit—are a few Wyrds.

Quin is right. The Wyrds need to see the ‘poxies’ hitting their men. I climb into the pit and strip their bodies. To do it right, we need to get into their camp.

“For someone tired, you’re sure quick to don Wyrd clothing.”

I spin on my heel to Quin, crouched at the edge of the pit with a grim glare.

“Being tired doesn’t negate necessity.”

“You understand, then.” He lowers himself into the pit, breezes pushing out the stench of death and keeping him upright. “What’s your plan?”

“The healers have a reprieve thanks to the blocked pass. I’m not needed here. ”

He lowers his head toward mine. “What’s your plan, Caelus?”

I swallow down the sudden jolt at my name and the dangerous way he says it. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“And once you’re in their camp?”

“I’ll figure it out. I’ll use poxy herbs to make some seem sick.”

“And save your Akilah and Florentius, and skip out again?”

I swallow.

He plucks at my Wyrd clothing. “Someone else will go.”

I grab his hand, holding the blue Wyrd cloak in place. “What stormblade will care for my Lumin friends?”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous it is?”

“I can’t leave them.”

His eyes flash in the dark. “I can’t let you get hurt.”

“But I need— I must . . .”

“ All death from now until he comes is on us. You know whose death will destroy me the most? Hm?”

The weight of all this darkness is pressing down on me so hard I can’t breathe. “My choices killed his brother. His death is on my shoulders and it’s paining me. I can’t carry more. Not stormblades’, or the people of Ragn, and especially not my friends’.”

He looks wretchedly towards the stars, breathes heavily. “ I’ll get them back.”

I stiffen.

“Now you’re scared?” he murmurs .

I look up at him and nod.

He laughs softly and looks towards the dead Wyrds. I pause. “On one condition: I come with you.”

He pauses. “Yes.”

“After all that. So easily?”

He throws me a dirty look. “You’ll chase after me if I leave you behind.”

We share a look, a moment teetering between the dark and the light.

“You know me well,” I say.

“I’m in charge.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“That means I get the last word.”

“Of course.”

“Caelus . . .” he says warningly.

“Understood.”

He goes to flick my forehead, but I dodge the touch, and our short reprieve ends. He sighs and swiftly changes from his leathers into the blues of Wyrds. At my motion, he reties his hair into a single braid.

Commander Kjartan’s face appears over the lip of the pit. “You read my mind.”

Quin inclines his head smartly. “We’ll infiltrate and sow the thistle.”

“Only two of you?”

“Any more will make us too obvious.”

Kjartan’s gaze lands on me and lingers. “You’re always at the centre when it comes to ruses.”

“I’m just trying to stay alive. ”

“By going into the enemy camp?”

“It’s not only the body that has to survive.”

“What was that?”

“I can get into their healing tents.” I jerk a thumb to Quin over my shoulder. “He can roar.”

Kjartan’s brows lift. “You seem to know this jarl well.”

I straighten. “I stitched him up. That’s why he chose me to go with him.”

“You saved my men, and then your own in Hinsard.” Kjartan’s eyes settle on Quin. “You’ve chosen well.”

Quin speaks bluntly. “I know. No one can persuade me to change my mind.”

I whip around on an unsteady breath, but Quin is looking resolutely ahead. Commander Kjartan calls me, and I pull myself over to him. He hands me a sheathed dagger. “Come back alive.”

When it’s just Quin and me again, when he’s about to fly me towards the blocked pass, I briefly halt him. “We have our mission. Plant poxies. Save Florentius and Akilah. Get out again.”

“Why are you reminding me?”

“That’s a lot to concentrate on.”

Quin leans closer. “What are you saying?”

I poke his arm and narrow serious eyes on him.

He raises a challenging brow.

“‘No one can persuade me to change my mind’.” I poke him again. “We’re in the middle of a mess of our own making and you haven’t learned anything.”

“On the contrary.” He lightly pokes my shoulder. “It’s someone else who’s failing to understand.”

I bat his finger away. “My head is pounding. I can’t be trying to read between lines while we’re out there.”

“I’ll speak clearly then.” He leans in. “ No one can persuade me to change my mind .”

My chest seizes and I have to clench my teeth against it. “Just. No more of that until we’ve won.”

“I have a rule too,” he says.

“If you abide by mine, I’ll abide by yours.”

“Do you promise?”

“I’m not unreasonable, your majesty.”

His laughter curls softly around me. “I won’t talk about us. And you...” He tucks a finger under my chin; I try to dodge but he grasps me anyway. “You won’t avoid my touch.”

I press my lips firmly together and glare at him, but I’m frustratingly pliant when he slings an arm around my waist and hoists us into the air.

I concentrate on our mission. “How will we get in?”

Quin already has a plan. He infuses the cliffs with just enough magic to make them shake, and the Wyrds digging their way through the blocked pass make a hurried retreat.

While their backs are to us, we descend to the fallen rocks.

A gust whips us with fine dust until we’re covered and Quin slings us between boulders, carefully placing rocks over us to make it seem like we were caught in the landslide.

I dig into my pouch and pull out a tonic. “This will weaken us.”

Quin stares uncertainly, fingers slowly curling around it.

“Quick,” I murmur under the quick-shuffle of approaching footsteps.

He eyes meet mine as he snaps the tonic to his lips and pours it down. With a shaky breath, I do the same and cast the bottle away into the shadows.

Darkness creeps into my mind, and—