Daindreth’s Outlaw

by

Elisabeth Wheatley

Copyright 2022 by Elisabeth Wheatley

All Rights Reserved

Published by Avowed Publishing and Media, LLC

Table of Contents

Chapter One: Amira

Chapter Two: Daindreth

Chapter Three: Amira

Chapter Four: Daindreth

Chapter Five: Amira

Chapter Six: Daindreth

Chapter Seven: Amira

Chapter Eight: Daindreth

Chapter Nine: Amira

Chapter Ten: Daindreth

Chapter Eleven: Thadred

Chapter Twelve: Amira

Chapter Thirteen: Daindreth

Chapter Fourteen: Thadred

Chapter Fifteen: Amira

Chapter Sixteen: Thadred

Chapter Seventeen: Amira

Chapter Eighteen: Daindreth

Chapter Nineteen: Thadred

Chapter Twenty: Daindreth

Chapter Twenty-One: Thadred

Chapter Twenty-Two: Daindreth

Chapter Twenty-Three: Thadred

Chapter Twenty-Four: Amira

Epilogue

Daindreth’s Traitor

About the Author

Chapter One

Amira

Coming home had never felt like such a gamble. Always, Amira had known what to expect when she set foot in her own country. Life in Hylendale had not always been pleasant. There was her stepmother’s disdain, her father’s demands, and the mild distrust of the whole kingdom to deal with, but Amira had always known what to expect.

Yet there was so much she didn’t know now. Had word already reached this far north that she had stolen the imperial archduke from the palace? A part of her still couldn’t believe she’d done it herself. Would her father help the empire hunt her down? Probably, she reasoned. This was the man who had been willing to hand both her sister and then her off to Daindreth, despite believing the archduke was a monster.

This didn’t feel like coming home. This felt like stepping into a hunter’s field, not knowing if she was the fox or the hound. Were they ahead of their pursuers or walking straight into a trap?

“Welcome to Phaed,” Amira said as she marched off the dock and onto cobblestone.

Following her was Daindreth Fanduillion, Grand Archduke and heir to the Erymayan Empire, and his cousin Thadred. It had been a few days since she had stolen Daindreth from within the imperial palace. Empress Vesha had tried to use the cythraul that plagued Daindreth to control him and subject the monster to her own will.

The demon was still inside Daindreth’s head, but he was dormant for now, as he always was when Amira was close. Amira had yet to find a way to make her effect permanent. So she and the two men had come north, seeking the Cursewood where it was rumored the Istovari sorceresses still lived. Those sorceresses had cast Daindreth’s curse in the first place. They seemed the most likely to know how to break it.

“How far from here to Lashera?” Thadred asked.

Amira had to think for a moment. “Seventy leagues or more, depending on your route.”

Neither of the two men spoke, but Amira was sure she knew their thoughts well enough. The farther they had to travel, the more time the empire’s agents would have to catch up to them.

Amira moved away from the docks and into the city. Thadred and Daindreth followed close on her heels. The carrack they’d sailed in on, the Irenmor, lay anchored at their backs with the crew still securing the rigging to the docks.

Amira wondered how long it would be until the sailors were spreading word to every tavern keeper and prostitute in Phaed of the girl passenger and her two young male escorts. With Amira’s red hair and Thadred’s limp, they were a memorable trio.

How long before Vesha’s spies found their trail?

Her side still ached from the stab she’d taken while breaking Daindreth out of the palace. After a few days soaking the wound with ka, she’d healed much faster than she thought she would. Her newly acquired power shuddered through her veins. Ka congealed around her feet and rippled through her fingers, ready for a command.

Since breaking the Kadra’han’s curse that had forced her to obey her master—first her father and then Daindreth—Amira’s power had doubled, perhaps even tripled. Sometimes, Amira caught herself weaving spells without meaning to. They were benign, useless things, just strands of ka threaded or knotted into shapes, invisible to the eye but detectable to a sorceress.

Since freeing Daindreth from the palace, she could see the golden ka everywhere. It filtered on the breeze, rose from the packed bodies in the street, flitted above them, and scurried below them as seagulls, rats, and other vermin wove their way in and around the humans.

Phaed was a young city. It had been a small fishing village until the Erymayan invasion, when Emperor Drystan had appropriated it as a supply station for his troops.

Brothels had been the first permanent establishments, and then tanners, blacksmiths, potters, and other tradesmen had followed. At the end of the war, the steward of the city had been granted a knighthood for his service and now styled himself Baron Phaed.

Once it had become a barony, the small fief had a monastic enclave installed for devotees of the goddess Lumë. Since then, the Phaed crest had been a single eye peering out from a lamp and the township had become a respectable stop along the coast.

Phaed was the last port in safe waters before one crossed the Jaunty Straits, known for their swells and treacherous currents. It was a good place for merchants to deposit their liquid assets before heading across the sea to the western parts of the empire, where gold, silver, alum, copper, and gemstones were mined from the barren landscape and the carcasses of dead volcanoes.

“You seem to know where you’re going,” Thadred remarked.

Daindreth had been silent since leaving the ship.

“I do know where I’m going.” Amira turned left at the third avenue they came to, stepping around a street sweeper with his broom.

They turned into a street blocked off from horses and carts with a narrow row of poles that allowed only pedestrians to pass through. On the other side of the row of poles were buildings lined with cast iron grates that weren’t recognizable as grates at a first glance.

The metal had been shaped into scrollwork, vines, or geometric shapes. Heavy bolts secured the grates to the buildings’ walls and guards with halberds slumped against the outside of most the shops.

Amira inclined her head to one of the guards and stepped through the open entry of an establishment with “Beville and Daughter” painted across the top. Thadred and Daindreth stiffened as if in surprise, but followed her.

At the moment, the three companions were poor. It had taken all the money Amira and Thadred had to orchestrate Daindreth’s rescue and secure passage here. Amira had mentioned to the men that she had a solution to their money problem in Phaed, but had left out the details.

The room inside had a mosaic depicting the lamp eye of Lumë coated in a thin layer of street dust. There was a single wooden bench to one side and the walls around them were solid save for a wooden door in one corner and a barred window in front of them, giving a view of stacks and stacks of chests, boxes, barrels, and crates.

“Good morning,” said a cheerful female voice. The voice’s owner took in their odd trio without so much as a blink. She stood behind the grated window with her hands folded neatly before her as if she had been expecting them. “Lucia Beville, at your service.”

Lucia was of perhaps middle years with a face made pleasantly round from years of smiling. She took in the three with a sharp eye, no doubt comparing them to a thousand other patrons and guessing at their backstory and business.

Did she take them for runaways? Young nobles off squandering their parents’ money? Perhaps lost?

Whatever she might have assumed about them, Lucia gave nothing away. She smiled, but there was a sharp look in her eye that warned Amira this woman was used to catching swindlers, liars, and cheats.

“I’m here to make a withdrawal,” Amira said.

Lucia glanced to Thadred and Daindreth as if expecting one of them to speak. When it became clear that Amira was the leader, she cleared her throat and returned her attention to the younger woman.

“Under whose name will you be making a withdrawal?”

“Cromwell,” Amira said. “Terrence Cromwell.”

Lucia’s brows rose almost imperceptibly.

This was the account Amira had always used whenever her father’s business had taken her to the western coast, usually in disguise. Phaed was technically inside Hylendale’s lands.

“Then I shall need the password.” Lucia pushed a piece of parchment and a stub of charcoal under the grated window, the set of her mouth just a little harder.

Amira prayed to every god that might be listening that her father’s lawyer hadn’t changed it. She hastily jotted down Elin and the withdrawal amount, then pushed the parchment back to Lucia.

Lucia took the scrap of paper. “I need to compare this to our ledgers.”

Amira nodded in understanding. She waited, adjusting her left cuff.

Thadred leaned on his hickory cane sword, taking stock of their surroundings with a curious stare. Amira had found this cane to replace the one he’d shattered in rage back in the palace, right before she’d gone to rescue Daindreth. Anyone who saw the knight might take him for a manor fop sneaking out for an adventure.

Daindreth studied the window of the depository, waiting for Lucia to return. He stood close to Amira, only a handbreadth or so away. She had only to lean into him to touch him. He noticed her watching him and met her eye.

She offered him a slight smile. His brow furrowed ever so slightly then he smiled back.

There was still a stiffness and awkwardness between them. The night she had rescued him from the palace, there had been no barriers. To Amira, it had felt like pure connection. They’d both been vulnerable and desperate in their own ways.

They had escaped to the docks and Amira had passed out after boarding the ship. She didn’t remember much after that. The next morning, Amira had woken up alone with her wounds sewn and her head sore. Daindreth and Thadred had been outside the cabin, arguing in hushed voices.

Amira had lain awake, unable to make out their words, but understanding their tones. In the few minutes it had taken for Daindreth to finish their discussion and come into the cabin, something had happened.

Amira had remembered the humiliation of the night of the ball. She had offered Daindreth a place in her bed and he had refused—in front of half the imperial court. She remembered him ordering her to leave him forever.

Daindreth had banished her and Thadred, using their Kadra’han curses to make them flee the capital palace in Mynadra. It had been part of his misguided effort to protect them, but Amira had broken her curse to come and rescue him anyway.

Breaking the curse had almost killed her and rescuing Daindreth had almost killed her several times, but it had been worth it.

She had still returned to the palace for him. She had still fought and nearly died to save him. He had helped her when she was hurt, but maybe...

She remembered him pushing her away the first time they had kissed, fleeing like she was a temptress in an old fable. What if he only cared for her because of what she did to the cythraul? It was irrational for her to think that—Daindreth had been willing to sacrifice himself to keep her and Thadred safe. Yet Amira still found herself doubting. Afraid.

She had become frightened and hidden back behind her walls once again. She was self-protecting, and she knew it, but...

Amira hadn’t spoken to Daindreth in private since leaving Mynadra. Always, Thadred or someone else had been in earshot. She had spent some time thinking of the tongue-lashing she would dole out, but then her anger had faded, and it hadn’t seemed to matter. It helped that she’d overheard Thadred doling out his own tongue-lashing on the archduke—using language to rival a wharfside fishmonger.

Amira tried to focus on the present. She had Daindreth, they were free, and they had a plan.

Even if that plan hinged on the mercy of sorceresses who had left Amira for dead in a pool of her own blood and cursed Daindreth to damnation. It was better than nothing, she supposed.

But Amira had overcome a dozen warrior sorcerers of greater strength than her own, a palace of soldiers, and two angry demons. Surely, she could find a way to make her Istovari mothers listen. Until then, they needed to stay ahead of the empire’s trackers.

Vesha had promised Daindreth—use of his body and his life at least—to the demon that lived inside him. Allegedly, that was to guarantee the continued prosperity of Erymaya.

According to the empress, the empire’s flourishing under her rule had been thanks to her familiar, Saan Thii, and other denizens of the Dread Marches who had struck a bargain with Vesha. Whether that was true or not, Amira didn’t rightly care. If the cost was someone’s soul, it wasn’t worth it, especially if that someone was Daindreth.

Amira glanced to Daindreth. He stood stiff with his shoulders at an odd angle, like someone who expects to flee at any moment. He was uncomfortable here. He had probably never been into a city without a retinue of guards and retainers. She would need to teach him how to blend in.

Daindreth noticed her watching him and inhaled, but the shuffling of Lucia’s return interrupted anything he might have said.

Lucia returned carrying a small wooden box sealed with wax and a signet burned into the top. “Is this the correct one?”

Amira had to clear her throat to hide her relief. “Yes. Thank you.” She stepped forward and took the box, studying it from the sides to confirm it was indeed the correct one.

“It has been untouched since it was left here,” Lucia assured her. “As per the contract.”

“I have no doubt,” Amira said, even as she tested the weight of it and reexamined the wax seal. It was the familiar mark of a polecat twisting in a circle so that it seemed to be running along the inside of the seal, the same mark branded into the top of the box. Cromwell had chosen the polecat as his family crest years and years ago, saying it was a humble creature to remind his heirs of their origins.

In the pause, Lucia glanced to the archduke before she looked back to Amira. “All is in order, I assure you.”

Amira nodded once. “Yes. It appears so. Thank you.” She stepped away from the barred window with the box held in both hands.

Daindreth followed and Thadred trailed after them out the door. In the streets, they passed several bustling merchants on the way out, narrowly avoiding collisions with laden traders just come off their ships.

“What have you got there?” Thadred asked, nodding at the box.

“This should be enough to get us horses and as far as Lashera,” she said.

Thadred arched one eyebrow. “That little box?”

“Yes.” Amira broke the wax seal with a knife from her belt and the box lid swung open on its squeaky hinges.

Inside, packed in peat moss lay five bars of honey-yellow, each one as wide and long as two of Amira’s fingers. Amira examined them a moment, confirming their size and weight.

Thadred and Daindreth had both seen far more wealth than this and didn’t seem too impressed. But in that moment, Amira held enough money in her hands to buy a carriage, coach, and team of the finest rounceys this side of the continent. It was more money than many people would possess in a lifetime.

If she had been alone, Amira could have found a way to travel to Lashera with less than one of these bars. With two companions and Thadred’s bad leg to consider, she couldn’t be quite so thrifty.

Instead of leaving the depository district, Amira led the two men across the street to another establishment full near to bursting. This depository was lined with many barred windows, a clerk behind each one speaking loudly to merchants, sailors, gentry, and farmers in all shapes, sizes, and statures.

Amira slipped out two of the gold bars and passed the box with the remaining three to Thadred. “Put this in your pack. Keep it safe.”

Thadred muttered something sarcastic that was lost in the noise and bustle of the depository, but he did as she asked.

Amira stepped inside and when she returned, she had three leather pouches jangling with smaller, less conspicuous coins. “Each of you take one,” she said. “You’ll be responsible for these.”

Amira paused as she handed off the pouches, eyes locking on a figure across the street. A boy, maybe no more than nine with a woolen cap, watched them with wide eyes. When he realized Amira had spotted him, he took off running.

Amira cursed, impulsively reaching for a knife, then stopped herself. He was a child.

“What?” Daindreth followed her gaze to the fleeing urchin.

“What is it?”

“The town’s agents will know we’re here, if they don’t know already. Let’s go.” Amira spun on her heel and marched swiftly back out of the street.

“That kid?” Thadred asked.

“Urchin on the law’s payroll,” Amira said. “They’re in every major city and port. Local magistrates use them to spot suspicious figures. They get bounties if their tips lead to arrests.”

Street sparrows was the common name for them. Urchins that were common and harmless as the birds but had a way of flying home to the nest and singing.

Amira could sense the skepticism in the two men, but they followed her, watching the streets and alleys as they passed.

“Could word have reached this far already?” Thadred asked. “Surely no messages from the palace could have gotten here before us?”

“This is Vesha we’re talking about,” Amira answered.

The empress and her agents had probably been able to deduce that the trio of fugitives left on a ship, or at least considered the possibility. If that were the case, Vesha would have every port and harbor on alert.

The assassin chewed her lip. Changing their appearance might be a good place to start, but they had neither the time nor the means to do that and keep moving.

Besides, Amira needed to be recognizable once they reached Lashera and then the Cursewood.

Careful to keep her voice down, Amira continued. “I expect the magistrate has a warrant for our arrests,” she said.

Three days was enough time for orders to reach here from Mynadra through the lattice of carrier pigeons, runners, and riders that the empire boasted as their communication network.

Their trio came out the other side of the side street. Amira led them across another street, down a few blocks, and up a sloped hill toward the towering outline of Baron Phaed’s manor.

“You seem to know where you’re going,” Thadred remarked. He kept pace with the other two impressively well, but the hard set of his jaw gave away his pain.

“We’re almost there,” Amira said.

“If I have to walk all the way to Lashera—”

Amira cut him off. “You won’t. Now let me handle this.”

She led them to a massive, converted warehouse. Straw and woodchips packed the floor and spilled into the street.

Amira wrinkled her nose at the stench of urine and manure. During this time of year, there shouldn’t be this much mud or so many standing puddles.

Stepping inside, Amira cast her eye over the rows of horses. Usually, she only needed one.

“Can I be helping you, young miss?” A square man with a slow, almost sluggish way of speaking and hands like bear paws straightened from inside one of the stalls.

“Three horses. Your best. We’ll be needing full harnesses, too.”

“My best?” The stablekeeper scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “That would be a mite costly.”

In Amira’s experience, one generally got what one paid for when it came to horses. “That sounds like my problem.” Amira resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder, but Thadred leaned casually on his good leg, staring back into the street with a bored expression.

Amira’s muscles unclenched a little at that. At least someone was watching their backs.

“Well. Let me show you what I have. Will you be the one buying?”

“Yes.” Amira looked to the two men. “Keep an eye out,” she said. “If you notice anything suspicious...” She gave them both a hard look.

“You expect trouble?” Daindreth asked.

“I’d rather expect it and be disappointed than not expect it and be surprised,” Amira responded. She moved past him to follow the stable keeper.

The man spoke, but she wasn’t listening, eyes flitting over the available horses as he did. She instantly spotted three she would have preferred, but the stable keeper quickly informed her that those belonged to a merchant and his apprentices who were in town.

Amira found three other animals that seemed serviceable. She then managed to talk the stable keeper down from his original asking price enough to cover the horses and their gear with what she had in her coin pouch.

She returned to Thadred and Daindreth close to a half hour later leading two horses and the stable keeper bringing up the rear with a third.

“You can choose between these,” Amira said, “but I think the dappled one will be best for you,” she added, gesturing to Thadred.

The knight looked over the larger horse and nodded his approval. The towering dappled grey gelding was far from a destrier, but had the height and girth to give Thadred a better advantage in the saddle—if they happened to run into trouble.

The other was a chestnut mare with a blaze down her forehead and large eyes that flickered to and fro. She’d be a handful, but Daindreth had a steady enough hand to keep her under control.

Once they agreed on who would be riding which horse, they lashed the animals to hitching posts and Amira began selecting their saddles and bridles. All the saddles showed some damage from the humidity, but several of the girths had warping at the edges. Amira refused all of those, impatience growing with every moment.

Finally, Amira and the stable keeper agreed on the goods, and they set to tacking up the horses.

For herself, Amira had chosen a bay mare. The horse was too small for either of the men to ride comfortably, almost a pony, but her small black hooves were sound and from the way she had stamped in her stall, she had a bit of fire.

Amira paid the stable keeper the agreed amount once they were tacked up, then glanced over to Thadred. “Looks like we’re waiting on you.”

Thadred shot her a glare as he finished cinching his horse’s girth. “Must be fun,” he cursed. “Being able to walk.”

Amira rolled her eyes. “Just—”

Her mare’s ears flicked, and motion caught Amira’s eye from the entrance of the stable. The next moment, she spotted dark figures with the lamp and eye stitched on their sleeves—the city watch.

Muttering every curse she knew, Amira did a quick head count. Eight of them. Damn it.

The assassin checked the dagger hidden under her cloak, mind whirring. Ka roiled in her hands, floating around her in golden streamers.

“Boys,” she said.

Thadred and Daindreth’s heads jerked up just as the entrance was blocked off.

“You three,” the leader said, pointing to Amira, Thadred, and Daindreth. “You are to surrender to the city guard immediately.”

“On what charge?” Daindreth asked, voice calm and untroubled as a summer breeze.

“Suspicion of treason,” the man answered, his thick leather glove closing around the glaive at his side.

Thadred carried on readying his horse as if nothing was wrong.

Amira loosened her dagger in its sheath, thinking. Ka wafted off the soldiers, steaming in the air around them. She wracked her brain for a useful spell, but in that moment, none came to mind.

There was so much ka in the air, but she didn’t even know how to begin making use of it.

“Leave,” Amira snarled at the stable keeper.

The man backed away, then turned and ran, in no hurry to get between the guards and their quarry.

Daindreth faced the soldiers, calm and collected. “We have committed no crimes,” he said. “We are law abiding travelers.”

For someone not used to bluffing away the law, Daindreth wasn’t doing half bad. “Our great-aunt recently passed away and we are traveling to settle her estate in Cadrene.”

There were too many of the soldiers for her to take them straight on, even with Daindreth and Thadred. Even if she thought she could drop all eight, it would cause a commotion and the entire city garrison would be crashing down on them before they knew it.

But there was the ka, drifting up and around the men in golden clouds. Amira focused and the ka collected into ribbons at her silent urging.

Brow furrowing with concentration, she began wrapping that ka around their heads in spools. She drew little circles in the air with one finger, mimicking the shape she wanted the ka to take. The motion didn’t command the ka, but it helped her focus.

Unable to see Amira’s spellwork, the leader was unimpressed. He didn’t even ask the usual questions to verify a story—where did you come from? How long will you stay? He didn’t even ask their names.

“I have orders to apprehend all three of you. Now you can come peacefully or—”

Amira chose or.

She yanked the strands of ka tight around the soldiers’ heads with a silent command. She hadn’t been sure what would happen, but the men seized in unison.

Several grabbed their heads, crying out. Two of them went down screaming, but the others remained on their feet.

“Sorcerer!” the leader yelled, stumbling back, glaive in hand. He jabbed for Daindreth.

The archduke dodged, jerking back out of reach. He was unarmed and the best he could hope to do was evade.

Amira made a fist of ka, coiling the latent energies in the air around her free hand like a length of rope. She locked the rest of the world out of her mind and focused. She was aware that she was losing awareness of her surroundings, making herself vulnerable, but she was committed now.

Amira spun the ball of ka tighter and tighter until it was a gigantic swirling ball to her eyes and let fly with a mental command.

The ball flew into the face of Daindreth’s attacker, blasting the man backward into the wall of the barn with a sickening snap. He fell to the ground without so much as a scream.

Amira gasped, suddenly feeling like the wind had been knocked out of her. She’d put too much into that spell.

Daindreth shot the briefest glance back to her, but she was already yelling for him to get on his horse.

Three of the men came for Thadred. The knight clenched his large horse’s reins and smacked his cane sword against the animal’s flank. The gelding swung his haunches sideways, knocking the guards out of the way. Thadred slapped the ends of the reins against the gelding’s chest and the horse jerked backwards, snorting and whinnying his annoyance.

The guards clenched their spears, eyeing Thadred testily, seeking an opening, but the knight kept his horse solidly between them.

In front of the gelding was a solid fence. The only way for the animal to go was backward. If any of them wanted to try spearing the horse, they’d risk getting a face full of hooves.

Amira dragged herself aboard her little bay mare, eyes on Daindreth at the front of the stable.

The man she’d hit with the ball of ka lay unmoving on the ground and another knelt beside him.

Two others including the leader still sprawled on the floor, groaning and clutching at their heads from Amira’s first attack. “Mount up!” Amira yelled, her breath coming in gasps.

Daindreth backtracked toward his chestnut, wisely keeping his face toward the guards. His chestnut mare pawed and whinnied. A mule in one of the stalls gave off a shrill cry and that sent them all into fits of squeals and squalls.

The stable keeper grabbed at the reins of Amira’s horse, trying to stop her, and got a boot to the face for that. The assassin swerved her horse toward the three guards holding off Thadred, still stonewalled by the large rump of his dappled grey.

“Mount up!” Amira repeated to Thadred.

The knight had no protests. He clambered aboard his horse with impressive agility, mostly using his arms to haul himself into the saddle. It was a bit awkward, but he quickly righted himself in the saddle.

Daindreth swung aboard his horse next, and Amira didn’t wait any longer. She dug her heels into her mare’s sides and quickly took the lead. Flattening herself against the horse’s neck, she burst onto the streets and steered her horse straight for the edge of Phaed.

The city watch was already scrambling after them, sounding the alarm. Phaed never had any real threats from the outside so there was no city gate or wall. Amira and the two men could flee in any direction except seaward.

Amira cast a glance backward to see most of the men upright, but the one she had lanced with a bolt of ka through his eye still lay on the ground. He wasn’t moving.

“This way!” Amira shouted, leading them off the main road and toward the thick forest that hedged in the city for miles around.

Thadred and Daindreth sped their horses after her and she quickly found an old wood trail she’d used once or twice before. The cushion of pine needles and the shadows provided by the trees would make for difficult tracking at best.

All the same, Amira kept them pressing on as fast as she dared. She continued until even the scent of Phaed’s chimneys faded on the breeze and all sign of the city was miles behind them.

They checked their horses into a trot. After a bit longer, Amira eased her horse into a halt and turned the mare partway to face Daindreth and Thadred.

“Are you two alright?” she asked, casting a cursory glance over Thadred and a longer one over Daindreth.

Forcing herself to breathe deep and slow, she fought to stop her spinning head. Though she wanted to learn what she could do with her magic now, it was something she needed to explore with caution. They’d been lucky, but she knew better than to drain herself of power like that. She needed to be controlled.

“Fine,” Thadred panted. He spared a moment to pat the neck of his gelding. “That’s a good boy,” he crooned.

“You killed that man,” Daindreth said. When she looked back at him, his face was pained, drawn. He held eye contact for a long heartbeat, then looked away.

“Probably,” was all Amira said, adding a shrug. She felt his disapproval like a claw raking down her back. “But he probably would have killed you.”

“They were just doing their jobs, Amira.” Daindreth’s voice was thick, heavy. “They had nothing to do with the empress for all we know.”

Amira’s bay mare chomped at the bit and jerked her head down. Amira had to adjust her grip on the mare’s reins to keep from being yanked out of the saddle. “You were fine with me killing men to break you out of the palace.”

“That was different. These people had nothing to do with Vesha or the cythraul.”

“And you mean to tell me every man I killed in Mynadra did?” Amira countered.

Daindreth bristled. “We can’t go taking the lives of people who are blameless.”

“Would you have preferred I let him stab you?”

“There has to be a better way!”

“There isn’t!” Amira’s voice rose to a shrill pitch and the horses shifted uneasily. “It’s either them or us and if you’re too stupid to have some common sense of self-preservation—”

“Innocent people don’t have to die.”

“People die every day,” Amira snorted. “Innocence has nothing to do with it.”

“This is war, Dain,” Thadred said, his voice a calm contrast to the bickering of the couple. “Innocent people will die. That’s the way of it.”

Both Amira and Daindreth shot a look to him.

The knight didn’t look directly at either of them, just studied his horse as it panted and shifted the bit in its mouth. “Amira did what she had to do to protect you. She’s no more guilty of murder than those fellows would’ve been if they’d killed us.”

“I never said murder,” Daindreth interjected.

“I know.” Thadred finally looked up. He inhaled a long breath. “So which way are we headed? Still that way?” He pointed up ahead.

“This way.” Amira nudged her mare with her heels and they continued on at a walk.

“Will those guards follow us?” Thadred asked.

“No,” Amira said. “They’re assigned to the city only. They’ll send word to the regional magistrates to be watching for strangers, though.”

So much for getting out of the city unnoticed. Best they put this fiefdom behind them as quickly as possible.

Daindreth didn’t berate her again, but didn’t apologize, either. Thadred remained silent and they rode on.

Amira held her tongue, but inside, annoyance knotted her thoughts. Daindreth needed to accept that saving his soul would come with a body count.

Chapter Two

Daindreth

Daindreth rubbed down his chestnut late that night by the light of the campfire. The horses chomped at the ferns around the bases of the trees, tails swishing contentedly. Thadred’s dapple had more trouble navigating between the trunks of the pines, but Amira’s small mare had already made short work of the greenery at her hooves.

At least the horses seemed to be eating well. Their riders had nothing except a few tubers Amira had dug up along the riverbank that evening. Daindreth’s stomach growled, and he glanced over at the campfire where Amira was crouched beside the flames, turning the tubers on a makeshift spit.

She brushed a stray strand of hair back from her face, leaving a streak of dirt across her cheek. He studied that single strand of hair as it tickled the side of her neck. He imagined winding it around his finger as the firelight brought out the copper and red in her hair, making it spark like embers. Several other strands had worked free of her braid and caught the fire’s glow, giving her a halo in the light of the flames.

His chestnut snorted, reminding him of his task. Daindreth finished cleaning the mud from her hooves as best he could before joining Amira.

She prodded at the flames with a stick, not looking at him for several long heartbeats. “I am a murderer, you know,” she said softly, still not looking up. “I’ve killed men over far less than that. Women, too.”

“I know,” Daindreth replied. How could he not know? She’d been her father’s assassin for years.

“Do you?” Her eyes met his, the reflected firelight making them glow like burning coals.

“You were under compulsion,” Daindreth said. “Your curse would have allowed nothing less.”

“I’m not so sure.” Amira shifted. “There were some I could have spared. A few witnesses I could have outrun or slipped past. But I didn’t, for one reason or another. I know I’ve maimed a few. Left men crippled for life.” Amira let those words hang in the air.

Daindreth didn’t know what to say to that. People from the lower classes who were maimed or crippled were often reduced to begging unless they had family willing to take them in. It would be a short and hard life.

“It’s not as if I could find them and find ways to make amends,” Amira said. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I didn’t know their names and sometimes I didn’t even know the names of whoever I was sent to kill.”

Daindreth had lived his whole life with the awareness that everything he said and did had implications for the empire. When he’d been eight, his tutors had dressed him in a cravat to hide a bee sting. The next day, all the boys in court had worn cravats.

Not long after Caa Iss had first begun to torment him, before he had reached his teens, he’d yelled at some seamstress’s apprentice. He didn’t even remember the reason now. The next day, he learned that the apprentice had been sacked and turned out into the streets for angering the archduke. Worse, the girl was an orphan and had nowhere else to go.

Daindreth had been wracked with guilt until Taylan was able to find the girl and secure her a job with another seamstress in the city. That had been a minor incident in the grand scheme of things, but every so often, Daindreth wondered how many lives he had accidentally ruined.

How many incidents like that had occurred without his knowledge? How many of his careless words and thoughtless gestures had been taken as commands?

Daindreth realized Amira was watching him, waiting for an answer. “None of us are without sin, my love,” he said. “And if you’ve forgotten, I’ve given you a full pardon.”

“Is there no justice in the world?” Amira whispered. “Will I be absolved just because the future emperor loves me?”

“Yes,” Daindreth said. “You’re absolved because the future emperor loves you.” He’d had this argument over Amira with Taylan and Thadred months ago. In his mind, it was already settled.

He’d tried to justify it many times over—that Amira had been under her curse, that she had to be as much a victim as her victims. But Taylan and Thadred had been able to poke holes in every argument he could think of. In the end, he’d decided that it was indeed unfair, and he didn’t care.

“Mercy by its nature is unjust.” Daindreth exhaled a long breath. “None of us is blameless. We’re all accomplices to some atrocity or another. It’s the way of the world.” He shook his head. “If justice, true justice, were to be given free rein in the world, we would all be doomed.”

“That sounds a bit nihilistic for you.” Amira’s nose crinkled.

“No,” Daindreth chuckled. “We do the best we can do, Amira. And hope that our actions will help more than they hurt.”

“So, hope for the best even as you do your worst?” Amira rolled her eyes, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders.

A cold wind whipped up from the north and Daindreth restrained a shiver. It seemed a bit cold for a summer night, but he hadn’t spent much time in these northern lands.

“Not quite,” Daindreth answered. “We try to help those we can, knowing all the while that we might have to hurt others to do it.”

Daindreth thought back to a dispute last summer from the eastern plains, a case that had made it all the way to Mynadra for an imperial ruling. A coalition of seventy or so farming families wanted to redirect a river to irrigate their crops as they claimed was their right under the imperial charter given to their town more than eighty years ago.

Unfortunately, a logging community downstream relied on the river to move their product—something they were also allowed to do by an imperial edict, though theirs was newer—and redirecting the river would make it too shallow for their uses.

In the end, Daindreth had allowed the river to be redirected. That had meant a thousand new acres of arable farmland, but it had also meant he destroyed the livelihoods of the estimated three thousand people along the river who relied on the logging trade.

Was that justice? No doubt the loggers felt that they had been wronged and perhaps they were right.

But the farmers had the right to that water and the empire needed grain more than it needed lumber.

The archduke could think of a dozen cases like that off the top of his head. Cases where there had been no clear definition of right or wrong. Cases where it had always felt that someone would go away cheated or at least believing that they had been.

Since his mother had begun having him sit in judgment at court, he had come to believe that the rulers who were universally loved, if any actually had been, must have done very little in their lifetimes. In his experience, everything he did made someone somewhere hate him.

Or perhaps rulers were only loved after they were dead and people no longer had to contend with their less popular decisions. Either way, if the measure of a ruler was what the people thought of them, that was truly frightening.

Amira hugged her legs to her chest, resting her chin atop her knees. She watched the tubers roast over the fire, those sparking eyes absent as she gazed into the flames.

Daindreth wrapped an arm around her and tugged her against his side. She remained stiff at first, seeming surprised.

He kissed the top of her head and she relaxed, her body melding closer alongside him. She smelled of the road and a bit of sea salt, but he could still catch some of the Mynadran perfume in her hair. He might have imagined it, but whatever it was, he breathed it in, savoring her closeness. He rubbed her back, tugging her nearer.

Amira touched his chest, and he folded a hand over hers, pressing her fingers against his heart. She straightened then, moving so that she could look him in the eye. For a long moment, they stayed like that.

Amira’s eyes darkened and wandered down his face. Her breath quickened and Daindreth felt his own heart patter just a little faster under her palm.

Daindreth broke first. He closed the distance and brushed his lips over hers.

Amira returned his kiss eagerly, her free hand cradling the side of his face. Her fingers played lightly along his chest, tugging at the ties of his linen shirt, but not quite untying them. There was something both sweetly innocent and devilishly wicked in her touch and it made Daindreth’s heart pound.

Daindreth kissed her deeper as she pressed against him. She was soft and yielding in his arms, and it would have been easy, so easy, to roll her under him and start freeing them both from these clothes, but he couldn’t.

Couldn’t.

“Amira.” His voice came out hoarse, cracking with the effort. Daindreth put his hands on her shoulders, pushing a breath of space between them. “Not yet,” he panted. “Not yet.”

Hurt flashed across her face for just a moment before she pulled away from him. She drew her cloak around her like a shell, cutting herself off from him.

The absence of her left him with a sense of loss, an ache that made him regret pushing her away. Daindreth was playing with fire every time he kissed her, he knew that.

It was dangerous how much he wanted her. He wanted her warmth and touch. Her passion and pleasure. Her moans and sighs. He wanted it all with her—but only for himself.

Caa Iss still haunted the back corners of his mind. It was easy to forget, with the demon bottled away for so many days, but the cythraul was still there—and he saw everything, felt everything.

Daindreth wasn’t about to share Amira with anyone, least of all that creature. But that wasn’t his only worry.

What if he couldn’t contain the demon? What if, in a moment of ecstasy, he lost control? Amira suppressed Caa Iss, but Daindreth had no way of knowing what would happen. All Daindreth knew was that when Caa Iss inhabited his father, the emperor had lost control while with his wife. Though Daindreth had never been told for sure, he was fairly certain his parents had been making love at the time. Caa Iss had nearly killed Daindreth’s mother when it happened.

Daindreth raked a hand through his hair. He couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t. So long as Caa Iss crouched in the corners of Daindreth’s skull, he couldn’t bed Amira.

“I swear this whole forest is soaked,” Thadred grumbled, shoving his way out of the trees. “Only good kindling is wet and what isn’t wet is too small to be of any real use.” The knight dropped a pile of sticks and logs by the fire.

“I told you, you didn’t have to do that,” Amira clipped, her voice a little sharper than usual.

Thadred waved her off. “I might not be a skilled woodsman or criminal mastermind like you, but I can gather sticks for a damned fire,” he muttered.

Amira kicked at the edges of the flames, hunched low with her cloak tight around her shoulders.

Thadred eased down across from them, cursing his bad leg.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” Daindreth said. “You could have cared for the horses.”

“On that ground?” Thadred pointed to where the horses were tied. It had plenty of ferns and other forage, but the roots of an oak tree had created grooves and notches like a toad’s skin. “Horse makes one quick move, I trip and get slammed to the ground, and then we’ll have bigger problems.”

Amira prodded at the tubers over the fire, not responding.

“How far from here to Lashera?” Thadred asked.

“Not far,” Amira answered. “Three days. Two if we don’t have to hide from any patrols along the way.”

“Do you think magistrates are looking for us?”

“Definitely.” Amira pulled her legs against her chest again. “We most likely killed a soldier back there.” She studied the flames, not looking at Thadred or Daindreth.

“You mean you killed a soldier.”

Daindreth winced at his cousin’s words, but they were true enough.

“Yes,” Amira said, her voice flat as a frozen lake.

“Is there a plan for once we get to Hylendale?”

“We’re in Hylendale.” Amira began stripping the fronds from the stem of a fern. “All the land from here to the mountains belongs to my father.”

“We can’t use this to our advantage somehow?” Thadred asked.

“We are,” Amira said. “In case you didn’t understand what happened back there. I used my father’s gold to buy our horses.”

“You can’t get any more help from his vassals or the local baronies?”

Daindreth looked to Amira at his cousin’s question. “Well. Can we?”

Amira let a breath out her nose. “My father tried to have you killed.” She cast Daindreth a sardonic look. She was upset about him pushing her away just now, he was sure of it.

Guilt pulled at his chest. He was rejecting her because he didn’t want to hurt her, but rejecting her was hurting her anyway. It felt like another no-win situation, just like the loggers and the farmers.

Gods, he needed to be free of this demon. He’d never been anything less than desperate to be rid of it, but now with it getting between him and this woman—

“He’ll turn on us?” Thadred asked, toying with the head of his cane sword, then drawing it to examine the blade. Daindreth wasn’t sure what he planned to do with it, but Thadred had a habit of inventorying his possessions when he was anxious.

Amira let a breath out her nose. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Daindreth thought back on what little he knew of King Hyle—his future father-in-law. Hyle had been one of the few kings to bow to Erymaya without a fight, surrendering to Daindreth’s father, Drystan, not long after he learned of the emperor’s designs on the north.

It had been riskier than many gave Hyle credit for—he’d pledged his allegiance at a time when Hylendale was still surrounded by free countries in open war with the empire. They had all counted him as a traitor and a coward. That included the independent clan of sorceresses within the borders of the country—the Istovari.

Emperor Drystan had required all sorcerers to take a Kadra’han’s vows to him, be banished, or slain. The Istovari, like many other sorcerer clans, had not approved. Like the many other clans, they had paid in blood.

But King Hyle was a pragmatic man. He chose his enemies wisely.

He might have tried to stop the marriage of his youngest daughter to a demon-infested prince, but not without risking his eldest, Amira. When that had failed, Hyle had also been willing to give first Fonra and then Amira over to a cursed man for the sake of his kingdom.

Hyle would go with whoever he thought the most powerful and the most likely to win. Daindreth thought of his mother and the undisputed power she had wielded as his regent since the death of his father.

No one doubted her hold on the empire. No one doubted her power.

“He’ll turn us over to the empire if he gets the chance, won’t he?” Daindreth asked quietly.

Amira nodded, tossing the fern stem into the fire.

“Bastard,” Thadred muttered. It was an ironic curse for Thadred to use, but neither of the other two said anything.

Amira didn’t respond to the insult to her father. Daindreth had a feeling she’d called the man worse and probably to his face. “My father will know where we can find the sorceresses,” she said. “We need information from him regardless.”

Daindreth glanced to Thadred. “You have a plan for that?”

She paused, watching the popping flames. “I’m working on one.”

Daindreth scratched at the stubble on his cheek. He hadn’t shaved since Mynadra. It made him feel scruffy and unkempt, but perhaps he should grow a beard to blend in. Most of the northern men grew beards.

“Can’t ask more than that,” Thadred said. “But I don’t suppose we could find them ourselves? They’re in a forest, right? The Cursewood?”

Amira shook her head with a tired, longsuffering look. “It’s not that simple.”

“What do you mean?” Thadred pressed.

Daindreth had a feeling they’d been over this before. The three of them had talked for hours onboard the ship with little else to do.

“It changes,” Amira answered. “The forest moves. Maps are no good there. Hopefully my father’s agents will know the secrets of how to find the Istovari inside.”

Thadred was quiet for a moment. “You’re still sure your mothers won’t try blasting us on sight?” he asked. “What with you being engaged to their sworn enemy and all?”

Amira shrugged. “I can be persuasive.”

Daindreth didn’t like that answer. Amira was powerful, true. But her clan had been one of the larger ones, rumored to have two hundred sorceresses or more even after the battle that had decimated their numbers and forced them to flee into the wilderness.

Daindreth looked up to the sky. Outside the halo of the fire’s light, the darkness sparked with a sea of diamonds. It looked like a poem, he thought, or the beginning of one.

For years, Daindreth had scribbled words on parchment, trying to untangle his own thoughts from the demon’s. Sometimes what he spilled onto paper horrified him and he had burned the papers before anyone could see.

Ever since Amira had come into his life, the words had changed. When he had sat down to write after those first few weeks with the alien sound of silence in his head, he’d found himself writing about her.

Amira shifted, leaning closer to the fire, and her hair fell around her face like threads of flame.

She’d been his muse for months and never known it. Back in Mynadra, he had written stacks of poems about her, sometimes without even knowing it until after he went back and read what he wrote.

Even dirty from the road in the breeches and leather coat of a rover, she was lovely. So lovely.

He thought of lying down with Amira on a bed of grass under a blanket of stars, of holding her somewhere so silent it felt they were alone in the world. That seemed like poetry to him. Living poetry.

Amira let off a huff that interrupted his train of thought. “Well,” she said, prodding at the tubers over the fire with a stick, “I hope you’re hungry. Because this is going to taste like dirt.” She speared one of the smaller tubers and handed the stick to Daindreth. “Let it cool a bit before you bite into it.”

She passed another to Thadred before taking one for herself.

“The smaller ones should be done.”

Thadred shrugged, studying the roasted root in front of him. “I would like to be manly and say I’ve eaten worse, but I honestly don’t think I have.”

Amira laughed at that, a gold, chiming sound like brass bells. “So coddled, both of you.”

Thadred pointed at her with his cane sword. “I’ll have you know I am no stranger to hardship after sharing a ship’s cabin with the likes of you for three nights.”

Amira snorted, unimpressed.

“And living with that one my whole life,” Thadred added, pointing to Daindreth.

“He is a harsh master, isn’t he?” Amira said with a shake of her head. “So demanding.”

“And cruel,” Thadred added. For all his complaining, he took a bite of the tuber and choked it down. “You don’t know how lucky you are,” Thadred said, gesturing to Amira. “You didn’t know him when we were children.”

At Daindreth’s side, Amira picked gingerly at her roasted root, breaking off pieces and nibbling at them. “Was he quite a prat then?”

“You have no idea. Has he ever mentioned the polecat story?”

“Thadred,” Daindreth groaned.

“No,” Amira replied, perking with interest. “Do tell.”

Daindreth cast Thadred a tired look. “Please, I beg you,” he said in a flat tone.

“If she’s marrying you, she should know what she’s in for.” Thadred cleared his throat. “We were about eight and nine at the time.”

Daindreth took a bite of his own tuber. It was piping hot and grainy, reminding him of a potato. There was a vague aftertaste he didn’t quite recognize, but he gulped it down all the same. He’d often heard that hunger was the best seasoning, and he was finding that true.

Thadred went on. “We were visiting the imperial estate in the country for the summer. One of the nurses mentioned that they’d had problems with cats disappearing on the estate thanks to hawks.”

Amira raised one brow. “Oh?”

“Yes. Well, a few days later, we were exploring the grounds as boys will do, when we found an ugly cat trapped in one of the henhouses.”

“Oh no,” Amira said, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Sure, it was a bit long and short legged, but what did we know?” Thadred shrugged. “Dain decides we need to try and catch it to get it back in the manor house.”

Daindreth’s cousin went on, telling the story of how they had caught the weasel with a bucket after chasing it around the coop for an hour and terrifying the chickens.

“Our governess found us covered head to foot in chicken shit and blood from the scratches on our arms.”

“But we caught the weasel,” Daindreth interrupted.

“That we did.” Thadred laughed. “We had to convince the groundskeeper to let it go into the woods instead of killing it. First time I ever heard Dain give an imperial order.”

Amira grinned at him. “You ordered them to release the weasel in the name of the empire?”

Daindreth nodded. “And the gods that granted me the crown.”

Amira laughed again and Thadred joined in. They were joking together—the two people he cared for most in the world appeared to finally be done tearing at each other’s throats. He hadn’t realized how much their animosity troubled him until now. To see them getting along meant far more than he had thought it would.

Amira touched Daindreth’s arm. She did it stiffly, awkwardly, but he hoped that meant she forgave him. That she understood why he was pushing her away.

Thadred began recounting how their governess made them strip naked and bathe in a water trough before going back indoors and Amira laughed again.

Daindreth laughed with them and realized he was happy.

For the first time in a long time, he was happy.

♦♦♦

Daindreth knew it was a dream right away.

He stood in the middle of a burning field, if it could be called that. Black basalt stretched as far as his eyes could see and red veins cracked up between the stones.

He glanced down to himself, dressed in a black brocade coat and the high black boots of court. It was as fine as anything he had ever worn to a state dinner—the clothing of an emperor.

There had been times when he had been a child, in the early days of his possession, when the demon had chased him around these burning plains. It had swooped and dived and clawed and called out promises of tortures Daindreth had been too young to understand.

As he’d reached his teens, he would sometimes go looking for the cythraul to get their conversation over with. Caa Iss had evaded him for days once—time moved differently in dreams.

Now, Daindreth stood and waited. If Caa Iss had pulled him into a dream, Caa Iss wanted to talk. If Caa Iss wanted to talk, he could come to Daindreth.

Sure enough, he didn’t have to wait long.

“Hello, archduke.”

Daindreth turned to face a bulky shape of flame and shadow—a towering figure with wings and curling horns bending back close to its head. Veins of crimson glinted beneath his ashen skin.

For a few moments, Caa Iss’s shape flickered between two forms—one the fine boned features of a young man, the other a cythraul’s toothy, knobby mask. Then he settled into the form of the demon.

“You think to cast me out?” the demon demanded.

Daindreth had not spoken to Caa Iss since the night of the ritual, when the cythraul had possessed him fully and Amira had beaten the creature back. A part of him had hoped Amira’s bond was strong enough even to protect him in his dreams, but it seemed that even her power was limited.

“I’d thought you would still be licking your wounds,” Daindreth said, examining the buttons on one of his cuffs. “Amira gave you quite a beating.”

Caa Iss snarled. “I am not your enemy. Nor hers.”

“You are,” Daindreth answered calmly. “And you will never be anything else.”

“You need me as much as I need you.”

“I need you as much as a stag needs a tick.”

Caa Iss let off a great belch of smoke from his nostrils, wings shuffling behind him. “You have no idea the consequences of your actions.”

Daindreth folded his arms across his chest. “Are you going to punish me?”

Caa Iss couldn’t touch him in these dreams. At least, he had never been able to before. But he could send fire. He could send stones and rocks and the sensation of drowning. He could send torment.

“Your empire is held together by my mother!” Caa Iss snarled. “By my brothers and sisters and their aid. If you refuse to keep your end—”

“I made no deals with that bitch!” Daindreth shouted back.

“Your mother did,” Caa Iss reminded him, burning spittle hissing from between fangs. “Your bride’s mothers did.”

Daindreth watched the demon, chin up.

“I could make you great, Daindreth. As my mother has made yours great.”

Daindreth folded his arms across his chest. “Are we done here?”

Caa Iss snarled. “You don’t know what you’re doing, boy.” He shifted, wings shuffling.

The archduke surveyed him, eyes narrowing. He hadn’t seen Caa Iss quite this agitated before. Something troubled the demon.

“You know your time is up, don’t you?” Daindreth asked. “You know you’re going home soon.”

Caa Iss gnashed his teeth. “I will be free of the Dread Marches with or without your pathetic meat clothes.”

“Then it makes no difference for you, does it?” Daindreth clipped back, not believing a word. “Your time with me is up and you know it.”

Caa Iss roared at the sky. He strung together sounds that rumbled and skipped and might have been words, but they held no meaning for Daindreth.

“I’m sending you back to where you came from,” Daindreth spat back. “All of you. I’d rather see my empire in pieces than ruled by cythraul.”

Caa Iss bit at the air, like a dog snapping at invisible flies. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“I mean it,” Daindreth said.

“You have no idea the price you are about to pay,” Caa Iss snarled.

Daindreth’s chest tightened at that and instantly his mind went to Amira. But no, the demon couldn’t hurt her in this state. If he could, he would have done it already.

“No.” Caa Iss’s voice changed timbre, dropping to almost a purr. “No, it won’t be you that pays the price at all.”

“You don’t get them,” Daindreth growled, facing down the cythraul. “Whoever they are, I won’t let you near them.”

“Stupid boy! You were ready to surrender a few days ago. Has that woman of yours made you so much of a man?”

“You don’t get her, either,” Daindreth shot back. “Not her, not Thadred, not my people, not me.”

“You damn them all!”

“Damn you!” Daindreth yelled back. “Damn you back to the hellscape you came from!”

Caa Iss charged him, swiping with black talons.

Daindreth didn’t move. He stayed planted to the spot and glared straight into the demon’s eyes as the cythraul’s talons tore through his chest—but he felt nothing.

Then he was breathing in the cold mountain air. The burning plains of basalt were gone and so was the demon.

Overhead, the pine trees reached for the sky and the stars glittered like crystal. The air was crisp and cold as a woodland bird chirped from somewhere in the distance.

Daindreth lay still for a moment, breathing deeply to slow his racing heart.

Every time the cythraul tried to touch him in his dreams, Daindreth woke up. He still checked his chest, assuring himself that there were no scars or claw marks.

Settling back down, Daindreth listening to the even breathing of Thadred and Amira.

His cousin laid across the smoldering fire, flat on his back. Thadred had always slept straight and rigid, like he was sleeping in a barracks.

Amira laid a few steps away from Daindreth, curled on her side with her messy braid draped over her shoulder.

Daindreth listened to them both breathing for a long time after that. This was his reality—the silence in his mind and the peace of the forest around them.

These two people were more precious to him that anything in the world and they were safe, unhurt, and with him. If he wanted to keep them that way, Caa Iss had to go.

The demon might threaten retaliation, but Daindreth would rather fight a war with the Dread Marches than try to make them his allies.

He stared up at the night sky for a long time after that, unable to fall back to sleep. He thought for just a moment that he saw a winged shape blot out the stars, but then it was gone.

Chapter Three

Amira

By the time the three of them reached a village along a tributary of the Cerin River, Amira felt as if her stomach were gnawing a hole to her spine.

She’d gone hungry before. Once, during her training, she’d been left blindfolded with her hands tied in the forests and told to find her way home or be food for the tigers. No one had seen tigers in that forest for generations, but it had still been quite motivational to an imaginative teen. Amira had wandered through the forests for three days before returning bedraggled, bloody, bruised, and hungrier than she’d been in her whole life.

Riding all day on nothing but tubers wasn’t as bad, but Amira still thought of those times as she reined in her horse outside a circle of cottages near nightfall. The houses were low piles of rock with thatched roofs and low stone fences around their perimeters.

The few people in the town were in drab woolen clothes that matched the stones. Large eyes peered at them from curious faces.

Amira kept her hood up and let Daindreth lead. She’d come through this town more than once, but never with anyone else and always in disguise. Still, best not to risk being recognized.

“That one,” Amira said to Daindreth as they entered the village boundaries. “The one with the geese out front.”

Daindreth turned his horse in that direction, keeping to a slow walk.

The house Amira had pointed out was the largest with several chickens and geese roaming in the front yard. There was no shortage of children, either, and little ones of all ages splashed in the mud and chased one another with clods of earth. They sent chickens scattering in their wake and only their laughter drowned out the birds’ outraged squawking. The children steered clear of the geese grazing on the other side of the yard.

Daindreth called to the children and one of them scurried off while the rest pointed, stared, and whispered between each other. The archduke dismounted his horse and passed the reins to Amira.

In a few moments, a lean woman appeared in the doorway of the cottage, wiping her hands on her apron. “What brings you here, strangers?”

“Greetings, goodwife,” Daindreth said with a slight incline of his head. “My friends and I are passing through and hoped you might have some food to spare.”

The woman looked them over, scrutinizing the three riders. “You’ve got coin?”

“Of course,” Daindreth said.

The goodwife waved him forward. “Aye, we might have some to spare. You can come in. Your friends wait out here.”

Amira clenched her jaw as Daindreth followed the stranger into the cottage. There was no reason to think this woman might be a threat, but Amira found herself reaching for ka.

As best she could tell, there were one or two other people already within the cottage, probably a grandmother or other village women. Those ka sources didn’t move. Only the sources she knew to be Daindreth and the village woman appeared to be moving.

The few children kept behind the low rock wall around the cottage, peering up at Amira and Thadred, gesturing to them and their horses. A village like this might have a few donkeys and oxen, but horses would only be brought by outsiders.

From around them, Amira was aware of curious eyes peering out of the other cottages. Travelers weren’t unusual in these parts, but a woman alone with two men might be memorable. Amira would have liked to avoid that, but none of the three had wanted to split their group long enough for one of them to fetch provisions.

Minutes ticked by and the cold rain seeped through Amira’s coat to slick her skin. Her little bay mare snorted and stomped, eager to be moving again. The small horse had impressive stamina.

“You sure about this?” Thadred asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Amira quietly replied, keeping her hood up.

They’d reviewed this plan several times over. Amira had liked it no less than Thadred, though it had been her idea.

Daindreth was the least incongruous out of the three of them. Amira was a woman and proper women didn’t do the talking to strangers when men were with them. Thadred’s limp would give them away too easily. Then again, the children were already staring. Perhaps they should have just accepted memorability as inevitable.

Daindreth reappeared a few minutes later with a sack slung over one shoulder. The goodwife followed him to the door, one hand clutching a handful of coins as she watched Daindreth go.

From the number of coins in the woman’s hand, Amira could tell Daindreth had been quite generous and her jaw tightened in annoyance. Daindreth secured the sack of provisions to the back of his saddle before swinging up onto his horse’s back.

He waved a farewell to those inside the fence. The goodwife offered a single wave and the children hesitantly followed suit.

Amira hadn’t been sure how Daindreth would handle that interaction, but it seemed to have gone well. She surveyed the village before nudging her horse after Daindreth and his rouncey.

Her little mare’s hooves squelched in the mud. Amira just hoped their horses wouldn’t get hoofrot from standing in this muck for days on end.

It had rained and rained since the morning. Thunder crackled in the distance and Amira frowned.

This weather was odd for summer in Hylendale. The occasional summer storm wasn’t unheard of, but rain usually came in the spring and autumn.

Their group continued on, riding past the village’s carefully planned rows of cabbages, carrots, squashes, and other crops. It looked like a good crop, or would be by harvest time.

Riding up into the forested hills, deeper and deeper, they reached a crest in the trail and the horses continued up. Pine needles lined the floor, lessening the mud, but the horses still had to move carefully so as not to slip.

They passed a gaggle of shepherds, crouched below trees as their sheep grazed the wet grass, seeming unbothered. The shepherds peered out at them from under oiled leather hoods. A few sheepdogs barked and leapt up to give chase, but their masters called them back, content to let the riders slip past unbothered.

Amira pulled her wet cowl higher over her head, cursing the weather. This damned rain was slowing them down, but at least it would also be slowing down anyone on their trail.

“We should keep moving,” Amira said, kicking her mare to take the lead again. “There are cliffs up that way.” She pointed to where the trail diverged, the narrower path snaking upward. “We should find some shelter under the rocks.”

Neither of the men protested as she steered her little mare up the cliff face toward the jutting peaks. Thadred’s gelding let off a low whicker but followed.

Amira felt out sources of ka, sensing the squirrels in their nests overhead, the rodents huddled in their burrows, and the ever-present smog of golden energy that permeated all forests. Nothing bigger than a grouse was in their immediate area.

They rode up for what seemed close to an hour. The path twisted and doubled back in places, but Amira kept them on it. If nothing else, this would throw a few kinks in their trail for anyone who might be hunting them. Daindreth and Thadred continued on without complaint, crouched low over their horses’ necks.

The trees thinned and a high cliff appeared over their heads. A rocky ledge jutted out, forming a natural shelter. No sooner had Amira taken in the sight than a burst of motion exploded from beneath the outcrop.

Amira’s mare whinnied and rocked back on her haunches. “Whoa!” Amira reined in her mare as the animal tried to bolt, hooves sliding and skidding on the soft ground. “Easy, girl. Easy.”

Dozens of deer bounded into the forest with their tails up. They scattered like leaves on the wind, leaping into the trees with wild, reckless abandon.

“Easy.” Amira patted the neck of her mare as the little horse’s nostrils flared, watching the herd flee. “Easy.”

Her mare stomped and shifted, wide eyes on the deer. Behind them, Daindreth and Thadred’s horses whinnied their protests, too.

Amira’s mare chomped at the bit and stomped. One of her hooves slipped and shot out. The mare slid, her whole body jerking forward.

Amira tumbled over the mare’s neck and hit the ground with a thud.

“Amira!” Daindreth shouted.

Groaning, she kept a tight grip on her reins as her mare jerked back. Amira skidded several steps, dragged by her horse, before her mare regained her balance and stood still. Nostrils flaring, the mare’s eyes followed where the deer had fled. The little horse kept her neck rigid, legs splayed awkwardly for balance.

“Easy,” Amira muttered, wincing at a new bruise along her lower back. “Easy, girl.”

“Are you alright?” Daindreth swung down from his own horse and shoved the reins to Thadred, keeping space between himself and Amira’s agitated animal.

“Fine.” Amira rose carefully, not taking her eyes off her spooked animal. “Just fine.”

Daindreth made it to her and helped her to stand. “Are you sure?”

“Fine,” Amira nodded. “A little winded, is all. Come on.” She stepped backward, leading her mare forward in the direction of the cliff. “We should be able to wait out the storm.”

Daindreth reclaimed his horse from Thadred, and the knight dismounted, too. The animals kept watching the forest where the deer had vanished, but none of them spooked again.

“Pity we didn’t find those earlier,” Thadred remarked. “I could have done with a bit of venison.”

“Those deer belong to King Hyle,” Amira reminded him. “And the king’s marshals don’t take kindly to poachers.”

“Is it poaching if you’re the rightful emperor?” Thadred asked, looking to Daindreth.

Amira rolled her eyes at him. “You want to try telling them that when we’re caught?”

They already had Vesha, the empire’s agents, and possibly every constable within twenty leagues looking for them. The last thing they needed was poaching charges on top of treason and resisting arrest.

The rocky outcrop afforded them some shelter even if the ground was strewn with deer droppings. They found a cleaner patch of ground and drew up in a circle.

The horses shook themselves dry and flicked their ears, nosing at the ground and nickering to each other.

“Not so bad, is it?” Daindreth said to his mare, patting her neck.

They tied the horses near the back and sat a few paces away. Thadred leaned against the wall and Amira took up a place cross-legged beside him while Daindreth retrieved the sack he’d purchased from the village.

Amira gestured for Daindreth to pass her the sack and she inspected the contents, thinking. “That should last us two days.”

Perhaps Daindreth hadn’t overpaid as much as she’d thought. Amira measured out portions as the rain came down harder.

Cheese, hard bread, and smoked mutton had never tasted so good. The three of them ate in silence as the storm raged outside, darkening the sky. Lightning crashed from somewhere out of sight, shaking the stones and making the horses whinny in fright.

Amira frowned, looking outside.

“Quite a storm!” Thadred shouted over the rain.

Amira shook her head, mouth full of cheese. She supposed that was just their luck to have freakish weather.

“Maybe we should have seen about borrowing someone’s barn back in that village,” Thadred muttered.

Amira shook her head. “The longer we stayed in the village, the more stories would spread.” No need to make it easy on their hunters.

“Stories won’t be spreading anywhere if this storm doesn’t let up,” Thadred shot back. “Who could travel in this weather?”

Outside the cave, the storm turned into a squall. Trees swayed and torrents of rain fell in curtains.

“Thadred.” Amira peeled the last of the wax rind from her cheese wedge. “How much Kadra’han training did you get?”

Thadred raised one eyebrow. “Enough. Why do you ask?”

“Were you trained in Kelamora or by knights and soldiers?” Amira flicked the cheese wax across the cave. Just speaking the name of the Kadra’han school left an odd taste in her mouth. Her summer there seemed a lifetime ago.

Thadred adjusted his position on the ground. “Knights and soldiers.”

“We had the same tutors,” Daindreth replied.

“Hmm.” Amira broke her cheese wedge into smaller pieces, nibbling at them individually.

She’d fought with Daindreth the first night they’d met, but that had been the demon taking over his body to defend itself. More recently, she’d sparred with him a few times. She’d noticed the militaristic, ordered manner of his fighting style—suited for a battlefield with soldiers and knights on either side of him. Less suited for fighting off assassins in the night.

Amira glanced between the two men, thinking. “Did Darrigan train you?” She addressed the question to Thadred.

“A bit,” the knight replied. It wasn’t like Thadred to be embarrassed or uncomfortable, but her questions made him squirm. “He taught me about our curse. A bit about how to use it. How to watch a room. That sort of thing.”

Amira’s brow furrowed, thinking.

“Why?” Thadred pressed.

“So you never went to Kelamora at all?”

Thadred was quiet for a moment. “Once. For about three weeks.”

Daindreth glanced between the two of them.

Amira waited, watching Thadred.

“I roughhoused with swords, spears, and staves.” Thadred shrugged. “Failed miserably at anything involving ka.” The abrupt sound to the last word told Amira that his time in Kelamora wasn’t something he wanted to discuss.

Amira nodded, thinking. “You can’t use ka at all?”

“No,” Thadred clipped. “I’m not a sorcerer. I don’t even know how to...feel it? Sense it? I have no idea how to even find it.”

Amira wasn’t convinced. Thadred was a Kadra’han. The cruel trick of the Kadra’han was that they were under curses, but they could only be cursed by themselves.

A Kadra’han’s vows bound them to their liege lord in exchange for potentially limitless power—the better a Kadra’han served, the stronger they became. But the price was their freedom.

Amira had broken her curse. She was no longer under compulsion to obey Daindreth, but she still felt her power growing even now.

“What’s Kelamora?” Daindreth asked.

Amira looked to Thadred, but the knight looked back to her. She took a deep breath. “It’s a...” She paused, searching for the right world. “An academy of sorts. The last remaining collegium for sorcerers.”

Daindreth looked to Thadred. “You never mentioned it.”

“I’ve never mentioned a lot of things that happened when I was away,” Thadred said.

“Away?” Amira frowned, looking to the knight.

Thadred tried to shrug it off. “I spent a year or two in the field with the army.”

Amira had always assumed that Thadred had spent his whole life at Daindreth’s side. He certainly didn’t act like a battle-hardened man, but this wouldn’t be the first time she had misjudged him. She cleared her throat.

“Anyway,” Amira went on, “Kelamora used to be a temple, but then it became a collegium and now it’s...” She looked to Thadred. How could she explain it?

“They train Kadra’han there,” Thadred said. “It’s all they do.”

Amira nodded.

“For the empire?” Daindreth asked, leaning forward.

“For anyone,” Amira answered. “If you’re rich enough, you can have your Kadra’han trained there. They also buy children from all over, boys, mostly. They train them to be bodyguards and teach them sorcery before having them take their vows to the highest bidder.”

“You trained at Kelamora,” Daindreth said softly. It wasn’t a question.

“I spent a summer there when I was sixteen,” Amira confirmed. “It’s the last place in the world where you can study magic.”

Emperor Drystan had been nothing if not thorough, though in truth he had only finished what had already begun. Sorcerers and sorceresses had been on the decline for generations. The common folk feared them and only nobles were arrogant enough to fraternize with them. They were dangerous and most of them had been women, something that made them doubly terrifying to many.

“It’s in Nihain,” Amira added. “So, I suspect that’s why it was tolerated.”

Nihain was the country Vesha had come from. The empress was the daughter of an Erymayan nobleman who had married a Nihai heiress. Since then, the country had never been formally conquered, but many said that the Erymayan ambassador there was more of a governor. He certainly wielded more power than a foreign dignitary should.

Daindreth nodded, contemplative. “It would also explain why so many of Vesha’s Kadra’han are foreigners. Does Kelamora make their students swear allegiance to her?”

“No,” Amira said confidently. “Vesha doesn’t seem to have known about me.” For whatever reason, Darrigan and Vesha’s other Kadra’han had kept the secret of Amira’s existence, but the assassin doubted that the entire collegium would have kept the secret if they owed the empress allegiance. Amira turned her attention back to Thadred. “You’re a sorcerer,” she said flatly. “You couldn’t be a Kadra’han if you weren’t.” She bit into the bread next. The flour was grainy with bits of rock from the millstone, but Amira was hungry enough not to care.

“I told you before,” Thadred said, stiffening, “I had the magic to make the vows stick, but I can’t sense ka.”

“Heard you the first time.” Amira frowned, thinking. She glanced to Thadred’s bad leg.

Since she’d gained her new level of power, she’d noticed ka constantly streaming from his body into the signet ring he wore. It congealed around his hip and upper thigh, too. When he had been younger, a fall from a horse had crushed his left side, shattering that part of his hip joint. From everything Amira had heard, the injury should have been fatal.

Thadred had been permanently maimed, but he had lived. He could also still ride and joust, not to mention that he seemed to find his way around a bedroom well enough. His exploits of seduction were legendary.

Magic was the only explanation for that. But even if her theory was correct and Thadred had woven spells around his injury without even knowing it, that didn’t help them. If Thadred couldn’t sense ka, if he couldn’t see what he was channeling or where, she couldn’t teach him.

Amira glanced to Daindreth next. “Do you fight free handed?”

“What?” The archduke cast her a puzzled look.

“Without weapons,” Amira explained. “And without Caa Iss.”

Daindreth had been unarmed the night they’d met, but that hadn’t been him fighting. “A little,” Daindreth said.

Amira inhaled. “We’ll have to practice that more.” She pushed back her hair, wet and sticking to her neck.

“What made you suddenly decide our skills are lacking?” Thadred clipped.

Amira looked to the mouth of the cave and the pouring rain outside. “Darrigan told me that Vesha had Kadra’han even outside the palace.”

“She does,” Daindreth confirmed. “Scattered across the empire. I don’t know how many.”

“Do you know where?” Amira glanced back to him.

Daindreth shrugged. “The names of a few cities have been mentioned before, but I don’t know for certain. I know that some of them move around.”

Amira nodded, thinking. She’d expected as much.

“Think there are any in Hylendale?” Thadred asked.

“I think there are about to be,” Amira answered. “If there aren’t already.” And this time, Vesha’s Kadra’han would not underestimate Daindreth’s assassin.

“Think they know we’re here?” Daindreth asked. “In Hylendale, I mean.”

“Even if word hasn’t reached Vesha yet, which I’m sure it has, yes.” Amira inhaled. “They know we were out to rid you of Caa Iss. It follows we’ll be consulting the women who cursed you with him.”

Thadred grunted. “I hate being predictable.”

So did Amira, but there was nothing to be done for it.

“Do we plan to go into the Cursewood?” Daindreth asked.

Amira was proud that there was no fear in his words. “Not if we can help it, but probably.”

“Have you ever been?” Daindreth asked. This time, there was some hesitation.

“To the edge.” Amira bit off a chunk of mutton, chewing and gulping it down. “Once.”

She had been on the way back from one of her father’s tasks, a particularly grizzly assassination that had left not only her mark, but a stable boy and a porter dead. She’d been hoping for something, she couldn’t have said what. But whatever it was, she hadn’t found it.

The blackbriars had spread from the border to the distant horizon, tangling over the hills and mountains. The Istovari sorceresses had sealed themselves off so that no one could pursue them. And they’d done it most effectively, gauntleting themselves in untold acres of poisonous thorns that choked the life out of everything in sight.

Amira remembered looking on that tangle of poisoned forest and feeling a deep sense of hopelessness. It was a visible reminder of how truly abandoned she was.

“How do you think that will go?” Daindreth asked. “When we find the sorceresses, I mean.”

Amira honestly didn’t know. “I’m not sure,” she said. “It will go very well or very poorly. It’s unlikely there will be a middle ground.”

Thadred gulped down his latest bite of mutton. “What do we plan to do if it’s poorly?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” Amira answered. Her words were only partially true. She’d thought about how to persuade her mothers to help them for days now, even weeks, since before she had freed Daindreth. Yet so far, she could think of nothing.

They had nothing to offer the Istovari sorceresses. The promise of freedom and restoration to status once Daindreth was emperor, perhaps, but Amira had a feeling the sorceresses would want far more than that. With her luck, they probably wanted revenge on Drystan more than they wanted their lives back. From what Amira had seen, they were petty like that.

A crack sounded from outside the cave. At first, Amira thought it was another peal of thunder, but then a rushing, rumbling, crashing roared all around them.

“What’s that?” Daindreth yelled.

“I don’t know!” Amira shouted back. Amira could sense nothing unusual about the ka around them, either. As best she could tell, the world was exactly as it had been.

The roaring, rushing continued for a few minutes before the patter of the rain drowned it out. The horses stamped and snorted for some time after that, but they eventually fell silent.

Amira kicked at the ground impatiently, glaring at the pouring sky. By the time the rain stopped falling, it was late in the evening and darkness had claimed the landscape around them. In the end, the three of them spent the night in the natural lean-to, waiting for the storm to pass.

♦♦♦

The next morning, Amira was ready to be on their way. Thadred complained of stiffness after spending an entire night on the hard ground—as he had every night outside Mynadra. They found water in a swollen stream not far from the outcrop and refilled their waters skins and let the horses drink.

After that, Amira was pushing them on again. She had no desire to be caught by constables or worse. If Vesha had Kadra’han scattered across the empire, the sorcerers would have ways of tracking them that wouldn’t require a trail or tracks.

The three riders shared another meal in the saddle, moving the horses at a steady walk. They encountered no more shepherds or deer, just squirrels that scurried overhead chittering.

Amira wished she had a bow or a sling to down a few of the rodents. She’d have to make a point of getting one as soon as she could.

They left the valley by early afternoon after rejoining the main road. They traveled a bit to the side of the road on the grass to keep their horses off the slick mud. Their group made good progress, all things considered, and crested a ridge overlooking the valley at their backs just as the sun began its western descent.

“Gods, what happened?” Thadred gasped.

Amira looked back, one hand already on her dagger, and stopped. Her eyes widened as she took in the valley, or what was left of it.

The rocky cliffs where they had spent the night were intact, as were the surrounding forests. But the lower grazing pastures and farmlands were just...gone.

In their place was a swath of dark brown sludge. From this distance, Amira could make out jutting skeletons of trees, rocks, and other debris caught up in the flow.

“Gods,” Daindreth echoed his cousin. “Mudslide.”

Amira swallowed, taking in the devastation. It had missed them, barely.

“Are mudslides common here?” Thadred demanded.

Amira shook her head numbly. “Years ago, they sometimes happened near the mountains, but—”

“We have to go back!” Daindreth said, turning his horse around.

“No!” Amira pivoted her horse in front of him. “It’s too late.”

“The village, Amira!” Daindreth snapped.

“Anyone who was caught in that sludge overnight is long dead,” Amira snapped back. “We have no way of getting to the survivors even if there are any. That sludge is too thick and unless you can fly, you won’t be getting over it without getting caught in it yourself.

“We can’t just leave them!” the archduke cried.

“They’re dead, Dain!” Amira shouted back, her voice echoing over the mountains around them.

Daindreth shook his head.

“Dain.” Thadred pulled his horse up beside the archduke. “You know she’s telling the truth.”

“We can’t just leave them.”

“No,” Thadred agreed. “But we can’t go back to them, either.”

Daindreth stared toward the devastated valley, torment written across his face.

In that moment, Amira allowed herself to feel a pang of sadness, too. That village was buried. Those children, their mothers and sisters, their brothers and fathers who had been tending the sheep—all of them were dead.

Amira’s gut clenched at the thought, but what could they do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

They stayed on that ridge for several more moments. Daindreth never once took his eyes off the ravaged valley.

Chapter Four

Daindreth

Lashera hadn’t changed at all in the months since Daindreth had last set eyes on it. It was still as small as he remembered—a walled city of grey stone with buildings never rising higher than four or five levels.

He had been told how many people lived inside, but couldn’t remember. Was it twenty thousand? Twenty-five? Large by the standards of most the empire, but not particularly impressive by the measure of Mynadra.

It was still raining when they crested the ridge overlooking the city. It had been raining off and on for their whole journey, which had meant cold and wet nights huddled beneath trees most of the time.

Thadred groaned and rubbed at his thigh. “I’ll be glad to sleep in a bed again.”

Amira cast Daindreth a look. His cousin had stopped complaining some time ago. It had both of them concerned for the knight, but there was nothing they could do besides keep pressing on.

“We should split up to enter the city,” Amira said. She pulled at the clasp of her cloak.

Their woolen clothing was soaked through and swollen with the rain. Half the time, Daindreth felt as if the thick fabric were suffocating him.

Amira elaborated. “Lone riders aren’t nearly as suspicious as several together.”

“Do you think anyone will recognize you?” Thadred asked.

“At the gates?” Amira shook her head. “I’ll be careful.” She pulled her cloak hood up over her hair. “I’ll take the south gate. That one is fairly obscure. You two go through the main one.”

Daindreth tried to hide his concern. “You’re leaving us?”

“Only for a bit,” Amira answered. “Vesha probably has an order out to catch anyone who fits our description.”

“Do you really think your father would turn you over to her?”

Amira laughed bitterly. “He turned me over to you, didn’t he?”

Daindreth had no argument for that. He still struggled to understand King Hyle.

“We’ll meet back at the central chapel. That’s a popular enough place.” Amira jerked her chin toward the city. “It’s crowded enough that we won’t stand out.”

“How long?” Daindreth’s hands tightened on his reins.

“With the time it will take to get into the city?” She considered for a moment, chewing on her lower lip. “No longer than two hours.”

Daindreth adjusted the reins in his hands. Two hours. “You’re sure no one will recognize you?” Daindreth hesitated. He didn’t know much about her life as King Hyle’s assassin. How well had she slipped in and out of the city unseen?

“I’ll be fine,” she said. She frowned. “Is that too long? Will you be alright?”

“Me?” Daindreth frowned.

She tapped the side of her head and nodded at him.

“Oh.” She meant Caa Iss. “I should be.” He’d gone for more than ten years without her help and with the cythraul chattering away inside his skull. It was nothing he couldn’t handle. “What should we do if we don’t find you after two hours?”

Amira cocked her head to the side. “You will. Or I’ll find you.”

“Amira—”

“I’ll be fine, Daindreth.” Her voice carried finality. “I promise.”

Daindreth didn’t think she could promise that. She’d proven she could hold her own, yet he hated the idea of her being alone.

Daindreth nodded reluctantly though he had no idea how Caa Iss would react to finally being able to speak again. When Daindreth had first met Amira, the demon’s retaliations after being in her presence had been crippling. Daindreth had ended up on the floor more than once.

It was a huge unknown. He hadn’t dealt with the demon in days, not since his dream several nights ago.

He hadn’t told either of the other two about his dream. What was there to tell?

“Perhaps I should be the one to go alone,” Thadred said, glancing between them. “And you stay together.”

Amira shook her head. “I’m the one most likely to be recognized.”

Thadred cocked his head to one side. “I thought you said you could avoid them.”

“I can, but I don’t know if I can do it with another person.”

Daindreth nodded. She’d known what was best on this journey so far. “I’ll see you in a couple hours, my love. Thad has helped me through worse.”

Amira glanced to his cousin and a look passed between them. As much as those two clashed, they were both his Kadra’han. There was an understanding between them, a relationship that circled around him, but didn’t really include him.

“I’ll see him through,” Thadred said, giving Amira a short nod.

That seemed to satisfy her. Amira gathered the reins of her little bay mare. “In a few hours, then,” she said.

She nudged her horse off the road and into the towering pines that lined either side. Daindreth watched her go, clenching his hands and his jaw. His shoulders tightened and his whole body went tense, bracing.

“Are you ready?” Thadred asked.

“Yes,” Daindreth answered. Not waiting, he urged his mare into a walk. The horses were tired after so many days on the road and he had to nudge her with his heels again to get her to pick up the pace.

Thadred clicked his tongue and the dappled gelding plodded onward alongside them. They made their way carefully down the hill. The road was slick as mud squelched under the hooves of the horses.

A scent of petrichor hung in the air and the soft patter of rain sounded all around them. All was peaceful and silent and Daindreth was tense as a hunted fox.

He kept glancing back to where Amira had disappeared into the trees even though he knew she wouldn’t be there. In his mind, he imagined her as she had been after freeing him from Mynadra, barely a week ago. Bloodied, battered, and too weak to even speak.

She’d healed, she healed remarkably fast now, but Daindreth wanted her close. He wanted her in sight. He wanted her safe.

She’d spent far too much time protecting him these past days. The last thing he wanted was to use her. Her mother had used her. Her father had used her. It was time someone protected her.

You’d think I was going to strike you. Caa Iss’s voice slithered into his thoughts like the tendril of a poisonous weed, confirming that Amira was on her way to the far gate of Lashera. So tense these days.

Daindreth kept his focus on the gate ahead, pretending he couldn’t hear.

Lashera. Really? Anywhere in the world and you choose this place?

Thadred took to surveying the trees around them, taking on the role of bodyguard. He held his cane sword loosely in one hand.

Daindreth swallowed but kept his eyes straight ahead. Daindreth’s horse came too close to a farmer’s cart laden with cabbages. The donkey brayed in annoyance and the farmer cracked his whip, cursing at Daindreth.

The archduke pulled his horse back with an apology while Thadred rolled his eyes. Daindreth glared at his cousin, but Thadred had a point. Daindreth hadn’t paid attention. Part of him still kept expecting other people to move out of his path.

Never in his life had he traveled without an escort. Daindreth had always been attended by a small army of porters, footmen, guards, and attendants.

Caa Iss made a bored sound in Daindreth’s thoughts. Who do you think will kill you first? King Hyle or Lady Cyne?

Daindreth kept his attention on the road ahead.

It’s ironic. Placing bets on which of your future in-laws will be your doom.

Caa Iss continued to chatter inside Daindreth’s head. That incessant babble that had haunted so much of Daindreth’s life.

They neared the gates and as best Daindreth could tell, there were twenty or so guards, but no one appeared to be stopping the people from entering. Farmers with their cabbages, live chickens, and other wares trundled under the raised portcullis with barely a second glance to the armed men on either side.

Daindreth peered up through the sprinkle of rain. Was it his imagination or were the guards staring at him?

They’re probably on the lookout for you, Caa Iss said, noticing Daindreth’s attention. King Hyle is loyal to Vesha.

That much was true but being afraid wouldn’t solve anything. Daindreth surveyed the farmers and merchants that pressed in around them. The gate wasn’t crowded, but there was a fair number of people making their way into Lashera at this hour. Men with knob-kneed boys at their sides, women with children clinging to their skirts.

There was a raw kind of humanity to it. Not unlike seeing insects crawling under a marble statue. They were every bit as real as the palaces and castles where Daindreth had spent his life and yet their reality was so removed from his own.

He took them in with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. All these people, each one leading a life with its own highs and lows, hopes and fears. How strange. How wonderful.

Take a good look, prince, Caa Iss said. You’ve doomed them all by your selfishness.

Daindreth kept right on watching the people around him. A woman aboard a well-groomed mule shoved past his horse, her rigidly coiffed hair tucked beneath a velvet cap—a lawyer. After her came a man on foot with a pair of buckets braced over his shoulders.

They’ll all be dead soon at the rate you’re going. You’ve seen the consequences of your actions.

Daindreth’s pause must have given away his confusion.

Oh, you didn’t realize? The vague sensation of a sigh crossed Daindreth’s thoughts. That village in the valley. On you.

Daindreth stiffened and resisted the urge to demand out loud what the cythraul meant.

This region used to be plagued by mudslides every few years.

A sinking dread began in Daindreth’s gut.

The demon tsked. It’s true. Ask anyone. But your mother made a deal to keep it from happening. A deal you broke.

Daindreth swallowed. No. It wasn’t possible.

They’re dead because of you!

A barrage of images flared across Daindreth’s mind.

There had been a child inside the cottage where he’d bought their food. A little girl who hadn’t spoken but had watched him with wide eyes peering out from auburn curls. He’d smiled at her, and she’d giggled before running off with a ragdoll in hand.

Now he saw that child suffocating in mud, her lungs filling with dirt and little hands grasping in the darkness, trying to scream but not having enough air.

Daindreth saw her mother, the gaunt woman who had sold them food, smashed by a rush of black mud. He saw the sheep and their shepherds crushed under the weight of snapping trees, heard the dogs barking in panic before they yelped and fell silent.

It all came to him in a rush of pain, fear, and scenes that flashed and blended together into a torrent.

Daindreth slammed his face into his horse’s neck and his eyes cleared for just a moment. He saw the muddy stones under his horse as he gasped, knotting his hands in the animal’s mane.

“Dain!” A hand grabbed his sleeve and he heard Thadred’s voice as if from far away. Thadred cursed to make an oarsman blush, scrambling to hold Daindreth on his horse while the mare pranced sideways away from Thadred’s gelding.

“Is everything alright here?” asked the stern voice of a stranger.

Daindreth looked up to see the silhouette of a guard before the sight of another dead child stole across his vision. He clamped a hand over his eyes and attempted to scrub the images away, but couldn’t.

Look at them, Your Highness, Caa Iss sneered. Are you so noble now?

Daindreth stayed doubled over on his horse’s neck as Thadred gave some excuse about a hangover and a wild night in the outlying villages.

“Just heading home,” Thadred sputtered, jerking the reins of Daindreth’s horse close. “I promise you my aunt will be giving him a tongue-lashing worse than anything—”

Daindreth didn’t catch the rest of what was said. Screaming began in his ears and he clenched his teeth as voices joined the images.

Children cried for their mothers, wood cracked, men screamed names into the dark, gasps and gurgles as mud covered the victims in a merciless sludge.

Daindreth was distantly aware of his horse moving and Thadred’s voice at his side. He couldn’t make out what his cousin was saying. Caa Iss’s voice boomed far louder.

Look at them, archduke. Listen to them.

Daindreth had no choice. Mud-coated corpses littered a field across his vision. Crows descended and picked at the mud, scraping it back to expose the rotting bodies beneath.

They pecked at the bloated belly of what had been a child, tearing through the remains of a linen shift and the flesh underneath.

This is the future of your empire without me, Caa Iss snarled.

Daindreth’s head pounded, and the cawing of crows filled his ears. He pressed his head against the back of his horse’s neck and held on, trusting Thadred could guide the mare.

“Damn it, Dain,” he heard his cousin say. “Just hold on.”

This is only the beginning, Caa Iss hissed. Taylan, the guards killed in your escape, that man in Phaed.

Images flashed through Daindreth’s head in time to the demon’s words. He saw Taylan’s throat being cut by Darrigan when the Kadra’han discovered Taylan trying to help Daindreth end himself. Daindreth saw the guards—he didn’t even know how many there had been—falling beneath the blows of Amira and himself as they’d fought their way from the palace to freedom.

His name was Jorgen, Caa Iss said as a picture of the guardsman from Phaed washed over his thoughts. His wife was expecting in a few months. What will become of that child now?

Daindreth knew the demon was a liar, there was no way for him to be sure that the cythraul’s story about the city guard was true, but he was telling the truth about Taylan and the other palace guards.

Now a village of innocent people. Caa Iss tsked again. An emperor is supposed to protect his people. You’re not setting very good precedents. You really think you would be a better emperor than me?

Daindreth didn’t answer the cythraul. He blinked against the piercing throb in his head, clinging to the neck of his horse and fighting to see beyond the nightmarish images.

Daindreth groaned as a sensation like spikes being stabbed into his temples nearly knocked him off his horse.

“Hold on,” he heard Thadred say again. “Just hold on.” Thadred punctuated that statement with several choice curses.

Would you sacrifice your cousin, too?

Caa Iss presented Daindreth with a memory, years old, and yet horrifying. He saw Thadred as they’d found him at the bottom of that slope, his horse squealing on the ground several steps away with one leg bent at a sickening angle.

Thadred had lain white with pain, splayed on wet grass, covered in blood, mud, and the filth of the forest. Daindreth had thought his cousin was dead at a first glance.

He heard Thadred screaming then and turned to his cousin, but no. Through the haze of Caa Iss’s assault, he could still make out Thadred on the dappled gelding to his right, sitting straight and keeping his eyes ahead.

It was a memory.

The surgeons had said again and again that they didn’t know what to do. Part of Thadred’s pelvis and upper thigh had been shattered and they had no way to set the bones.

Thadred had screamed in pain for days. Weeks. He’d begged them to kill him. The surgeons had even suggested an extra draught of a sleeping potion. Thadred could go to sleep and never wake, they had said. It was kinder, they’d insisted. Daindreth had refused to hear of it.

Images of Amira flooded Daindreth’s mind. Her thrown back, bruised and bleeding after their first encounter. Her with the marks of her stepmother’s assault on her face. Her weeping the night he’d ordered her and Thadred to leave the palace. Her battered unconscious the night of their escape.

The images shifted then, from memories to threats. He saw Amira impaled on a guardsman’s spear, Amira’s head tumbling onto the ground, severed by Darrigan’s sword. He saw her with Vesha’s hands around her throat and then it wasn’t Vesha, but Vesha’s familiar, Saan Thii.

The demoness ripped at Amira’s throat and belly, tearing her guts out while she screamed.

My sister is not as forgiving as I am, Caa Iss hissed. Amira has allowed you to flaunt the will of Moreyne for too long.

Amira dead, Amira half dead, Amira screaming as she died, Amira being raped by soldiers and then by Caa Iss in his demon form. Amira splayed on a wheel like a spider web with the pinchers of cythraul biting at her flesh. Amira cut apart inch by inch by the creatures.

Daindreth fought to blot out the images, but they poured into his skull without any sign of letting up. All the while, the pounding in his temple grew worse.

Daindreth didn’t realize how far he had curled over his horse until he careened over her neck and hit the cobblestones. The fall jarred his shoulder and struck his knee. Pain shot through his face.

The impact jerked him from his visions for just a moment and he saw the outline of Thadred and the horses above, silhouetted by the gauzy sky. Shaking, Daindreth grabbed at his head with one hand and tried to force himself upright with the other. He was barely aware of a hand grabbing the back of his collar.

“Damn it!” Thadred shouted, adding a few more scandalous words. “Of course, it’s the cripple that has to drag along your sorry hide. Just my luck.”

The blinding pain blocked Daindreth’s sight when the visions didn’t. Daindreth was aware of Thadred dragging him, but he could hardly do anything to move.

“Get up,” Thadred ordered. “Come on. Get up. I’m not carrying you to the chapel. Let’s go.”

Still trembling, Daindreth forced his legs straight. Relying on Thadred to guide him, he fumbled blindly to his whickering horse.

Voices and the low chatter of the city buzzed around them, but Caa Iss began bellowing in Daindreth’s mind again.

You will doom everything and everyone you love, Caa Iss roared. You could be the greatest emperor this world has ever seen, but you would throw it all away!

Daindreth wasn’t even sure how, but he was aware of being back on his horse. Gripping onto the mane again, the only solid thing in front of him, he held on and hoped Thadred knew where they were going.

Chapter Five

Amira

Amira found Daindreth and Thadred in the courtyard outside the Chapel of the Blessed—the largest public religious house in the city, commissioned by Drystan himself years ago.

Daindreth had been doubled over on his horse and Thadred had been leading the animal by the reins. Amira hadn’t expected going without her to be so difficult. Guilt plucked at her anew as she prepared to leave him again.

The warehouse where the three of them had set up smelled of mold, but it was dry. Sealed crates of wax, ink, lamp oil, and other odds and ends rose in stacks around them.

They left their horses at a local livery stable. Amira had Thadred pay for three days and then the trio had set out on foot.

They had enough money to put themselves up in an inn or stable their horses, not both. The horses would be the harder to hide and Amira would prefer to keep herself and the two men as far away from other people as possible.

Amira found an old cast iron pot in the warehouse and used that to build a fire. Containing the flames would make it easier to dispose of the evidence later.

She’d acquired bread, meat, and cabbage from the market. After fiddling with her knife for a bit, Amira wrapped the strips of lamb in cabbage and skewered them to roast.

The scent of cooking meat overpowered the stench of mold. Overhead, the rain continued pattering on the shingled roof. Somewhere in the dark, a hole still let rain drip on the crates below.

“You’re sure no one will trouble us here?” Thadred asked, glancing around.

Amira shrugged. She’d picked the locks to get in earlier. “This belongs to Baron Suldue. His estate has had money problems and so had to cut some of their Lashera staff. This place gets inspected perhaps once a year.”

Thadred cast her a look. “And if we happen to be lucky enough for an inspection to come tomorrow?”

Amira shrugged. “Then we leave.” She had leaned back against a crate labeled indigo with Daindreth beside her. He leaned against her, his head on her shoulder and his eyes closed though she doubted he was asleep.

Thadred took a deep breath. “How long will you be gone tonight?”

Daindreth tensed against her. It was barely noticeable, but she felt it.

“Not long,” Amira said softly, as much to Daindreth as to Thadred. She brushed the hair back from Daindreth’s face and kissed his temple. “Not long, I promise.”

They had discussed all three of them going or perhaps Amira and Daindreth, but this was one errand she would rather do alone. They needed information. Amira knew where and who to get it from, but she had no idea how things might play out. It was always a roll of the dice when it came to this particular source.

“Perhaps you should wait a day,” Thadred suggested. “Give yourself some time to scout.”

Amira shook her head. “We’re ahead of Vesha right now. At least, I think we are.”

There was no reason not to believe it. They had seen neither hide nor hair of her agents ever since Phaed. At times, Amira could almost believe they were safe and other times, the quiet wracked her with anxiety, convincing her she must have missed something.

The mudslide in the valley should have taken out anyone who was pursuing them or at least covered any trail that trackers were following. Amira had felt some relief at that then guilt when she remembered how many people had died. It was one thing to kill armed men. It was quite another to see the deaths of simple shepherds. Yet there was nothing she could do about it.

Amira hated the idea of leaving Daindreth again, but saw no other options.

They’d cleaned the mud and blood off him, but he had been quiet ever since that afternoon. Whenever either Amira or Thadred had asked about it, Daindreth had assured the two of them that he was just tired.

Amira wanted to ask Thadred if this was normal. She didn’t have as much experience with these episodes of Daindreth’s. For whatever it was worth, the knight looked on with as much concern as she did.

Daindreth let Amira pull away, but she felt his eyes following her as she crossed to where she’d left her dagger, chain, and other weapons. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

The tone in his voice turned her head. There was an edge to it, fear, even.

“Yes, Dain,” Amira said, not for the first time. She looked to Thadred, but the other man just shrugged. “I’m sorry I have to go, but I’ll be back as soon as I can, alright?”

“Be careful.” Daindreth’s request was soft with an edge of desperation. “Please be careful.”

Amira frowned, looking back to the archduke. “I’ve been in worse situations. I’m not really expecting trouble.”

“I know, just...” He let off a sigh and rubbed between his eyes. “I know you’ll be fine. Of course, you’ll be fine.”

“I’ll hurry,” she promised.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Daindreth met her eyes again. “Take all the time you need. Don’t rush.”

A heartbeat of silence stretched between them.

“Are you alright?” Amira wasn’t sure what else to ask.

Daindreth leaned back against the wooden crate at his back. “I’ll be fine.”

“Be back soon,” Thadred said, shifting beside the fire.

“I’ll miss you too, Thadred.” Amira spoke the words with just a dash of sarcasm. The knight didn’t seem to take offense if he noticed.

Amira leaned over Daindreth and kissed him lightly. He looked up to her as if surprised and she offered a slight smile. “I won’t be gone long.”

“I know.” Daindreth stroked his thumb along her lips, tracing the outline of her mouth. “Be safe.”

“Always.” She kissed him again—briefly, easily—before slipping away.

She melted into the shadows of the warehouse without looking back. Thadred and Daindreth were silent. She tried not to let guilt pluck at her when she remembered what her absence would be like for Daindreth.

It couldn’t be helped, and she should get this over with as quickly as possible if she wanted to get back to him.

Amira slipped outside the warehouse and into the street lined with loading chutes from the warehouse they’d occupied as well as its neighbor across the way. All was quiet, save for a furry shape that scurried into the darkness—a large rat or small cat, it was hard to be sure.

Amira stepped around a few piles of horse manure and sidestepped a few puddles on her way out. She reached the main avenue and took a left.

Amira squinted against the rain, pulling her hood up higher over her head. Tonight was not a night to be outdoors if it could be helped, not when the rain was cold and a chill wind threatened from the north.

Ka circled in golden and hazy loops over her head from all around the city. Amira spooled it around herself, willing it to warm her, but it didn’t work. She’d need to learn a spell that could make heat, but as she wound more and more ka around herself, she noticed that the rain drops began sliding off her cloak instead of soaking in.

Interesting.

She might not have a spell book, but perhaps she could figure some things out on her own. She’d need more time to experiment.

There weren’t many out and about on Lashera’s streets on a night like this, but as Amira pressed toward the northern side of the city, she passed a few rattling carts, a whistling man with a package tucked under one arm, and a handful of figures with their cowls pulled low against the rain.

Amira searched every shadow and corner for signs of anyone who shouldn’t be close. She sought them out using ka, tracking the energy to its source from every direction.

There were forms and figures out of sight, but none too close or moving unusually. She navigated the streets to the best of her memory, seeking out the house she hadn’t visited for years.

When she found it, she recognized it at once, even in the dark. It was a two-story townhouse with a shoulder-height stone fence around it. Ivy sprawled across most of the walls, even thicker than the last time she’d visited.

From the front, she could just view the courtyard and the small stable that housed several horses, but also a few cows, pigs, and chickens. Amira had a vague memory of one summer when the sow had piglets. Amira and her playmate had snuck into the barn to cuddle and kiss the piglets before their nursemaids had caught them. It was only by some miracle that the sow hadn’t attacked.

Amira had been young, then. Too young to understand where ham came from.

The golden glow of ka warned her of the two guards by the front entrance. Amira circled the townhouse complex once, searching for anything unusual.

She could sense the glow of ka from inside a few upper rooms and also down below in the servant’s quarters. As best Amira could discern, the staff had not been increased and there were no guards besides the two out front.

Though it was probably unnecessary, Amira searched for any sign of spells or marks of power lingering about the townhouse. Nothing.

Once she was satisfied, Amira sidled around to the back of the townhouse, the point farthest from the guards. She unclasped her cloak and dropped it to the ground, concealing it as best she could in the shadows. No one would find it unless they were looking for it.

Though she sensed nothing out of the ordinary, she took extra care clambering over the edge of the wall. The stone and ivy were still slick with the day’s rain and she had to go slower than usual.

On the inside, she dropped down and froze for just an instant. Around her was an empty clothesline, buckets, and pails, and assorted odds and ends she managed to make out by the dim light from the house. In the windows, just a few candles were lit which gave her hope that her target was still awake.

Amira slipped up to the house and tested the back-entry door. It was locked, so she grabbed onto one of the uneven stones in the wall and pulled herself upwards.

Her heart beat a little faster, half with nervousness, half with excitement. This was the thrill of the chase that she’d never admit to loving. For so long, she had felt shame over that excitement, that rush that came with tracking quarry.

There was no reason for shame tonight.

Amira climbed up to a second story window, her body pressed against the stone. She made certain she sensed no ka in the room on the other side, then teased the latch open. The window slid open with a little creak, but nothing more.

Amira pulled herself up and over the ledge to sit on the sill with her legs hanging over. Her soft-soled boots met smooth wood as she shut the window and lightly padded out to the hall. It was dark, no sign of the townhouse’s residents.

Amira moved down the hall, stepping toe to heel, taking her time. She’d promised Daindreth she would hurry and hated to leave him to Caa Iss for a moment longer than needed, but caution could only bear good fruit here.

She passed the closed door of a bedroom and heard a woman’s voice from inside. There was another room with a warm shape of ka lying horizontal, probably asleep. Amira passed several other closed doors, but they were all empty, at least of living things.

Reaching the stairs, Amira stepped down them carefully so as not to make any of them creak. At the bottom, she squinted in the dark. Ka might tell her where the living things were, but it wouldn’t help her find loose floorboards or furniture.

She eased down one step at a time. She reached the bottom and slid around the stair landing, one hand on the wall for guidance. Up ahead, she sensed the ka of several shapes, indistinct through the walls, but roughly human in size.

Judging by the direction, she guessed it was the main study.

Amira heard a door swing open ahead. She pressed back flat against the wall. She reached for ka and used it to command the shadows to wrap around her as she had done back in the Mynadra palace.

Low voices came from the other room, both familiar. Amira couldn’t catch the words, only snatches of sound and what sounded like a farewell.

One set of clicking boots moved away down the hall and toward the front of the house. Another receded back before the door. Amira crouched lower into the shadows as she recognized two sources of ka, about knee high and trotting on all fours.

The click of nails and the loud panting warned her before two sleek forms appeared around the corner. They were a pair of matching sighthounds. Their bodies were lean, toned, and built for chasing rabbits in open meadows.

Amira cursed. She’d hoped they would be in the kennels.

One of the dogs paused and its cropped ears shot straight up. Its tail went rigid just as it let off a sharp bark.

“Shh!” Amira hissed, making a kissing sound. “Here, boy.” She held out her hand. “It’s me. Do you remember me?”

The second dog joined the first, tail going rigid, ears pinned back as it let off a snarl.

Panic rising in her chest, Amira reached for their collars, but the dogs drew back, snapping at her hand. Amira swore under her breath and reached for them again, but to no avail. They skittered out of her reach.

“Dogs!” came a man’s voice from the direction of the study. “What’s going on?” Footsteps approached in their direction.

Cursing, Amira pulled the shadows around her as tight as she possibly could, spooling and coiling them like a weaver at work. She held her breath and waited, one hand on her dagger just in case.

A man’s figure stopped just around the corner. “Dogs. Quiet.” He beckoned. “Come on. Go into the yard.”

The two hounds woofed in Amira’s direction, but the man was unimpressed.

“There’s nothing there. Come.”

The dogs whined, nosing toward Amira.

“Come!”

The two hounds trotted after the man and followed him out of sight. Amira heard his footsteps recede and one of the exterior doors open.

She waited several heartbeats before following the light of a fireplace around the corner. She reached an open door and slipped inside, finding the house’s study.

The study was spacious, twice the size of the bedroom Amira had back in her father’s palace. Ledgers lined the walls in neat, regimented rows, sorted by numbered codes on their spines. A solid oak desk stacked with neat towers of parchment dominated one side with several plush chairs before it.

Thick carpets lined the floor and a stand beside the window held a carafe of golden brandy with two crystal tumblers, both unused and turned upside down. To Amira’s right, a painting of a young family took up the only wall space not occupied by a window or a bookshelf.

Amira slid behind the curtains on the north wall, wrapping shadows around her as she did. Pressed against the exterior window, she could see the dark courtyard outside.

Two sleek shapes trotted in circles around the yard, sniffing and pawing at the ground. The two hounds seemed to have forgotten all about her.

At least her run in with them had worked out to her advantage. Now they were outside and out of the way.

Amira waited with a racing heart as the study’s occupant returned. With every clicking bootstep, she tensed.

She might have to kill him. Half of her hoped she would. The other half prayed she wouldn’t.

Through a slit between the curtains, Amira watched as Lord Terrence Cromwell stepped into the study and closed the door. He moved back to his desk without stopping and sat down.

He smeared a hand over his face, took a deep breath, and reached for his quill. He pulled the extra lamp closer and studied a document pinned by paperweights to the desk.

Amira waited a little longer, her racing heart making each second seem like a minute and each minute seem like an hour. As Cromwell began making notations on the document, settling into his work, she focused on steadying her breathing and calming her racing heart.

When all seemed quiet and she was sure she was composed, Amira stepped out from the curtain.

“Lord Cromwell.”

Cromwell’s dark eyes snapped up to her in an instant. He didn’t move, surveying her intently. She might have startled him, but to his credit, he showed nothing as he looked her over, not even a hint of apprehension.

“Lady Amira,” he said, using the same tone he might have used had they met in the halls of the Hylendale palace.

“Stay as you are,” Amira clipped, raising a hand to stop him as he made to stand. “And keep your hands where I can see them.”

Cromwell obeyed, but still gave nothing away. “Should I still address you as ‘lady’?” he asked. “Or is it ‘archduchess’ now?”

Amira raised her chin. “What have you heard from Mynadra?”

“Regarding what, my lady?”

“Daindreth and I.”

Cromwell’s mouth quirked slightly, and Amira realized that she had called the archduke by his familiar name, not his proper title. That probably told Cromwell all he needed to know about the nature of their relationship. They were betrothed, yes. They were connected by the Kadra’han’s bond, yes. But that simple use of Daindreth’s name communicated that it had gone beyond that.

The lawyer inhaled and leaned back in his chair, still keeping his hands in her line of sight. “Last I heard, you were to be married this month. The archduke was said to dote on you and there were stories that you impressed the entire court with a rather unconventional display of archery talent.”

Amira remained quiet, staring down Cromwell. He let the silence stretch for several beats before he continued.

“What should I have heard?”

Amira didn’t take her eyes off the old man. His black velvet cap and doublet shone by the light of the fireplace. It reminded her of the black velvet dress he’d gifted her, the one she’d worn the night she met Daindreth—properly met Daindreth.

“Are you here to kill me, Lady Amira?” There was just a hint of impatience in his tone at that.

“I’d rather not.” Amira meant it, too. Cromwell was responsible for more than a few of her life’s woes, but she had never considered him an enemy.

Cromwell might have relaxed just a little, but it was hard to be sure. “Then why have you come to me?”

“I need to know where to find the Istovari.”

Cromwell, with all the composure that had enabled his unrivaled politicking, didn’t even blink. “You want to find your mother?”

“My mother can rot in the Dread Marches,” Amira shot back. “I just need the sorceresses who were at the tower. All those that are still alive.”

Cromwell inhaled and studied the flames in the hearth, not speaking for a long moment.

“Well?” Amira clipped. “I know you have ways of finding them.”

“I do,” Cromwell admitted. “I’m just debating if it’s treason for me to tell you.”

“Is your loyalty to King Hyle or to Vesha?”

Cromwell’s face remained neutral. “To my liege, of course.”

Amira noted that he had not used the name of either monarch in that sentence.

“And where is yours, my lady?”

“I am a Kadra’han,” she said simply. “My loyalty is also to my liege.”

Cromwell was one of the few who had known from the start that she was a Kadra’han. He’d been the one to broker the arrangement that had allowed her to be trained by the order in Kelamora.

“I see,” Cromwell replied simply.

“Do you know where the Haven is? How to find it in Cursewood?”

“No,” Cromwell said. “No one does. Maps won’t help you, either. Only someone who has been there before can find the home of sorceresses within the forest.” He studied her, not breaking eye contact.

Amira thought to press him, then paused. Few people entered the Cursewood, but far fewer ever returned. She remembered her father sending men into the woods to scout it, at least fifty. Only two had ever been seen again, telling stories of mutated beasts and trees with a taste for human flesh. They reported no sign of human habitation.

“Tell me...” Cromwell spoke deliberately, calmly, as if each word was considered twice before he opened his mouth. “Would your mothers be pleased to see you?”

“Unlikely.” Amira’s tone was flat, hard. She saw no point in sugar coating the truth.

“No?”

“I’m not going to join them, if that’s your concern.”

“I never thought you were.” Cromwell let that sentence hang in the air, open to a myriad of interpretations. “Will you be visiting them alone?”

“Why? Do you want to come with me?” Amira shot back.

Cromwell simply blinked at her.

Amira inhaled and exhaled a long breath. “I don’t want you as an enemy, Cromwell.”

“Nor I you, my lady,” Cromwell answered coolly.

Another pensive silence stretched between them. “Will you do this for me?”

“What am I doing, my lady?” Cromwell never wavered, studying her closely. “Did the archduke hurt you at all?”

The question caught Amira off guard. For a moment, she wondered if it was genuine concern or if Cromwell was just trying to keep her unbalanced.

She considered her options for a moment, but she supposed that if this conversation somehow got back to Vesha, it wouldn’t tell the empress anything she didn’t already know. “He’s never hurt me.”

Cromwell’s brow furrowed, watching her reaction.

“No, he didn’t order me to say that,” Amira calmly answered.

Cromwell didn’t know about her breaking the curse that bound her to obey Daindreth. Nor did she plan to tell him about it just yet—if ever.

The lawyer appeared to measure his next words even more carefully than usual. “Is he good to you?”

“Better than my father ever was.” Amira didn’t want to give any more away, but that seemed to suffice.

Cromwell’s mouth thinned for just a moment. “This is an errand for him, I assume?”

Amira didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

“Why send you?” He frowned. “Why does the archduke need to ask for something in secret from one of his most loyal vassals?”

Amira remained silent.

Cromwell studied her for a long set of heartbeats.

They had played this game before, when she had served her father. The trick was to tell each other enough that they could help each other without giving away enough that they could hurt each other.

“I knew you were coming,” Cromwell said at length. “I received word about a withdrawal from one of the depositories in Phaed.”

Amira had known he would. The messenger network would have gotten here faster because they took the main roads. “Did you tell my father?”

Cromwell inhaled, those sharp, dark eyes surveying her from head to foot. “Does he need to know?”

That wasn’t exactly a denial, but Amira allowed it to stand. Cromwell might have told her father, but he probably hadn’t.

“Whose side are you on, Lady Amira?” Cromwell asked.

“My liege lord’s,” Amira answered. “Same as you.”

“And is that what you would choose?”

“What are you saying?” Amira clipped.

Cromwell had known about Caa Iss or at least something of Daindreth’s curse. Amira had never determined how much and short of strapping Cromwell to a chair and prying off his fingernails one at a time, there wasn’t much she could do to make him tell.

“It doesn’t matter.” Amira stepped away from the wall, folding her arms across her chest. “I want to speak with someone who can take me to the Haven. How long do you need?”

She was essentially asking him to commit treason, but Cromwell’s face didn’t change.

“Give me three days,” Cromwell said after a moment’s consideration. “I should have something for you by then.”

Amira nodded.

“Granted, my contacts may not wish to speak with you.”

Amira shrugged. “We’ll be no worse off than we were before, then.”

“We?” The shrewd lawyer pounced on that word like an owl snatching a mouse from a forest floor. “You are not alone, then.”

Amira inwardly cursed herself but remained outwardly calm. “Three days,” she said, stepping back toward the door. “Can I trust you?” Amira hated the taste of the words on her lips. She hated that she was having to put her faith in her father’s professional liar.

Cromwell, to his credit, didn’t answer right away. He glanced to the family portrait on the wall. The likeness depicted a somewhat younger version of himself, his wife Livian, their two boys, and a brown-haired little girl with doe eyes who had been painted in her father’s arms.

Amira hesitated, not sure if she was being manipulated or not. The girl in the painting looked so lush and full of life, but she had been dead almost twenty years.

A fever had swept through Hylendale the summer after the defeat of the Istovari sorceresses. Some had said that the sickness was another curse sent by the vengeful witches. Amira wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been. Hundreds had died, including Cromwell’s daughter.

Amira hadn’t been allowed to see Elin after she took ill, but she’d been told that the other girl had become skeletal and wan as a ghost by the time the disease finally took her.

“She would have been twenty-three this year,” Cromwell said, turning back to Amira. “I’m sure I would have married her off by now.”

“Strategically, of course,” Amira agreed, unable to hide the sardonicism in her tone at that.

“Of course.” Cromwell almost smiled.

“That’s all daughters are good for, isn’t it? Strategy. Pieces in your games.” Amira remembered her own father’s expression of sad determination when she had begged him not to give Fonra to Daindreth, a man they all thought to be a monster at the time. How King Hyle had trained her and used her and demanded all she had to give. How he had been willing to sacrifice Fonra on the altar of peace.

“It’s a game we all play,” Cromwell said, not arguing. “Those who are players to some are pieces to others. I am a piece to your royal father, and he is a piece to the empire. It is the way of things.”

It was a game Amira knew all too well and always she had been the one played, the one moved and shifted and shoved across the board to advance the schemes of others, mostly her father.

“I don’t care whose game you play,” Amira snapped. “You have your instructions.”

A slow smile crossed Cromwell’s face. “I look forward to seeing you as empress, my lady.”

Taking that as an acknowledgement, Amira moved for the door.

“Will you go see your sister?” Cromwell asked. “She has feared for you. None of her letters have been answered.”

Amira stopped. Her first impulse was to tell the truth—that she had never received any letters from Fonra while in Mynadra—but thought better of it. If Vesha had intercepted and withheld them or if Cromwell was just trying to plant doubt in her mind, it made little difference. “Fonra would do well to stay away from me. At least for now. I’ll not drag her into this. Three days.” Amira slipped out of Cromwell’s study and back into the darkness of the townhouse, drawing the shadows around her like a shroud.

She was becoming fond of this trick.

Amira slipped out the rear of the house and back over the wall before the dogs could catch her scent again.

Chapter Six

Daindreth

Daindreth moved beside Amira, keeping close in the bustling street. She’d brought him to the most crowded market in the city during peak vendor hours.

He’d been stricken with the roars and rage of Caa Iss for hours before she had returned last night. The lingering headache had lasted into part of the morning.

Until Cromwell got their answers, they had several days to wait in Lashera. Amira had decided that now was as good a time as any to find fresh clothes and other supplies they needed, so the two headed into the city.

The air was thick with the scent of rain along with smoke from the meat roasters. Dogs and stray cats dashed around on the ground, hoping to steal whatever might fall.

Farmers bartered with merchants and a fishwife argued with a woman in a nun’s habit. Children squalled in their mothers’ arms and young men passed jokes with friends, their arms laden with boxes or buckets.

At the corner of the street, a musician strummed his fiddle while a few children clapped and danced, keeping poor time, but laughing all the same. Someone shouted in rage while another man guffawed just across the narrow street.

It was all so...human.

It was not as large nor as organized as anything in Mynadra, but Daindreth had never been this close to a market before. He tried to think of words for it, how he would describe it.

They purchased salted, jerked lamb, cheese, and extra rope. Daindreth closely watched Amira barter. She slipped easily into the common dialect, bantering with the vendors and shrugging off the questions and curious looks at her trousers and lack of skirts.

The couple carried the goods in oiled satchels to protect them from the rain as they continued through the market. At Daindreth’s side, Amira traded a few copper coins to a vendor for two loaves of some sort. She passed one to him.

“Here,” she said.

Daindreth took the loaf she offered. It was some sort of pastry with a flaky dough that smelled of onion. “What is it?”

“It’s a dirt pie.”

Daindreth’s brow furrowed at the name but he broke off a corner of the flaked crust.

“Because everything in it came out of the dirt. They’re good.” Amira bit into hers, showing that the inside was a dark grey with some sort of creamy filling. She turned to continue down the street and Daindreth followed.

He bit into his pastry to find it wasn’t bad. Peas, carrots, potato, mushrooms, and onion had been stuffed inside with a thick gravy.

Amira found them a spot on the broad front steps outside a clothier and ate, watching the carts and shoppers pass in front of them. Amira’s shoulder, hip, and thigh were pressed against his. Daindreth felt heat everywhere they touched and a part of him was grateful that Thadred would be waiting for them when they returned to the warehouse tonight. His desire for Amira was starting to outweigh his better judgment.

She had a bit of gravy at the corner of her mouth, just to the edge of her lower lip.

Daindreth wiped it away with his thumb before he thought about it.

Amira shot him a look as if she was startled, then her expression changed. She smirked and kissed him before he saw it coming.

It was brief, barely a touch of her lips to his, but it was enough to set him back on his heels. Daindreth flushed and he wasn’t sure if it was more from embarrassment or excitement. “Amira, there are people!”

Even as he said it, he realized no one was watching. They were all too taken with their own business.

She giggled, a girlish, chiming sound that reminded him of the bells on a winter carriage.

Daindreth’s heart battered against his chest, and he had the feeling that he had done something wrong, yet all the more thrilling for the scandal.

She was equal parts innocence and seduction, half princess and half savage. When he was with her, he understood the stories of the great heroes who had fallen at the feet of their lovers, ready to give their lives at a word.

Daindreth had told Amira he wouldn’t bed her with the cythraul still in his head, but gods. He was still just a man. He couldn’t resist her forever.

Shouts suddenly rose from around the street. People came running ahead, pointing and calling out.

The patrons along the street jogged out of the road or nudged their beasts of burden to hasten out of the way. Drumming rattled from down the road and Daindreth stiffened.

Was it trouble?

He made to stand, but Amira clapped a hand on his thigh to stop him. Surprise jolted through him at the casual intimacy of her touch, enough to drive all thoughts of the coming commotion out of his head. He didn’t think anyone had touched him like that, certainly not Amira. Excitement, embarrassment, and confusion flared through him in warring measures.

He shot a glance to her, but she was watching the far end of the street, where everyone appeared to be making room. “It’s nothing,” she said. “Nothing to concern ourselves.”

Daindreth sat back down, and she removed her hand.

A moment later, a line of armored soldiers marched around the corner. At their head rode a standard bearer, a lad no more than fifteen on a flea-bitten grey mare, carrying a pole strung with the imperial banneret and the Hylendale crest beneath it.

The men marched through the mud of the street with their faces trained straight ahead and their ranks forming perfect lines. They moved in step to the time of a pair of drummers flanking the standard-bearer.

Amira shifted beside Daindreth, huddling against him. Was it his imagination or was she trying to minimize herself?

The soldiers marched past—perhaps fifty or sixty of them—and the street went back to business as usual in their wake. The patter of the drums and the stomp of the soldiers’ boots faded as quickly as they had arrived.

“Probably headed for one of the local outposts,” Amira remarked. She stood, flexing her neck. “They usually swap out the battalions near the end of the week.”

“Did you know any of them?” Daindreth nodded in the direction of the soldiers.

Amira shrugged. “Possibly.” She looked back to where the soldiers had disappeared.

“I’m surprised you’re not more concerned with being recognized.” This city had been her home for more than twenty years, after all, and it was not a large place to his way of thinking.

Amira shrugged. “Few people see what they aren’t looking for. They all think I am in Mynadra. Therefore, they won’t see me.”

Daindreth’s mind darkened at that, though he wasn’t sure why.

Amira bit her lip. “That and I wasn’t exactly flaunted after my mother’s banishment. My stepmother worked hard to make sure the people forgot me and King Hyle...well, he had his reasons for letting memory of me fade.”

Daindreth followed her gaze to where the soldiers had gone. He realized he didn’t know much about her life before him. Some of it, yes. The tragedy that had ended in her becoming a Kadra’han, yes. But not what her childhood had been like. Her girlhood and early days of womanhood.

Daindreth reached out and took her hand before standing. He kissed her temple, taking the opportunity to breathe in her scent as he did.

“There are people watching,” she teased.

Daindreth chuckled at that.

Across the street, his eyes locked on a dark figure staring at the two of them. Daindreth couldn’t have said what drew his attention to her. The woman was plain and pale with a dark braid swung over one shoulder. She had a dress of dark linen and a covered basket under one arm. She might have been in her late twenties, but she might have been older. It was hard to tell with her northern pallor. There was nothing remarkable or notable about her in comparison to the other market goers at all and yet Daindreth found that he couldn’t look away.

The woman’s mouth moved, and a sharp buzzing passed through Daindreth’s skull. He stumbled back a step, grabbing his head as panic rose in his chest.

“What—?”

Amira was already swinging around to face the woman.

Whatever the stranger saw in Amira’s face, it must have been enough. The pale woman spun around and ran down an alley between two shops, her damp cloak flapping behind her.

“This way!” Amira grabbed Daindreth’s hand and bolted after the woman, skidding in front of a mule cart and earning the curses of the driver.

Daindreth grabbed at the side of his head, still faintly buzzing with whatever the woman had done. Daindreth was a little slower for that, but their quarry was in a long, restrictive skirt and carrying a burdensome basket which didn’t allow her to get too far ahead of them.

Amira dragged him around a corner of the alley, and they spotted the woman again, her cloak billowing about her as she fled. “Stop!” Amira shouted. “Stop, we need to speak with—”

The stranger stopped and spun around to face them.

“We don’t want trouble,” Amira said, gripping Daindreth’s hand tight. “We don’t—”

“You are trouble.” The woman shook her head, her voice hard, unforgiving. “Do you know what your lover is?” She jerked her chin to Daindreth. “Do you know what stands beside you?”

Daindreth flicked his gaze between the two women. Amira faced down the stranger, unintimidated, but he recognized that hard, cold expression. It was the same expression Amira had worn when facing down courtiers back in the palace.

He watched their back for an ambush, but it appeared the woman was alone, at least for now.

“Are you Cromwell’s contact?” Amira asked. “Did he send you?”

The stranger did not answer.

“I am Amira Brindonu,” the assassin said. “Daughter of Cyne. I would speak with our mothers.”

The stranger shook her head. If she recognized Amira’s name, it didn’t impress her. “They will have nothing to do with that.” The woman pointed to Daindreth. “He’s cursed. He is a curse.”

“They’re the ones who cursed him,” Amira clipped back. “And they’re going to show us how to break the curse.”

The woman scoffed. “The mothers would never—”

“They will,” Amira snapped, her voice rising by an octave.

Daindreth clung to her hand, even as his own heart hammered harder in his chest.

“They did this, and they are going to undo it.” Amira’s voice lowered, almost to a growl. “I have no quarrel with them beyond this.”

The stranger cocked her head to the side. “You should kill him,” she said flatly. “If you knew what kind of monster—”

“Don’t lecture me on monsters!” Amira snarled. “I’ve fought that thing more than once and I’ve won. We won,” she added, squeezing Daindreth’s hand tighter.

Daindreth made eye contact with the stranger and saw nothing but contempt there. Hatred. Maybe even fear.

“The cythraul. You can sense him somehow?” Daindreth tilted his head to one side. “You’re right, he’s a monster. Worse than anything I ever thought possible.”

She arched her dark brow. “Then you should finish yourself off.”

Daindreth breathed deeply. “There is more at stake.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” the woman said. “You have control now, but the moment the cythraul takes over, it will be a horror to put history’s worst butchers to shame.”

Daindreth forced himself to remain calm. Hearing his own worst fears thrown back in his face was almost enough to unman him. Did this woman think him completely selfish? Did she think he didn’t know Caa Iss better than anyone?

He didn’t think they wanted to explain that Amira countered the demon, not yet. But if this woman thought to tell him anything about Caa Iss he didn’t already know, she was wrong. He had lived with the thing in his head for years. He had learned to fight the demon’s impulses and push aside the suggestions.

No one knew the depths of the creature’s depravity as he did. Even Vesha, who might be more familiar with cythraul than anyone else alive, had no idea. If she did know, she would never even consider letting a demon have free reign over her empire. There was no deal, contract, or curse strong enough to restrain the demon’s bloodlust and cruelty.

Caa Iss would find a loophole or gap in the agreement, that was just how he was. Evil such as that couldn’t be deterred by anything short of hellfire.

“That’s why we need to break the curse,” Daindreth said.

“There is no way to break the curse,” the stranger snapped.

“Every curse can be broken,” Amira retorted. “That’s the rule.”

“Yes.” The stranger studied Daindreth for a long moment. “And we all know there’s only one way to break this one.”

At those words, Amira’s tenuous control broke. “Say he needs to die one more time and I will send you back to our mothers in pieces.”

The strange woman dropped her basket. She raised her hands and Daindreth realized in that moment the woman hadn’t fled for her own safety. No, she’d lured them to where there would be no witnesses.

Daindreth watched the stranger’s hand come up and her mouth move in another spell, but as a trained assassin, Amira was faster.

She shoved Daindreth back and her arm came up to block. He didn’t hear the assassin speak, but silence cracked the air, like the pause just before thunder. A wall of power encircled both him and Amira and everything shimmered gold for just an instant.

Then the stranger was blasted backwards, thrown down the end of the alley and rolling end over end in the mud.

Amira rushed toward her and Daindreth followed. He reached for the dagger he had stowed in his boot, but Amira stopped him. “We don’t want to hurt you,” Amira repeated. “We just want—”

The stranger—the sorceress—leapt to her feet and hurled another spell in their direction with a shout.

Amira shouldered Daindreth out of the way and the two of them tumbled into the mud behind a stack of empty crates. A ripple of power whooshed over their heads, but the next moment, Amira was back on her feet and leaping away.

“Amira!”

The assassin cursed loudly and by the time Daindreth scrambled out from around the crates, they were alone in the alley, only the basket and the stranger’s cloak remained behind. Amira kicked at them, using oaths Daindreth hadn’t even heard Thadred use.

“An Istovari sorceress?” Daindreth asked, though it was obvious.

“Yes.” Amira spat on the ground.

“A spy?” Daindreth asked, scanning the back of the alley for any signs of the woman or friends of hers. “How did she get into Lashera? I thought they were banished.”

“They were,” Amira replied, still searching their surroundings.

Done with her cursing, Amira knelt to inspect the contents of the basket. She drew out her dagger and used it to flip aside the cloth covering. She prodded at the basket for a few moments and then reached in with her free hand.

“Spices.” Amira frowned. She pulled out a jar and opened it. “Good ones, too.”

Daindreth kept watch, scanning the alley from all sides. “Do you think she was alone?”

“In the city? Possibly, though it’s unlikely.” Amira muttered another indistinguishable curse under her breath.

“Do you think we’ll be able to persuade them? Your mothers, I mean.”

Amira shrugged. “I’ll figure out something.”

Daindreth watched her as she counted out a number of coins from the bottom of the basket along with a collection of red beads, silver embroidery thread, and a number of odds and ends.

“If that’s the reaction we can expect, I’m not so sure.”

From the way she slammed a small wooden box back into the basket, that was not what Amira wanted to hear. “What would you have me say, Dain?” she demanded, bolting to her feet, hands fisted at her sides.

Daindreth met her fiery stare, not moving for a long moment. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

“We have no other options,” she reminded him. “Aside from the empress, no one in the world even seems to know about the cythraul.”

Daindreth had no argument for that. “We have nothing to bargain with, Amira.”

“We’ll think of something. Amnesty. Restoration to power. Wealth. Land. You’re going to be the bloody emperor!” Amira waved her hands madly in the air.

Looking past her down the alley to where the sorceress had presumably disappeared, Daindreth let out a long breath. “I would give almost anything to be free of this curse.” He looked back to her. “But I wouldn’t give up you.” He shook his head. “And not Thadred.”

Amira closed the distance to him and caught his face in her hands. “We’ll do this,” she whispered, desperation in her voice as she clung to him, her body pressed so tight it was like she was trying to meld into him. “We’ll free you and all will be as it should have been.”

Daindreth slid an arm around her waist, unable to stop himself. “Amira, every curse can be broken, but—”

Amira kissed him. He knew it was only because she didn’t want to hear what he had to say, didn’t want to hear the truth.

Doubts and fears raged in the back of his mind, but he let her push that away with her kisses—even if only for a few moments.

He would do anything for her, anything. He would gladly give his own life for her, but those of innocent people...

That he couldn’t do.

If it came down to it. If his death really was the only way to force Caa Iss back into the abyss, Daindreth would do it. He would take his own life and leave Amira behind...even if doing it broke both their hearts.

Chapter Seven

Amira

Amira fought the urge to charge back to Cromwell’s estate and demand if he had known about the Istovari sorceress in Lashera.

He must have known. How could he not know? The man knew everything.

Back in the warehouse, they found Thadred lying on his back, tossing a wooden block in the air, and catching it with his other hand. He didn’t acknowledge them as they approached.

“What are you doing?” Amira clipped.

“Waiting for you.” Thadred sat up, resting his hands on his knees. He glanced between the two of them. “Something wrong?”

Amira’s mouth tightened as she glanced to Daindreth.

“The Istovari made contact,” Daindreth said.

Thadred cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what we wanted?”

“It wasn’t a good encounter.” Amira folded her arms across her chest.

“No?” Thadred surveyed them both closely, probably looking for signs of damage. “What happened?”

Groaning, Amira dropped onto the planks of the floorboards. She smeared her hands over her face, cursing her mothers, Vesha, the sorceress from the market, Darrigan, Cromwell, King Hyle, and everyone else who came to mind.

Daindreth settled down beside her. “We ran into a sorceress. Presumably Cromwell’s contact. She knew about Caa Iss—or was at least able to pick up on him.”

Thadred’s eyes widened. “She knows who you are?”

Daindreth shrugged, glancing to Amira. “She does.”

“It won’t be long now,” Amira muttered. “They had to have been the ones who warned my father about you.”

“Well.” Thadred considered for a moment. “What does this really change in the long run? We were planning on going to see them anyway.”

Amira buried her face in her hands. In a way, she supposed he was right. The meeting hadn’t gone well, but it hadn’t been necessarily disastrous, either. They hadn’t hurt the sorceress, though Amira might have wanted to.

But still.

“I wanted to meet them on my terms.” Amira straightened. “I don’t know...” She shook her head. “I don’t know anything about them. I don’t know how many survived, who their leader is, where their settlement is located. There were rumors that refugees from other sorceress clans had begun joining them. There could be an army in those hills for all I know.” Amira jerked her chin to the north.

“I still don’t see how anything was changed today.” Thadred shrugged. “We already knew we were starting from the low ground. You didn’t kill or maim anyone, did you?”

“No.”

Thadred glanced between the two of them. “There you have it. Do you think they’ll be hunting us here?”

Amira let off a bitter laugh. How was she supposed to know? She didn’t see what she could do even if the sorceresses did pursue them. She had no way to contact them besides Cromwell and she suspected he wasn’t in their especial good graces, either. She was fumbling in the dark, groping for any semblance of answers. “Possibly. Yes? I don’t know.”

According to the customs of sorceresses, the woman who cast a spell was responsible for the ruin it wrought. Perhaps the Istovari had realized exactly what manner of hell they’d unleashed with Caa Iss. Perhaps they were trying to fix their mistake by killing Daindreth. Amira felt pain in her palms, and she glanced down to find her fists clenched and her nails digging half-moons into her flesh.

“Amira?” Daindreth’s voice broke through her reverie.

“What?” Amira realized they must have called her name more than once.

“We asked if you planned to see Cromwell about this.”

Amira had considered it on their way back to the warehouse. She imagined pinning the man’s hands to his desk with his own letter opener. As tempting as the thought was, her gut told her that Cromwell didn’t control the sorceresses any more than he controlled her.

“No,” Amira answered after a long silence. Amira considered the sorceress’s words, how she had responded to meeting Daindreth. The woman had been able to sense something was off about him.

Reaching out, the assassin could feel nothing different about him herself. His ka was normal, healthy to her senses. When the demon took over him completely, that changed, but for now Amira had no hint as to what might have tipped the woman off. Was it because Amira suppressed the creature?

“Is it still safe to meet with him in two days?” Daindreth asked.

Amira stared up at the rafters of the warehouse, studying the crisscrossed beams. “He’ll do what’s best for Hylendale. The trick is knowing what he thinks that is.”

Thadred grimaced.

“At one point, it was killing you.” Amira looked back to Daindreth. “The moment that couldn’t be done discreetly, it became marrying you to my sister.” Amira paused and swallowed. She didn’t like to remember that now—that Fonra had been first in line.

Daindreth brushed his knuckles along Amira’s cheek, smoothing back the hair that had escaped her braid. It was a small thing, but it said a thousand other things words didn’t have to—he saw she was troubled and he wanted to comfort her.

It was a gift to have someone who could see when she was troubled, who could make it better with a touch. That was no small thing, especially for a woman of nobility, much less in what was still essentially an arranged match.

This thing between them frightened her. When he’d banished her, it had almost destroyed her. But if that was the price of being his...she couldn’t give him up. Couldn’t.

What she had found with Daindreth was precious and to keep it, she’d kill whomever she had to. And if it destroyed her too? Well, that was just a risk she would have to take.

Amira let herself have the luxury of leaning into him for a moment before she continued.

“When you asked for my hand instead of Fonra’s...” Amira left that statement open-ended. The two men could fill in the holes. “Cromwell will seek to appease the empire because Hylendale dares not go against it.”

Thadred nodded, chewing his lip. He shifted his bad leg and tapped the end of his cane against his boot. “Does he know you are Dain’s Kadra’han now?”

“Yes. He doesn’t know I broke the curse, though.” Amira hesitated as soon as she said it. She’d learned a long time ago to never assume what Cromwell did and didn’t know.

Daindreth leaned against the crate at his back with a long exhale. “He’ll be choosing a side—me or my mother.”

Amira nodded, grimacing at the thought. On one hand, it was logical to side with the sole heir. On the other, Vesha held power firmly and there was no sign that would change.

“Does King Hyle know?” Thadred asked. “Is there a way you could reach him? Appeal to him?”

Amira was shaking her head before Thadred finished. “No. He will do as Cromwell advises.” He always did. Always had.

“You’re his daughter,” Thadred said, blinking as if it were obvious.

Amira ground her teeth. “And he was willing to pass me off to a demon without a second thought. You were there.”

Thadred shrugged it off, undeterred. “Never underestimate a father’s guilt.” Ironic, coming from a man whose father had abandoned him.

Amira stiffened, glaring at the knight. “King Hyle has only ever exploited me like any other tool in his arsenal. He’ll keep on—”

“Amira.” Daindreth touched her shoulder, his voice gently easing her from her anger.

Thadred folded his arms across his chest and looked away. “Women,” he muttered.

Amira kicked his bad leg and he cursed.

“Enough, you two,” Daindreth interrupted. He let a beat of silence pass before he spoke again. “Could you force Cromwell to give you the information sooner?”

Oh, how often Amira had wished she could force Cromwell to do things—anything, really. “Cromwell can be unpredictable when cornered. I don’t know what he would do if I pushed him.”

She could kill him. She was fully capable of it. Losing Cromwell might make her father more cooperative, but it also might drive him to tell the empire they were here.

By now, Vesha must not only know where they were headed, but that Amira had become quite powerful as the result of her devotion to Daindreth. The Kadra’han would not underestimate them again.

The assassin exhaled. “We’re racing Vesha’s agents at this point.” Amira’s head throbbed just thinking about it. “She’ll send Kadra’han, I’m guessing.”

“That’s what I expect, too,” Thadred agreed. “Probably five or six.”

Amira shot him a look. “She can spare that many?”

Thadred looked to Daindreth.

The archduke cast Amira a wry look. “My mother has jealously guarded the Kadra’han. She has hundreds of them scattered across the empire. Not all of them as powerful or skilled as Darrigan, to be sure. But they are dangerous, one and all.”

Thadred shook his head. “Most of them are sorcerers,” he added. “Though few are capable of anything like what you can do now.”

Amira shifted at that. Her magic was strong, but chaotic. Ka constantly pulsed through and around her in golden waves, but she couldn’t use most of it. The spells she had learned were mostly for the lower capacity of magic she’d had then. Now that she could channel torrents of the stuff, she didn’t know what to do half the time.

She felt like a child with a ballista. All that power, and she knew she was only using a fraction. She needed to practice more. Test more.

Amira didn’t know what the Istovari sorceress had tried to do with her magic, but she didn’t rightly know what she had done to counter the spell, either. Amira had just seen the blast of ka coming their way and had taken action. She’d gathered her own power around herself and Daindreth in a cocoon, wrapping it as fast and strong as she could. It had been her shadow spell, but without taking the time to wrap shadows into the magic.

Apparently, she could create shields, at least against magic. That would be useful.

“We need to be in the Cursewood by the time Vesha’s agents catch up to us,” Amira said.

Thadred grunted in what might have been agreement or not.

“You don’t make our chances sound promising, my love,” Daindreth remarked.

“They aren’t,” she admitted. “But what choice do we have?” She looked to him, the greyish light from outside casting an ambient glow over his features.

He had a few days of stubble that gave him an unkempt appearance. He looked little like the polished archduke who had arrived in Lashera months ago, but there was still that regal grace and deliberate movement in everything he did. To her, it was obvious he was born for a scepter.

Amira stroked her fingers along the bristle over his jaw. She was used to seeing him clean shaven, but she decided she didn’t mind his more rugged look.

Daindreth smiled at her, sadly, leaning into her touch. “It looks as if choices aren’t our luxury at the moment.”

“No. I don’t...” She took in a deep breath. “Our only hope is that the sorceresses will help us.”

“And if they won’t?” Thadred cleared his throat, glancing between them.

“Then we find sorceresses who will. We’ll travel the continent if we have to. To the Spice Islands or the southern lands. Other lands.” Amira dropped her hand from Daindreth’s face. “I’m not giving up.”

“Me neither,” Thadred shot back. “But we have to consider other options.”

“I’ve just told you our other options.”

“Those don’t sound good.”

“They aren’t,” Amira agreed. “But they’re what we have.”

Thadred groaned and stared up at the rafters. “What’s our plan? Sit here and wait?”

Amira frowned, cocking her head to the side. A golden source of ka tickled the edge of her awareness. It was something fairly large and upright, a human, circling the outside of the warehouse.

Thadred gestured in the air with his cane. “It bears asking. What do you—?”

“Shh!” Amira pulled away from Daindreth, reaching for her dagger. She closed her eyes, concentrating outside the warehouse. The ka source was still there, prowling like a stalking panther.

There were a fair number of urchins and drunks and errand runners who had run past and around the building, but this was different. This ka source stopped every so often, crouched low. Whoever it was, they were taking precautions not to be noticed.

Amira would never have known they were there if she couldn’t sense their life force. “Thadred, did you see or hear anything unusual while we were away?”

Thadred shook his head silently. The knight already had his cane sword at the ready.

Beside her, Daindreth pushed himself up into a crouch. “What do you sense?”

Amira shook her head, frowning. “Someone...”

The unidentified form rose off the ground, higher and higher. It took Amira a moment to realize that they must be climbing the exterior wall. That was impressive. Amira thought she picked up some sort of flaring of ka, but couldn’t be entirely certain. The person might be using magic, or the exertion could be making them burn off more energy.

She muttered curses under her breath, rising to stand. “Someone’s climbing onto the roof.”

Daindreth lowered a hand to help Thadred to his feet. The knight stood at the ready, glancing left and right.

“How many?” Thadred asked.

“Just the one for now.” Amira tracked the ascent of the shape, climbing upward and onto the shingles above. Overhead, there were several holes and patches in the roof. No doubt the stranger would try to have a look inside.

Amira couldn’t do anything about that. She wasn’t sure she could repeat that trick of sending a bolt of ka at the person, certainly not from this distance.

The assassin had only a split second to make her choice. If it was a spy from Vesha, at least Daindreth was wanted alive. If it was one of the Istovari, then the loner probably wouldn’t strike single-handedly.

“This way. Quietly. Leave our bags.” Amira gestured to a space between two large crates.

“What’s the plan?” Thadred asked, even as he stiffly crouched down and hobbled into the crevice.

Daindreth joined him without question, squeezing in beside the knight.

“It’s a scout,” Amira answered. She wedged between the two men, the head of Thadred’s cane digging into her hip.

“Where?”

Amira pointed upwards, to the hole in the roof. She couldn’t see the stranger, but she could sense them. They stayed huddled there for a long time before scurrying across the roof in another direction.

“They’re moving,” Amira muttered. “Scoot back. I need to—”

“Ow!” Thadred hissed.

“Shh! Just let me...” She shoved an arm back behind each of the two men. Thadred jostled against her awkwardly, his cane still digging into her hip. Daindreth fit much more easily against her side, but the cramped space still made it unpleasant.

Breathing deeply, she gathered ka around herself, extending it to Daindreth and Thadred. She imagined the energy as threads and the three of them as the center of a spool.

Concentrating, she wrapped the ka around them again and again until the shadows thickened and darkness fell over all three.

“What—” Thadred choked back an exclamation and fell silent.

Amira felt the scout scurry over the roof for several more minutes. He examined the roof from various angles, then scaled back down.

Neither Thadred nor Daindreth spoke. Amira’s legs ached and her hip throbbed, but she didn’t move. Pressed against her sides, both men remained almost perfectly still.

“Come on, you bastard,” Amira cursed.

“Talking to me?” Thadred quipped.

“That scout isn’t leaving.” Amira added several choice insults. “He’s lingering outside.”

Even Daindreth indulged in a soft curse at that.

“Son of a—” Amira drew the shadows closer around them as the source of ka came closer. “He’s coming inside. Be quiet.”

Amira’s heart pounded and she focused her racing energy into wrapping the shroud of darkness closer around her and the two men.

There was only one of him and against all three of them, he would probably lose. But Amira would rather let him go and think he hadn’t found them than kill him and confirm to Vesha where they were.

She didn’t hear the stranger as he approached. She could feel his presence like a golden throb. As he neared, her heart went to her throat as she recognized a golden band of power burning around his neck.

A Kadra’han.

By that time, she dared not speak. He was too close.

The Kadra’han stepped into view moments later. He was a slim man with a slight build and small frame. He wore the leather and linen armor of an archer, but carried several knives strapped securely across his chest. Amira sensed enchantments on at least three of them. A hood concealed his face, weighed down on his head with moisture. It must have been raining again outside.

Her arms were pinned around Thadred and Daindreth and her knives and dagger tucked in their sheaths. She didn’t see how she could attack with her weapons before the Kadra’han saw and struck first.

He passed in front of them, on his guard, every movement cautious. There was a tension in him that warned he was on high alert.

The Kadra’han studied their gear. He knelt and prodded at their bags. Amira gritted her teeth as he unfastened the tops of the saddlebags and began carefully examining their contents.

How far would she let him take this? He still seemed oblivious to their presence. He had to be a scout. The Kadra’han would never have sent just one of their number after three targets, especially when one of them was a powerful Kadra’han herself.

This man wasn’t an immediate threat. At the same time, anything he might learn about them would only put them at greater risk of being caught.

Amira wracked her brain, thinking.

Voices came from outside the warehouse, probably a group of passersby, but the stranger didn’t know that. He spun around, his whole body coiled ready to spring into action. His hood shifted and Amira’s heart seized for just an instant.

She almost didn’t recognize him. His face was harder than the last time she’d seen him. A pale line interrupted the growth of his stubble just below his cheekbone—a new scar.

Dark, large eyes peered out sharp as paring knives. His rounded face made him appear younger than he was and yet there was a savage, jaded tilt to his mouth.

Iasu.

How long had it been? Seven years? Whenever she had visited Kelamora.

Voices continued outside and Iasu rose, silent as a phantom. On feet swift and noiseless as a fox, he jogged away, disappearing back through the warehouse.

Amira followed his ka until it passed beyond her senses. The voices outside the warehouse continued.

“It’s clear,” Amira said.

The three of them tumbled out from between the crates, groaning.

Amira rubbed at her sore hip and Thadred snarled curses as he flexed his aching leg.

“You knew him,” Daindreth stated.

“Iasu Zhan.” Thadred said it first. “His name is Iasu Zhan.”

Amira shot a sharp look to the knight.

“He’s one of Vesha’s Kadra’han. We trained together in Kelamora. He was bought by her agents when they came to collect me.” Seeing her expression, he added, “You know him, too?”

“Kelamora,” Amira answered with a nod. “How did he find us so soon?”

“He always was an overachiever.” Thadred smacked his cane against one of the crates.

Amira inhaled a deep breath. “The Kadra’han have found us. I think it’s safe to say that much.”

“No shit!” Thadred hissed, barely keeping his voice below a shout.

Daindreth clapped a hand on each of their shoulders. “We need to get out of here, then.”

Amira gnawed on her lip. “If we’d caught that sorceress, she could have shown us the way to the Haven.”

“Yes, because nothing fosters goodwill like hostages,” Thadred quipped. “I thought we wanted the sorceresses to look fondly on us?”

“You have better ideas?”

“Compared to that? It wouldn’t be hard.”

“Enough.” Daindreth interrupted. “Amira, do you think Cromwell betrayed us? Is it still safe to wait for him to find a guide for us?”

Amira shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Cromwell was the only one to call her princess even after her bastardization. At the same time, he was the one who had seen to the annulment of her parents’ marriage. He had looked after her in many ways, but also left her to the wolves in others.

She wasn’t sure if he protected her in order to use her or used her in order to protect her.

“Either way, the Kadra’han know where we are now.” Thadred hobbled to their bags and began lashing their bags back together. “We’ll have to find a new place to wait out the next two days, so let’s get moving.”

Daindreth stepped over to help his cousin, tying one of the bedrolls into a bundle.

Amira’s eye snapped to a low glow in the corner of her awareness. Thadred picked up one of the bags and the glow moved. “Thadred, stop!”

“What?”

“Step back.” She knelt over the bag, recognizing it as one of the ones that Iasu had rifled through earlier. She unlaced the top and shuffled the contents, spare clothes, flint, steel, coil of rope, several other odds and ends.

Finally, she spotted a blue marble, the size of an acorn. She plucked it out and frowned at the threads of ka weaving around it.

The glow was faint, barely perceptible. Amira might have easily mistaken it for a spider or some other small form of life. Whoever had created the enchantment had made it to be stealthy.

“What’s that?” Thadred squinted at the marble.

From the other side of their fire pit, Daindreth stopped. “What did you find?”

Amira held up the marble. “Some kind of spelled object.” She frowned, reaching carefully out to it. “A passive spell. It’s not doing anything at the moment.” Letting off a sigh, she leaned back on her heels. “A tracker, if I had to guess.”

Daindreth was quiet for a moment, looking to his cousin. “Well, good thing you caught it.”

Thadred cursed heartily, including Iasu, Darrigan, and the whole of the Kadra’han order in his profanities.

Amira’s frown deepened. “Iasu has magic.”

Amira hesitated, mind spinning. Years of service to the crown should have given Iasu at least some magical power. Men tended to be less powerful than women and a Kadra’han’s curse took up a good portion of magic for most of them. Male Kadra’han were rarely more than minor sorcerers, Darrigan being an exception.

Still.

“He should have sensed us,” Amira realized. “Our ka. That close, he should have been able to tell that we were between the crates.”

Thadred considered that for just a moment. “You’re right.”

Amira’s heart raced with excitement despite the fact they had been found. “That spell I cast...” She wasn’t sure she could even call it a spell. She’d just focused on weaving ka and shadow around them as thick as she could. “I hid our ka.”

“Huh,” Thadred said.

“What does that mean?” Daindreth asked

“Your girl hid us from a sorcerer,” Thadred nodded to Amira. “With the empress setting her sorcerers on us, that could come in useful.”

Amira’s heart sped as she considered the implications. She hadn’t known she could do that, but then again, she’d never been powerful enough to try.

If she could hide herself from sorcerers, she could get close to Darrigan without him knowing. She could get close to the Istovari, perhaps even her mother.

She held up the spelled orb, pinching it between two fingers. “Let’s toss this in a caravan wagon and find somewhere else to hide,” she muttered, pocketing the marble for now. “I have an idea.”

Chapter Eight

Daindreth

Daindreth spent most of the night scouring the city with Amira, but there was no sign of the sorceress from earlier that day.

By the time Daindreth and Amira stumbled back to where they’d stashed Thadred, the sky was already paling with the dawn. Since the warehouse was compromised, they’d holed up in the loft of a carriage house connected to what appeared to be a respectable merchant’s home. By all appearances, no one was in residence, so they set up between boxes of tack, horseshoes, leather oil, extra carriage wheels, and various odds and ends.

“There you are.” Thadred hurled a wooden doorknob in Daindreth’s direction the moment he emerged at the top of the ladder.

Daindreth deflected it with an arm. “You’re in a fine mood this morning.” Daindreth stepped aside as Amira climbed up after him.

Thadred grumbled incoherently. At the sight of Amira, his gaze sharpened. “Well?”

“Nothing.” Amira peeled off her gloves and slapped them into one hand. “Not a sign of the sorceress. Or Iasu.”

Thadred guffawed. “That’s half good news, I suppose. At least you weren’t attacked.”

Amira pulled off her cloak and tossed it over the back of a chair—or what had once been one. The seat was missing. “If there’s a snake in my bed, I’d like to know where.” She set to unbuckling her own set of weapons, flexing her neck and shoulders as she did. “Iasu is here, and he won’t be fooled long by that misdirected bauble.”

Daindreth watched her, his brow furrowed. “There’s one place we didn’t search for the sorceress last night.”

“Where?”

Daindreth held her stare for a moment. “The palace itself.”

Amira’s face paled just a little before she shook her head. “No, my father wouldn’t harbor a sorceress.”

“Just like he wouldn’t try to assassinate an archduke?” Daindreth hadn’t meant for that to come out as wry-sounding as it did.

Amira shot him a frown but shook her head. “Not a sorceress, but maybe Iasu.” She chewed her lip. “The sorceress must have already left the city.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Amira snapped, pulling off her boots, then her stockings. She wiggled her bare toes against the floor. “My father will know that Vesha is hunting us. Vesha is an enemy of the Istovari. That has never been in doubt. He won’t ally himself with them now.”

“If you say so,” Daindreth shrugged, but he was still not convinced. There had to have been a way that King Hyle had learned of Caa Iss. Besides Vesha, her Kadra’han, and those closest to Daindreth, no one had known but the Istovari.

It seemed the only rational explanation.

“Everyone hates us,” Thadred grumbled. “The more we learn, the more it seems that the world is in one great conspiracy to swyve us all.”

Neither Amira nor Daindreth offered an argument for that.

Daindreth pulled off his own boots, wrinkling his nose. He hadn’t bathed in almost two weeks, since before leaving Mynadra. This was probably the greasiest and filthiest he had been since rolling in mud pits with Thadred as a boy.

“Do you think there’s any food in the house of our unwilling host?” Thadred asked.

Amira shrugged. “Probably.”

“Hmm.” The knight stood, flexing his neck from left to right. “I’ll go check that, then. Do you think the doors are unlocked?”

“They are now,” Amira said.

Daindreth shot her a look.

“What?” she asked, innocently. “I took a look around last night. All the furniture is covered, and the fireplace has been emptied. We can probably stay at least a day or two before anyone comes back.”

“Good.” Thadred moved toward the ladder.

The ladder had been Thadred’s primary complaint regarding Amira’s choice of hideout, but he grabbed the rungs and set to stepping down them one at a time, hindered even more by holding his cane in one hand. “I can’t tell you how dull it is to be left behind,” Thadred shouted up at them. “You two, abandoning me like a sick girl.”

“Perhaps you’d like to come jumping rooftops,” Daindreth shot back, raising his hand so Thadred could see a dried scab across his palm. Daindreth had several others on his right knee and a bruised rib, but it could have been worse—much worse.

Thadred stopped with nothing but his head showing above the hole in the floor. “What happened to you?”

Daindreth shrugged. “Amira was teaching me to use the rooftops.”

Thadred turned an accusing glare to Amira. “You what?”

Amira faced Thadred so that Daindreth couldn’t see her expression. “What? I won’t coddle him.”

“If, after all this, he dies because he falls off a roof—”

“He won’t,” Amira snapped. “I know what I’m doing.”

Thadred let off a laugh barbed with sarcasm. “That’s what we’re all counting on, isn’t it?” The knight eked his way down the remainder of the stairs, limping out of sight.

Daindreth shucked off his leather outer vest just as he began to hear Thadred’s three-beat stride below, heading toward the main house. He glanced over to Amira and stopped.

She had removed her knives and coat and sat crossed legged on the ground. Amira had unfastened the end of her braid and worked at the ends with a comb, pulling the locks free.

The strands of her hair caught the early morning sunlight, making them glow copper and gold in the rays. He studied the way they caught the sun, thinking of how he would describe it when he could write again—threads of fire? A mane of fire in place of a crown?

An image came to mind then, one of her draped over his bed in Mynadra with the early morning sunlight playing over her naked body, smirking from under a golden circlet encrusted with rubies.

“I would like to see you in a crown,” Daindreth said, surprising himself a little.

Amira paused, shooting him a sideways glance. “A crown?”

“Yes.” He watched as the play of light continued through her hair.

“You’ve seen me in a crown before,” Amira replied, tone curious.

“I know,” he said, then swallowed.

Last night when they had wandered the city, her guard had been up. She had become the assassin, the hunter, bent on protecting and killing.

Now, her armor was down, showing the woman underneath.

“I love you, Amira,” Daindreth said quietly. “I know I say it often, but...I mean it. I look forward to when we can marry.”

Amira’s hands paused, the comb still in her hair. A slight smile curled the corner of her mouth. “And what do you plan to do then?”

Daindreth laughed at the glint in her eyes. “I’m not talking about just that.”

“I know.” Amira went back to pulling her comb through her hair. “But that’s what I want to hear about.”

“I don’t think we should talk about that when Thadred’s not here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t talk about it with him here,” Amira quipped.

Daindreth laughed. “Amira, you know what I meant.”

“Yes.” Amira sighed. “Yes, I know.”

He already thought about it often enough and he could see that she did, too. Talking about it would only increase the danger. And even if Caa Iss hadn’t been crouching inside his skull, he didn’t want to bed her for the first time in a stranger’s barn.

Daindreth stretched out on his bedroll, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. He studied the cobwebs overhead, wondering how many generations of spiders it had taken to build them.

“I don’t just think about sex, you know,” Amira said. “I think about it a lot, but not only that.”

Daindreth almost laughed again.

“What? You’re the romantic between the two of us.”

“What are you thinking about now, Amira? Besides sex?” He expected her to turn to the topic of the Kadra’han in the city or the unknown Istovari sorceress. She certainly seemed to have given them plenty of thought.

“I want to build a dynasty with you.” Amira’s voice was quiet, steady. He wondered if she didn’t sound shy saying the words.

Daindreth rolled onto his elbow to look at her. “What do you mean?”

Amira set down her comb. By now, her hair was in loose strands of red below her shoulders. She hesitated. “I want the Erymayan Empire to last for an age,” she said. “I want the House of Fanduillion to reign for a thousand years. I want your name inscribed on every page of history as the emperor who built a legacy to outshine even the most loved hero that came before.”

Daindreth watched her. For a moment, he could imagine it. For just a few heartbeats, he convinced himself that what she was describing would happen. Their dynasty—daughters with her hair and sons with his eyes, each of them powerful, good, and loved by the empire. Grandchildren, and great-grandchildren racing through the gardens of Mynadra, playing beneath statues of him and Amira long after their bodies had been laid to rest in the imperial mausoleum.

He imagined scholars, sorcerers, statesmen, and strategists coming from their blood. The House of Fanduillion, which had come so close to dying out, becoming a power to reshape the world yet again. This time for the better.

He was the last of his father’s line, but Amira could give him children, heirs. Greater than that, she could give him legacy. It was the greatest gift he could imagine.

She swallowed and looked away. “You’re a good man, Daindreth. You will be a great emperor.”

“The empire could crumble because of what we’re doing.” He’d thought about this a great deal. Even if Caa Iss’s threats and claims were false, the division between him and Vesha could lead to civil war.

“Then we rebuild it,” Amira said flatly.

“How?” Daindreth arched one eyebrow. “Do I have the right to rule these people? More than half of our vassal kings were conquered by my father, bent before him at the end of a sword.”

“And how do you think those kings became kings?” Amira countered. “The same way your father did.”

“If the empire breaks apart as Caa Iss says it will, if they want to rule themselves—”

“People are too foolish to rule themselves,” Amira continued. “Too selfish. Too cruel.” She added that last sentence in a low voice. “Is something right because the majority approves it? No. I’ve seen a mob tear apart a twelve-year-old boy because he was raped by a priest. They said he’d made the priest stumble.” Amira’s lip curled and her voice went quiet. “A few days later, that priest was found dead in his bath. Assumed drowning. The few who had objected to the boy’s murder said it was divine justice.”

Silence bled between them. Amira toyed with the comb in her hands and Daindreth watched her, not sure what to say for a long space of time.

“You can’t think that all people are like that.”

She looked up. “But they are, Daindreth.” She shook her head. “My mothers will boast of their goodness to any who will listen, but then they leave little girls to die alone for the sake of their spells and infect little boys with demons.”

“What makes us different, Amira?” Daindreth asked, careful to keep his voice gentle. “How are we better than them?”

“Would you have allowed that?” Amira shot back. “Any of the things I just named?”

Daindreth bit his lip. He didn’t think so, but it felt as if she was making him out to be infallible. He didn’t like it.

“People like us, we were born to rule. We have a duty to rule.”

“To save people from themselves?” Daindreth sighed.

“If need be.”

“I have read about nations across the sea, where they have no kings or emperors. Where the people are led by those who are chosen among them, selected by the demos. Everyone has a voice.”

Amira rolled her eyes. “I’ve been to those countries and it’s no different than here when you get to the roots. Leaders end up getting chosen from the gentry anyway. It’s nobility and aristocracy by another name.”

“But they have no king.”

“No,” Amira conceded. “And it works for them—most of the time. But there is a reason we have leaders instead of mob rule. People cannot rule themselves.”

“There has to be balance, Amira. Some way to prevent something like my mother happening again. Her decisions have possibly put the entire empire under a curse.”

Amira began rebraiding her hair, shoulders stiff, not looking fully in his direction. “Not even Vesha rules alone. She has to answer to the barons, viceroys, counts, kings, and marquesses from across the empire.”

“But her deal with Moreyne—”

“Anyone could have made it,” Amira insisted.

“But she had the authority, Amira.” Daindreth shook his head. “I don’t believe that any fishwife or farmer could have made the deal that she did. They wouldn’t have had the authority. Demons care about that sort of thing.” Daindreth rubbed a hand over his face.

“What do you mean?”

Daindreth didn’t answer right away. “Are mudslides common in Hylendale?”

Amira let a few beats of silence pass before she said, “They happen from time to time near the mountains. Usually in the spring when the snows melt.”

“But that big?” Daindreth grimaced. “That catastrophic?”

Amira shook her head. “You can’t possibly think that was your fault.”

“I don’t know what to think, Amira. All I know is that natural disasters—true disasters—have been mostly unheard of in the empire.”

“We have had mild weather.”

“For a little over ten years straight?” Daindreth shook his head. “Hurricanes have broken apart before they reached our coasts. Wildfires have died out. Rain has never come enough to cause major floods or too little to cause drought.”

Amira shook her head vehemently. “That can’t be it.”

“I don’t know for sure, but I know it’s unusual, and...” He inhaled and exhaled again before he continued. “I know what Caa Iss has said to me.”

“You can’t trust a demon.”

“You’re right.” Daindreth leaned back onto his bedroll, smearing his hands over his face. “I can’t. But nor can I ignore what’s happening.”

“Why are you saying this?” Amira shook her head.

Daindreth hesitated, then steeled himself. He’d been a coward long enough. It was time to tell her. “When we were entering the city and you were away from me...” he began slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Caa Iss told me that Vesha made a deal with the cythraul. One to guarantee fair weather, health, and prosperity across the empire. He told me that since Vesha is no longer able to keep her end, the deal is off, and that the empire will begin to suffer all the misfortune that the deal prevented.”

Amira stiffened. “He’s a demon. You can’t trust him.”

“Yes,” Daindreth agreed. “But we have seen evidence that it’s true.”

“It was one mudslide,” Amira argued. “A tragedy, an awful tragedy, but one mudslide.”

Daindreth stared at the ceiling. “I hope you’re right.”

“Even if it’s true, you aren’t causing these things,” Amira said. “Vesha just delayed fate and now we have to pay for the borrowed time.”

Daindreth wasn’t sure if that was how it worked or not, but Amira had a pragmatic, less complicated way of looking at the world. “What if this keeps happening?” Daindreth asked. “What if more mudslides kill more people? Plagues? Droughts? Floods?” The archduke exhaled. “How can we let those people suffer?”

Amira didn’t respond. He heard her moving as she arranged their weapons and checked this and that. Probably the spells she’d placed around the villa to warn them if someone came.

“I wonder if there will ever be a day without emperors,” Daindreth whispered. “I wonder if there will ever be a day when we no longer need rulers.”

“As long as there are people, they will need rulers. Whether we call them emperors, sheiks, chieftains, priests, or senators—we will always need rulers.”

“It’s just so heavy,” Daindreth whispered. “At times, I can feel the weight of millions of lives pressing down on me. Like it’s going to crush me.” Even as he spoke, he could almost feel the squeezing sensation against his chest, weighing him down. “How can anyone bear this burden?”

Her footsteps came closer, soft and quiet. She knelt over him, one hand braced beside his head. “You don’t have to bear it alone. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.” She was close, deliciously close. “You have Thadred and me. And we’ll find others. Others who will stand by you.”

Daindreth thought a moment of Taylan—his friend, confidante, and in many ways his mentor. The old valet was dead. Killed by Vesha for siding with Daindreth.

Amira had almost been killed that same night and now they were both on the run with Thadred. It was dangerous for others to side with him. Was his life really worth theirs?

“You will be a great emperor, Daindreth. Greater than anything this world has seen.” Amira sounded so certain, as if she were describing something that had already happened, something that was guaranteed.

“How do you know?” he whispered. “How can you be so sure?”

“I know it,” Amira answered, her voice soft. “I know it, my love.”

Daindreth studied her face with her full lips, large eyes, and her pale neck. He wanted to tangle his hands in her hair while he kissed a line from her jaw to her collarbone. Instead, he rested a hand on her side, over the two parallel scars—one from his guards she’d taken the night they met and one from Darrigan when she had come to rescue Daindreth from the palace. He brushed his knuckles along her throat.

The curse left no outward marks, but Daindreth knew well enough about the strangling pain a Kadra’han’s curse inflicted on them. Amira had endured all that, overcome it, and dominated it—for him.

“I hope to one day repay all the faith and loyalty you offer me,” he said. “Somehow.”

Amira smiled. “You can start by making me your empress. If you don’t tire of me.”

“That’s on the agenda as soon as...” Daindreth trailed off. When they had set out from Mynadra, ridding him of the demon had seemed so possible, such a hopeful idea.

After their disappointing first meeting with the Istovari sorceress, now he wasn’t so certain.

Amira leaned down and kissed his neck. Her lips brushed the stubble along his throat and jaw, teasing, toying. His hand tightened on her side and his arm went tense, ready to push her away as much as he wanted to pull her closer.

“Amira.” He barely recognized his own voice. “Stop. Please.”

She pulled away from him. Her expression was hard to read. “Am I not allowed to want something?” she asked, her voice soft, but firm.

“Amira, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know.” Amira withdrew then, turning away from him. “I’m sorry.”

Daindreth wanted to tell her not to be sorry, but admitting how much he enjoyed her, ached for her, longed for her...

Did she have any idea how much she tortured him? Did she do it on purpose or did she really have no clue?

He watched Amira lie down on her own bedroll with her back to him. After a few minutes, her breathing leveled, but tired as he was, it was much longer before Daindreth was able to sleep.

Chapter Nine

Amira

Amira and Daindreth crouched in a shadow of the wall circling the house opposite Cromwell’s. Daindreth waited close at her back, his breathing steady and quiet, watching their flank.

Amira wasn’t sure that bringing Daindreth had been a good idea, but this was the option she hated the least.

They’d left the carriage house when the first roosters had begun crowing, leaving behind a grumbling Thadred. The journey far more dangerous this time. Not only did she have Daindreth in tow, but Cromwell would know they were coming. She only hoped she’d kept him waiting long enough that any ambush he might have set for her would be exhausted and sloppy.

Even though she could sense ka better than ever, Amira still couldn’t keep track of every source and flicker of power that came in her direction.

They waited and waited until the windows of Cromwell’s house flung open and the smudged faces of several maids appeared to dump washing water into the street. Smoke huffed from the kitchen chimneys and Amira yawned. They probably had another few hours before Cromwell appeared.

Amira caught a glimpse of a woman in a grey dress and thought it was Livian, Cromwell’s wife, but she couldn’t be sure.

Livian was a pallid woman who had been born with a vein or two of noble blood and a respectable merchant for a father. She had already been three years a widow by the time she married Cromwell despite being thirteen years younger. Cromwell was the son of a country blacksmith who’d worked his way up to become a soldier and then a lawyer. He had wanted the connections of her family and she had wanted children.

Cromwell had risen through the ranks of politics and ascended to advise the king himself. Livian had withdrawn more and more into the house that seemed increasingly small in comparison to her husband’s stature. Where she had once been far above his station, it now seemed that he was far above hers. Perhaps that was why they still lived in the same townhouse with a garden and a four-horse stable—despite being wealthy enough to afford far more.

Daindreth watched the Cromwell estate and their surroundings in turn, as she had instructed him. His short hair had gotten longer, and he had the beginnings of a beard. Despite that, he still carried himself straight and tall, like an archduke. He looked and acted the part, but did he want it?

She’d never considered herself ambitious, but after her conversation with Daindreth yesterday morning...

Would their differing opinions drive a wedge between them as it had for Cromwell and his wife?

Amira had gotten her hopes up for a happy marriage these past months, but what if...what if they were not as compatible as she had begun to believe?

A few hours after sunrise, their patience was rewarded. The gates creaked open and out rolled a black carriage with the driver and one of Cromwell’s apprentices seated in the front and another apprentice perched on the back.

“It looks like a hearse,” Daindreth muttered.

“That’s Cromwell for you. Come.” Amira rose as the carriage passed in front of them.

The horses moved at a steady trot, carefully navigating their way through the streets and potholes in the cobblestones. It wasn’t difficult to keep pace on foot.

“On their way to the palace?” Daindreth asked.

“Probably. At some point.” She kept the black carriage in sight as it rounded another corner.

They followed Cromwell to the front steps of a large building with bars over the windows. The bars had been decorated with scrollwork and vines, but they were still bars.

“That’s the Taredicci Bank,” Amira explained to Daindreth. “Their Lashera depository, anyway.”

“A foreign depository?” Daindreth asked, somewhat incredulously. Out front, there were already lines of people waiting to enter.

Amira shrugged. “They’re good for trade.”

The apprentice on the back of the carriage stepped off and stuck his head into the carriage window. He exchanged several words with the figure inside then jogged up the steps alone.

Amira nudged Daindreth. “Stay close.”

The archduke followed her lead as they melted into the crowd, moving with the flow of traffic.

Amira sidled up to the carriage, moving calmly. She first made sure that Cromwell was the only source of ka inside, then slipped the door open.

Cromwell’s gaze jerked up from a stack of papers he had been reading by the light of the overhead window. His hand dropped to his side, probably to retrieve a knife or dagger, but Amira showed him her open palm, pushing back the hood of her cloak.

“It’s me.”

Cromwell stared at Amira over the rim of his spectacles as she settled herself on the bench across from him, then gestured for Daindreth to follow.

The archduke slipped in after her and shut the door.

Cromwell eyed Daindreth, even as his right hand remained at his side. It took a heartbeat, but then his brows rose as recognition flitted across his face.

“Master Cromwell?” one of the apprentices called from the front. “Sir, I thought I saw—”

“As you were, Liam,” Cromwell shouted, adjusting his stack of papers.

Amira crossed her legs, bouncing her foot as she studied the lawyer in front of her.

“Your Highness,” Cromwell said drily, appraising Daindreth from head to foot. “It’s good to see you well.”

“Cromwell,” Daindreth said, his voice taking on the polished tone he used at court. “It’s a pleasure. Since our last meeting, my fiancée has told me so much about you.”

Cromwell shot a brief glance to Amira, but she caught it. He was unsettled though he was doing a good job hiding it. Cromwell didn’t like being surprised. He certainly wasn’t used to it.

Daindreth spoke again, “I understand that you have agreed to help my Kadra’han secure information I want.” He tilted his head to the side. “Your aid is appreciated.”

“Indeed, Your Highness.” Cromwell set his papers aside. He didn’t remove his hand from the concealed weapon at his side, but he canted his head ever so slightly.

Amira had told Daindreth to deal with Cromwell as he would any other dubiously loyal noble. He might need practice being an outlaw, but Daindreth was a natural at being a prince.

“These past few months have shown me the true value of loyalty,” Daindreth said. “I prize it highly. Even more so now.”

“Understandable, my lord,” Cromwell replied. “Is this information all that you would ask of me?” he said after a moment.

“That and your discretion,” Daindreth said.

Daindreth’s appearance had thrown the lawyer off more than Amira herself could have. Cromwell understood Amira, he’d trained her in many ways, after all. But Daindreth?

He only knew the archduke from brief meetings and stories of a monster that lived beneath the man’s skin. Cromwell was no coward, but he been born in Hylendale when the Istovari sorceresses were at the height of their power. He had fought in the Plague Wars across the sea, where sorcerers and sorceresses of unimaginable power had used curses to devastate the enemy ranks. Rumor had it that Cromwell still bore scars from one such attack.

Cromwell would not underestimate a man who served as vessel to a curse.

“Why did you and King Hyle try to have me assassinated?” Daindreth’s tone was cool, cultured. The skills of courtly etiquette translated rather into interrogation—both centered on bluffing and hiding one’s true motives.

Cromwell looked the archduke square in the eye as he answered. “We both know why, don’t we?”

“You were still eager enough to give me the princess,” Daindreth said.

Cromwell shrugged. “Hylendale cannot stand against the empire. We are not so foolish as that, but we saw the chance to protect our future interests. Perhaps even the interests of the world. So, we did what we could. When we failed,” his eyes flitted to Amira for just a moment, “we gave you what you wanted and hoped you would leave. And you did.”

“You’re in contact with the Istovari.” It was not a question. Daindreth’s tone remained cordial. “You knew of the curse on my house. Only the Istovari and my own inner circle know of it.” Daindreth’s tone hardened, and Amira didn’t think it was entirely for show. “You have the voices of the sorceresses in your ear. Or the king does. We met your friend in the market.”

Amira and Daindreth had both agreed that the sorceress had to have been Cromwell’s contact. Her appearance had been too coincidental, unless there were really dozens of sorceresses randomly wandering Hylendale—which wasn’t impossible, but seemed unlikely.

Amira watched the two men with increased respect. She’d never seen Cromwell set back on his heels. Daindreth was good at this.

For what was probably the first time in a very long time, Cromwell was meeting someone without an arsenal of knowledge about them. Cromwell couldn’t know for sure what game this was, who was really in command of the empire—Vesha or Daindreth or the demon who dwelt inside Daindreth. Cromwell probably didn’t even know the full nature of the archduke’s curse.

What if Daindreth could transform into a beast and rip the entire city square apart right there?

Cromwell took several beats to respond. “Friend is a generous word,” he said. “But if you met her, then I imagine she has already given her response to your request.”

“I have business with those sorceresses,” Daindreth said. “If this woman will not speak with me, I will speak with her leaders directly. Even in their own stronghold, if necessary.”

Cromwell shook his head. “You won’t get through the Cursewood.” His voice was soft. “None of the empire’s scouting parties have. Only a willing Istovari sorceress can show the way through.”

Amira cocked her head, raising one eyebrow.

“No, not even you,” Cromwell said. “One that knows the spells. One who has been through the Cursewood before.” He returned his attention to Daindreth. “That forest is thick with poisonous plants and monsters beyond your greatest imaginings. Ever since the war, the Cursewood’s magic has worked on the living things under its shadow. It’s haunted by mutants and not the small, harmless kind like the spruce finches.”

Amira scoffed. “I’m not afraid of my mothers’ horrors.”

Cromwell kept his attention on Daindreth. “Do you mean to go yourself? They will kill you on sight if you do.”

Daindreth didn’t speak. He watched Cromwell silently, studying the other man with a pensive, pondering stare.

Cromwell looked to Amira then. “You should have been queen of Hylendale,” he said. “I would have found a way if you had stayed.”

Amira shook her head. “Don’t lie,” she said through clenched teeth. “Don’t lie to me, Cromwell. Don’t you dare—”

“It’s true,” he interrupted. “Fonra was going to be empress. We needed our own ruler if we wanted to avoid becoming a powerless protectorate. No offense, Your Highness,” he added that last part to Daindreth.

“You removed me from succession,” Amira clipped. “You had me declared a bastard. You were the one who suggested that I be bound by a Kadra’han’s curse!”

“Every curse can be broken.” Cromwell inclined his head toward Daindreth. “And look how simple it was to declare you legitimate again.”

Amira’s nostrils flared. “Don’t try to—”

Daindreth touched her knee and she fell silent, though she didn’t take her eyes off Cromwell.

“I need to speak with the Istovari sorceresses,” Daindreth said. “How they choose to greet me is their business.”

Cromwell watched the pair of them. Amira had the familiar feeling that Cromwell was moving pieces of the board she didn’t even know existed. He glanced to the front steps of the depository where his apprentice’s feathered cap was visible in the throng of people, shoving in their direction. Finally, he spoke. “My friend as you called her, is named Sairydwen.”

“How do we find her again?” Daindreth’s courtly façade wavered, and his impatience showed as he studied the lawyer.

“She’s found you,” Cromwell replied. “She found the townhouse where you were staying.”

Cold chills slid down Amira’s spine at that. Her pulse quickened and she instantly reached out with her own ka, searching for any sign of spells or a sorcerous attack.

The apprentice was close now, perhaps a few seconds away.

“You might be able to reason with her. You might not. But if you can’t convince her to help you, you’ll never convince the mothers.” Cromwell looked to Amira. “You were born for a crown. One way or another.” He inhaled. “Don’t throw away your destiny. They’ll understand why you have to do this.”

It took Amira a moment to understand. He thought she was still bound by the curse, a helpless executor to whatever commands Daindreth gave. He thought she was helping Daindreth because she had to.

That meant that the Istovari must think the same. She might be able to use that to her advantage, somehow, but just now—

“You should hurry,” Cromwell said as his apprentice’s eyes widened at the sight of two strangers seated across from his master. “Sairydwen will have taken your friend hostage by now.”

“What?” Amira jerked forward and reached out to grab Cromwell by the neck.

“Amira, stand down!” Daindreth ordered.

She remembered at the last second to obey, hands fisting at her sides, nostrils flaring. “You betrayed us.” You betrayed me.

Cromwell shook his head. “She’s strong, Lady Amira. She may be able to help you.”

Amira could feel Cromwell meant her curse, not Daindreth’s, when he said that.

“One more thing,” he said, speaking in measured, if hasty, tones. “Imperial agents arrived here several days ago, and they are watching all of the city gates.”

Amira gulped, not sure what she expected, but surprised just the same.

“Go,” Cromwell said to the both of them. “You don’t have much time. But I will leave the collie gate open tonight.”

Daindreth opened the carriage door and filed out first. Amira leapt after him and the pair were racing away before Cromwell’s driver and apprentices had time to ask who they were.

Amira dragged Daindreth around a corner, heart pounding with fear, anger, and frustration. Cromwell had known all along. He must have alerted this Sairydwen and she had found them the day before yesterday.

“Cromwell serves the Istovari?” Daindreth asked, one hand on her shoulder.

“I guess so.” She searched every corner and angle for any sign of attack, either from a sorceress or a Kadra’han. Yet there was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to suggest that anyone in their surroundings was anything but what they appeared.

“Thadred,” Daindreth said. “We have to get to Thadred.”

Amira grabbed his arm to stop him. “She could be ahead of us. She could be waiting—”

“What are you suggesting?” Daindreth demanded. “That we leave him?”

“No, I—”

“We’re going back for my cousin,” Daindreth said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He was almost shouting as he continued. “I’ve deferred to you up until now, but we’re not leaving him.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that, I’m just saying...” Amira shook her head. “No, we...we have to approach carefully. If she knows we’re coming, she could panic. That wouldn’t end well for any of us.”

Daindreth closed his eyes, mouth tight. “What are you suggesting?”

“Try not to warn her, if we can.”

Daindreth hesitated, stance rigid, jaw tight. He shook his head slightly, then stopped, as if changing his mind on something. “Lead the way.”

Amira stepped in front of him and broke into a jog. She retraced their steps back toward the townhouse, mind awhirl with a hundred possibilities and eventualities.

The Istovari had caught up with them. She wondered how long it would be before the Kadra’han closed in, too.

Chapter Ten

Daindreth

The town house appeared quiet and peaceful and as deserted as the first time they’d approached it. Daindreth didn’t dare believe it actually was.

Amira moved ahead of him, her every movement controlled, careful, and calculated—a predator on the hunt.

The assassin crouched in the shadow of a garden wall across the street from their chosen hideout. She grimaced, studying the shuttered windows and locked doors.

“What is it?” he asked quietly. “Can you sense anything?”

Amira grimaced. “It’s hard, from this distance with so many other people around.” She waved in the air. “But...there’s at least one person in there. Alive.”

Relief washed over Daindreth, but it quickly faded as he realized only one person could be terrible news.

“This way.” Amira waved him after her.

They crossed the street to the townhouse, keeping close together while Daindreth watched their backs.

They slipped in through the servants’ entrance where Amira had broken the lock two days before. Close on her heels, Daindreth mouthed a few silent prayers for Thadred as well as for himself and Amira.

Sometimes, it was hard to know if the gods favored them or not.

They checked the carriage house first. It was empty with no sign of Thadred save for the bags and bedrolls they’d left behind. Thadred’s cane was missing, but there was no sign of a struggle.

Thadred must have left the loft of his own volition.

Amira led Daindreth on a circuit of the townhouse while she checked the hedges and walls, searching quietly.

They had to walk through rose trellises to keep close to the wall and Daindreth almost knocked over a birdbath decorated with a religious frieze of Eponine. Daindreth caught the birdbath and trotted after Amira.

The assassin studied the walls of the townhouse, her brow furrowed. “Two people,” she corrected herself. “One seated, one standing. Near the landing of the second floor. If I’m remembering the layout right.”

Daindreth studied the sheer stone before them, brows rising. “You can tell all that from here?”

Amira shrugged. “Ka can bleed through stone.” She hesitated as she said that, then gestured for him to follow her.

“Will Sairydwen know we’re here?” Daindreth asked, the strange name catching on his tongue.

“Probably. If it is her.”

“Iasu?”

Amira shook her head. “Not Iasu.”

Daindreth wasn’t sure how she knew but took her word for it.

“She’s in a good spot. We can’t approach without being seen. I can’t think of how...” She trailed off.

“What if I went in and tried to speak with her?”

Amira’s eyes widened. “No.”

“You could come in from behind her, then.”

“You want to use yourself as bait? Absolutely not.” Amira shook her head. “I won’t allow it.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“We wait. She has to come out eventually and then—”

“Then what?” Daindreth cast Amira a hard look. “We just wait until she gets bored? Until the Kadra’han find us?”

Amira gnashed her teeth, glaring at him.

“We can do this, Amira,” Daindreth said. “She doesn’t want to kill me.”

“You’re so sure?” Amira snapped. “She seemed eager enough to attack back in the market.

“She doesn’t.” Daindreth looked up to the second level, where Amira said that the sorceress waited. “She wants to talk to me. Why else would she have waited for us alone? She wants us to approach.”

“Exactly. There could be traps. Spells. Any manner of—”

“Do you sense spells?”

“Around her and Thadred, yes.”

“On the house?”

Amira’s fists clenched and unclenched at her sides. “Just because I can’t find them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

“Alright then.” Daindreth straightened. “She wants to talk, or so I’m going to assume. I want to speak with her, too, so it works out.”

Amira grabbed his arm. “Daindreth, you can’t just waltz in there with a cornered sorceress! You can’t play by her rules or meet on her terms.”

“She has Thad,” Daindreth shot back. “I’m willing to meet her on whatever terms she wants.”

“Dain—” Amira’s hand tightened on his sleeve. “We don’t know what she wants. We don’t know how she plans to do this. We could—”

“Amira.” Daindreth caught her shoulders. “You know as well as I that if the sorceress found us, the Kadra’han won’t be far behind.”

Amira bit her lip and looked away.

“That’s what I thought.” He kissed her forehead. She was stiff and rigid in his arms, and he half expected her to push him away. “I’ll see what she wants. Maybe we can convince her to help us find our way into the Cursewood and to the mothers.”

“She won’t,” Amira snapped.

Daindreth ignored her skepticism. “I need you to cover me from one of the windows. Can you do that?”

“Can I?” she sniffed.

Daindreth almost chuckled despite himself. “I know you can.”

Amira jerked her chin. “Go. Give me about three minutes and I can be in through one of the windows.”

Daindreth nodded. “Thank you.”

“Keep an eye out for an ambush. If I can hide our ka, it’s possible other sorcerers can do that, too. There might be more of them in there that I can’t see.”

Daindreth looked over Amira. He hadn’t thought of that. “Will she sense you? Your ka, I meant.”

Amira shook her head and stepped away from him. As she walked toward the back of the house, shadows rose up from under the gardenias and under the eaves of the windows. They slithered after her like black ribbons, wrapping around her in a shroud of shadow.

Daindreth blinked a few times, not sure if his eyes were deceiving him, but no. His fiancée had just melted into shadows in broad daylight.

He’d never forgotten she was a sorceress, but sometimes she still surprised him. Sometimes he did forget that she was descended of the women who had mastered nature itself. She was less than a goddess, but certainly more than a mere mortal.

Daindreth turned and made his way to the front of the house. Tension coiled through him as his heart beat a sharp staccato.

He made his way to the back entrance of the townhouse, the one that Amira had wiggled open to let them pillage the pantry.

Despite Amira’s fears, there was no sign of life anywhere on the first level. The paintings of the walls were covered in white dust sheets along with every piece of furniture in sight.

His footsteps sounded eerily loud on the polished wooden floor, almost loud enough to make him cringe. The sorceress wouldn’t need ka to know he was coming.

Daindreth passed from the bright sitting room through a narrow hall and into a larger room with what appeared to be a dulcimer with covered chairs and settees all around. Here there was no sign of life as with the other rooms.

Carefully making his way to the stairs, Daindreth winced as one of the steps gave a loud creak. Voices came from overhead, one female and the other he recognized as belonging to Thad.

Daindreth ascended the stairs, forcing himself to move at a deliberate, measured pace. At the top of the stairs, he stopped, facing down the scene in front of him.

The sorceress from the market stood in her same plain dress, facing him from behind a chair. Thad sat in the chair with the cane at his side, no visible harm or bindings keeping him in place.

Thad’s eyes widened for just a moment at the sight of Daindreth, but he quickly schooled his expression.

The sorceress appeared less surprised. She glanced over Daindreth with what might have been disdain, one willowy hand resting on Thadred’s shoulder.

“Thad,” Daindreth said with a nod. “Are you alright?”

“Overall, yes,” Thad answered. “Though I seem to have been taken captive by a woman. This is a very embarrassing situation.”

The sorceress tightened her grip on Thadred’s shoulder and he winced. “Be careful that you don’t insult me, imperial.” Her tone was cool, calm, and she sounded every bit the dangerous enemy Amira thought her to be.

Daindreth didn’t take his eyes off the sorceress but spoke to Thadred. “Would you like to introduce me to your lady friend?”

“She hasn’t given me her name,” Thadred replied, cocking a suggestive glance over his shoulder.

“It’s alright. I know it.” Daindreth raised his chin, taking a few steps closer. “Sairydwen, correct?”

The sorceress tensed and glanced to the side. “Very good, demon.”

“I’m not a demon,” Daindreth said. “I have one, but we’re quite separate. There seems to be a great deal of misunderstanding about that.”

Sairydwen’s lip curled, indicating that she wasn’t in an open-minded humor. “Where is your other slave?” she demanded.

“Who?”

“The girl from the market,” she demanded. “The sorceress.”

“Ah.” Daindreth nodded once. “Amira, you mean. My other Kadra’han. I don’t have slaves.”

The sorceress’s grip shifted on Thadred’s shoulder and he grimaced. What was she doing to him?

Daindreth noticed Thad’s ring was gone, the one that collected his excess life force and made him resistant to spells. The sorceress now wore it on her thumb, though it hung loosely. Daindreth guessed that meant Amira wouldn’t be able to use magic against the other woman.

“I’d appreciate it if you would let my cousin go,” Daindreth said as calmly as he could. There was still no sign of Amira.

Sairydwen glanced over her shoulder again. Could she sense the other sorceress or was it merely logical to expect Amira to attack from behind?

“Why did you come, Sairydwen?”

The sorceress faced him again. It occurred to Daindreth that it was odd she had come against them while outnumbered. She was either foolish, had reinforcements, or an escape plan. Since it seemed unlikely that she had reinforcements and Daindreth didn’t think she was a fool, he concluded that she must have some means of escape they didn’t know about.

“I came to ask you what you want.” Sairydwen cocked her head to the side.

“I want my cousin back.”

The sorceress moved so that Thadred was squarely between her and the archduke. “You know what I meant.”

“I want the cythraul out of my head,” Daindreth answered honestly. “I want to be free.”

Sairydwen scoffed. “And I would like to walk through the streets without being hunted like some backwoods witch.”

“Then let’s help each other.” Daindreth spread his hands in a gesture of peace. “You know who I am?”

“Daindreth Fanduillion, son of the butcher,” Sairydwen spat. “Your father drove us from our homes when we would not grovel before him. Killed those who tried to resist. Tortured—”

“But you had the last laugh, didn’t you?” Daindreth snapped back. The image of his mother—beaten and battered—flashed across his mind.

For all that Drystan had been a cruel and coldly ambitious man, he had loved his empress. Daindreth remembered little of his father, but he remembered that much. Caa Iss had made the emperor attack Vesha, brutalize her. Beat her until she lost the child she’d been carrying, Daindreth’s unborn brother.

Sairydwen cast him a sardonic smile that was all teeth. “My people live as vagabonds in the forest, cowering in shadows. We don’t laugh often.”

Daindreth forced himself to rein in the anger rising in his chest. “I want the cythraul out. You want freedom. Let me speak with your mothers.”

Sairydwen shook her head. “I will never take you to my mothers.”

“Then why did you come?” Daindreth gestured around them. “To talk? You didn’t seem too eager to talk the last time we met.”

Sairydwen cocked her head, surveying him. “How many Kadra’han do you have shackled to you, archduke?”

It felt odd to be addressed by his title after so long with just Thadred and Amira. They had skirted around his identity, but now it seemed that Sairydwen was done playing games. “Just Thadred and the girl from the market you saw.”

Sairydwen raised her eyebrows, nodding. “The daughter of Cyne. She seemed eager to fight for you. Too often a girl will do anything for the first man to bed her.” The sorceress tsked her tongue. “But it’s a sorry man who has his lover defend him.”

Daindreth straightened. “Careful. She’s going to be your empress, soon.”

Sairydwen cast him a knowing smile and for the first time since he had been in boy’s shorts, he wanted to strike a woman.

Did she have no idea how much self-control he had spent on restraining himself? How many times he had fought to keep from taking everything Amira so freely offered?

But no. Everyone only saw what they wanted to see, and they wanted to see the worst.

“What do you want?” Daindreth repeated.

There was still no sign of Amira.

“I wanted to see you.” Sairydwen studied him with a narrow gaze. “And give you a message.”

“And that is?” Daindreth folded his arms across his chest.

There was a snap and a crack from outside the building. Amira’s voice called out and a thud followed.

“Amira!” Daindreth made to run to a window, but Sairydwen stopped him.

“No!” She pulled Thad to his feet and the knight winced.

Thadred jabbed an elbow for her gut as he stood, but the sorceress caught it. Thad let off a hiss of pain and relented.

“Let him go.” Daindreth took a quick step toward the sorceress. “What did you do to Amira?”

“Nothing, really,” the sorceress replied. “Just a minor spell of binding on the outer windowsills. One that I released at an opportune moment. She took a tumble, but she should be fine.”

Daindreth eyed the woman as he would a viper. She wasn’t more powerful than Amira, he didn’t believe that, but she had learned how to weave and thread her spells like a master while Amira was still learning.

“That’s the message,” Sairydwen said, voice flat, challenging. “You cannot outwit us, you cannot out-scheme us, and you cannot out-magic us, not even your Kadra’han.”

“If you’ve hurt her—”

“Silence.” Sairydwen moved Thadred between them again as Daindreth tried to circle around. “That will be quite enough, archduke.”

Thad shook his head at Daindreth quickly, his mouth pressed tight.

“What’s she doing to you?” Daindreth looked to Thadred.

“I don’t know. It just—”

“I’ve run threads of ka through the major veins in his nervous system,” she coolly answered, calm as a physician in a collegium lecture. “A difficult spell, but most effective at reminding larger opponents which of us is in control.”

“I don’t want you for an enemy,” Daindreth said, keeping his hands in plain sight. “I want to negotiate, Sairydwen. I want an audience with your mothers. Help me find them. Please.”

Sairydwen studied him closely, then shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“You strike me as someone who likes the truth, archduke. So here it is—you will never be free of that cythraul. Leave us alone and we will leave you alone. Continue your efforts to find us and there will be consequences. Your curse is irreversible.”

“You didn’t cast the spell that bound him to my bloodline,” Daindreth shot back. “You don’t know for sure.”

Sairydwen looked older than him, but not by more than a few years. She couldn’t have been one of those who cast the original curse.

“I do know,” Sairydwen replied. “The infection of that cythraul was permanently bound to your bloodline. If you were smart, you would kill yourself now before you have children. End it all.”

“Why not kill me if I am so dangerous?” Daindreth demanded. Anger rose in his chest despite the fact he had once—and not so long ago—tried to end his own life for that very reason.

“We are not murderers,” Sairydwen snapped back.

Daindreth’s nostrils flared, and his fists clenched at his sides. Considering the Istovari had slit Amira’s wrists and left her for dead all those years ago, it wasn’t a particularly convincing argument.

“Every curse can be broken,” Daindreth quoted, echoing the words that Amira had repeated to him again and again for months since he’d told her of the fiend.

Sairydwen shook her head. “That is true.” The sorceress inhaled, her face hardening once again. “You might be a good man, but sometimes the best thing a good man can do for the world is to die.”

“You said there was a way to break the curse!” Daindreth pressed. “The price—”

“If you follow me, I will hurt your friend very badly.” The sorceress pulled Thadred closer against her with one hand and with the other, she tossed the magic blocking ring on the floor. She reached out to touch the stone wall. “I know your assassin is a good tracker, so I am taking your friend with me. Let me go, and he will be fine. Chase me, and anything that happens to him will be on your hands.”

Light erupted in a half circle against the wall, burning out from the carpet and searing a lopsided ring around the sorceress and Thadred.

“Let him go!” Daindreth dove for the sorceress, but she was already being engulfed by streams of light.

“Dain!” Thadred struggled, but the sorceress dragged him back.

The two of them disappeared in a flash and nothing was left behind except a circular hole in the floor. Bits of burned wood and carpet rained down on the sitting room below, but there was no sign of Thadred or Sairydwen.

“Thad!” Daindreth shouted in vain.

“Daindreth!” Amira cried from outside. “Daindreth, what happened?” Her voice broke off into a choked cry.

Alarm flared through Daindreth. He remembered to snatch up Thadred’s discarded ring—it was warm to the touch—before he turned and raced back down the steps. He tore through the house, knocking over an end table and leaving a gilded vase in shards on the floor. He rushed out the back of the townhouse as fast as he could.

He found Amira limping toward him with her right arm cradled against her side and favoring one ankle. Her hair was strewn with leaves and her back was smeared in grass stains.

“Daindreth!” She grabbed him with her left hand and pulled him to her, wincing as she did. “Are you alright? I sensed the flare of magic. What happened? Where’s Thadred?”

Daindreth shook his head, looking her over. “Thad’s gone. She took him.”

“Took him?”

“One moment they were there and the next they weren’t.” Daindreth still wasn’t sure just what he had seen.

Amira cursed, then clenched her eyes shut and groaned. “A hostage?”

“I think so.”

“She won’t hurt him, then.” Amira winced again.

The sorceress had seemed to say that she wouldn’t hurt Thadred so long as no one pursued her. Daindreth wasn’t sure they could risk following, but at the same time, leaving Thadred at the mercy of the Istovari was out of the question.

“Are you alright? What happened? You fell?”

Amira nodded. “She used low level spells to secure some of the stones outside the windows. She used so little ka that I thought it was just coming from the ivy or moss on the stones, but...” The assassin groaned.

“Here. Sit down.” Daindreth eased her onto a stone bench and felt gingerly along her right shoulder.

“Ah!” Amira doubled over, panting in pain.

“It’s dislocated.”

“I think so,” Amira grated. “It got yanked out of socket when I fell.”

“Hold on.” Daindreth pulled her against his chest.

Once, a guard had fallen and dislocated his shoulder while they were on the road. Taylan had called Daindreth over and told him that setting minor wounds was an important skill for a general and had made him help.

Daindreth tried to remember what he had learned then, bracing one hand on the inside of Amira’s shoulder, below her collar bone, and gripping her forearm with the other.

Amira pressed her forehead against his chest, shaking. “Just do it,” she whimpered.

“Hold on.” He kissed her hair. “Shush.”

Amira’s whole body tensed, but she didn’t pull away.

Daindreth closed his eyes and pulled—steady, consistently, so that he didn’t tear any of the tendons. Her joint popped and snapped back into place.

Amira let off a choked cry and collapsed off the bench.

Daindreth caught her and eased her down so they were both kneeling on the grass. He stroked her back and crooned in her ear while she clung to him with her good hand. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered. “Breathe. That’s it. Shh.”

Amira gasped, her breaths coming sharp and fast. “We need to make a sling for it,” she muttered. “I won’t be able to...fight for a while.”

“I know.” Daindreth held onto her.

“We need to get Thadred back.”

Daindreth didn’t disagree, but seeing her on her knees, face white with pain, made him less eager to press her. “Amira...just catch your breath for a moment.”

“You said she vanished with Thadred? Was she touching rock when she did?”

Daindreth took a moment to remember. “Yes.”

“She must have used a portalstone.”

“Never heard of them.”

“They’re old,” Amira grunted. “Most of them haven’t been used in decades. It was too dangerous.”

“Dangerous?”

“A portalstone can transport you across any amount of distance instantly.” She looked up at the house, her eyes gleaming with tears of pain. He hated to see her suffering, but his tough assassin quickly wiped the tears away. “It comes with risks, though.”

“Risks?”

“The portalstone needs a continuous vein of stone or ore. You can stop anywhere along the ore vein, but once it ends, that’s where you’ll be forced off.” Amira rubbed her face with her good hand. “With the land shifting and eroding, the veins of ore would become disconnected. Sorceresses would get dumped underground or thrown off cliffs, so the practice was abandoned.”

“Not entirely, it would seem.” Daindreth looked up to the upper story of the house where the sorceress had stood. “The foundation of this house must be connected to the stone veins. Do you think that’s how she got in?”

“I don’t know,” Amira admitted. “But she can’t have gone far.”

“Do you think they’re safe?” Daindreth asked.

“Yes.”

“You sound certain.”

“I am. She wouldn’t have used it unless she thought it was safe. This whole meeting was set on her terms.” Amira cursed softly, pressing her right arm against her chest. “It would explain how she moves so quickly within the city, too.”

Though a part of him was still in a panic over losing Thadred, Amira’s confidence was reassuring. She knew what had happened and how to counter it. That was a welcome change.

Her face shone with perspiration. She was strategizing and planning, but she was in pain, no matter how she might try to hide it.

Daindreth rubbed her back. “Let’s see if there’s something we can use to bandage your arm in the house.”

Amira nodded.

As he helped her up, his mind went back to his cousin. Thad was at the mercy of the Istovari sorceresses—all because they had left him alone and vulnerable. It hadn’t made any sense to bring Thad along this morning. At the time, even for Daindreth to go was a great enough risk, but now...

Amira was talking as she limped toward the house, Daindreth supporting her. “Once we find where the portalstone let them out, we can track them.”

“Did you hurt your ankle?”

“Sprained, is all,” Amira clipped. “It will be fine soon.”

Daindreth let her lean on him, not arguing. “The Kadra’han will no doubt be here soon, love. We need to get out of here.” Especially now that she was hurt.

Amira shook her head, her face still pale as the linen that covered the furniture in the house. “Let’s just...get my shoulder dealt with and then...get our horses from the stables.”

Daindreth nodded. He grabbed a linen sheet off a dining table in the next room and returned to sit across from Amira. Drawing his knife, he began cutting it into strips.

Chapter Eleven

Thadred

Thadred shielded his eyes against the flash of light as his skull pinched and his joints cracked. He was weightless, formless, and sightless. Then he was tumbling headlong out of a doorway, pitched into wet grass.

He coughed, gagging against a sudden sensation of nausea as his head spun. He braced his hands against the damp earth as each inhale burned through his chest. As much as it pained him, he focused on getting his breathing under control so he could get his bearings.

His head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, but he lifted it to take in his surroundings. To his back was a high wall with parapets and the roofs of several tall towers visible from this angle. All around him were large rocks and smaller broken stones. The stones might have been the abandoned work of masons or perhaps natural formations. They ranged from the size of pebbles to larger than two men put together and were scattered in all directions.

Before him was a tangle of trees not ten paces off. They were thick and overgrown with brambles and ivy.

Thadred coughed. “What...? Where am I?”

A pair of mules waited tethered in the trees. They appeared to be fully saddled and bridled and had been there for some time judging by the stripped greenery around them.

In a rush, Thadred remembered how he had gotten here—his capture, Dain crying out, a flash of light, and that woman. He spun around to find the sorceress.

“Witch!”

The sorceress—Sairydwen—stood with her grey dress and pinned hair looking rigid and restrained, as much like a severe governess as any woman he had met. Or perhaps a widow. An angry widow. A widow who was pissed off about being a widow.

“Don’t try anything,” she said, marching toward him.

“Where’s Dain? What did you do to Amira? If you hurt them—” His fist clenched at his side. He’d never struck a woman before, but if this witch wanted to play games with the only family he had left—

The sorceress grabbed his forearm and pain shot through Thadred’s entire body. He barely stifled a cry as he went down, his bad leg seizing and locking up.

Groaning and spewing profanities that might have impressed even Amira, Thadred could do nothing as the sorceress stepped behind him.

“Don’t fight,” she said quietly, matter-of-factly. “That will only make this worse.” She grabbed his hands and sent another shock of throbbing pain through his shoulders and spine as she lashed his wrists together.

“Am I your hostage now?” Thadred gritted out past the pain.

“No,” the sorceress shot back. “You’re my protection.”

Panting, Thadred composed himself as the pain subsided. “If you think I’m playing your bodyguard, you have another thing coming.”

“Your friends care for you,” the sorceress clipped. “That will be enough to keep them from attacking me.”

“So I am your hostage.” Thadred twisted but couldn’t get a good view of the woman at his back.

“If you want to call yourself that, fine. Who am I to stop you?” Sairydwen tugged on his arms. “Stand.”

“No,” Thadred growled back.

“Stand!” she repeated, more emphatically.

“You might be able to torture me to my knees, but you can’t make me move if I don’t want to.”

Sairydwen leaned over, close enough for her breath to tickle his ear. “This isn’t torture,” she growled, her voice dropping dangerously. “You know nothing of torture if you think this is what it’s like.”

Thadred glanced back to her. Up close, he realized she wasn’t as old as he had thought her. Perhaps in her thirties? She would have been a young teenager during the fall of the Istovari, during the Conquest.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ve done some stupid things in my day but wandering into the forest with a witch isn’t one of them.”

“Move.” The sorceress pinched the side of his neck, just where it joined his shoulder.

Thadred doubled over as white-hot pain shot through his whole body.

“Bitch!” he growled as he panted and groaned on the grass.

Sairydwen walked away and Thadred pinched his eyes shut, breathing through the pain. He might not be able to fight her spells on him, but he was damn sure not going to let it keep him down.

When she returned, her footsteps were accompanied by the clop of eight mule hooves.

“You might not believe it now, but you may thank me for this someday.” Her voice was next to him now as she grabbed him under his arms, dragging him backwards.

She was strong, but not unnaturally so from her grunts of struggle. She managed to haul him out of the main circle of rocks. Thadred cursed every time his bad leg caught on a protruding stone.

He shouted insults at her again, adding a few choicer words. Nausea welled in the pit of his stomach, so fast he thought it might be another spell.

Thadred gagged, gagged again, then heaved. He vomited into the grass like a first-time sailor.

Sairydwen stopped dragging him back, letting him sit up so that he didn’t choke on his own vomit. She held his head for several moments, and even wiped his mouth with the corner of her apron when he was done.

“What did you do to me?” Thadred repeated, coughing.

“Some people react badly to portalstones.” Sairydwen grabbed him under the arms again and continued dragging him to the closest mule. “It’s not surprising. Especially with how old that one is.”

“A portal what?”

“There are old veins of them all over the city. All over this fief, really. Most of them don’t go anywhere or are just fragments. One or two are still in working order. I use this one to get in and out of the city without drawing notice.”

“People don’t notice when the ground just shits you out?” Thadred shook his head, trying to clear the sudden double vision from his eyes.

“You’d be surprised what people can be taught to ignore, brother.”

Thadred cursed at her again, but she seemed not to care. She dragged him to his feet, and he was a little surprised she managed to do that. She was stronger than she looked.

“If you think I’m getting on that mule—”

“You will,” the sorceress clipped, stray wisps of her hair flying about her face like the halo of a madwoman. “For the simple fact that there are guards who pass along that wall every five minutes.”

Thadred cocked one eyebrow. “That is bad for me how? I could do with a rescue.” A brief vision of Sairydwen caught by the Hylendale guards and burned at the stake flashed through his mind.

“If I’m caught and you’re rescued, as you put it, you’ll be required to give your name and city of origin.” Sairydwen raised one brow, prompting. “You’ll be expected to verify your identity to ensure you weren’t an accomplice in some way. Best case scenario, you get imprisoned. The princess and the archduke will try to rescue you, of course. The Kadra’han chasing them will only have to stand guard at your cell and wait.”

Thadred sighed harshly. She was right and that was the worst part. “Fine,” Thadred muttered. “But you’ll need to untie my hands so I can get on.”

“No,” Sairydwen clipped. “You’ll manage.”

Cursing the witch, her ancestors, and everything he could think of, Thadred complied. Between the two of them, they got him on board the closest mule. It was an acorn-brown animal with rolling eyes and twitching ears that looked as liable to stomp him to death as let him ride it.

The mule shifted, taking a quick step sideways as Thadred mounted and it was only Sairydwen’s balancing hand that kept him in the saddle. She lashed his hands to the pommel, tying expert knots without looking at him.

“You’ve done this before,” Thadred remarked. “Do you often steal strapping young men from the city?”

Sairydwen cast him a hard look.

“I suspect you couldn’t get any of them to come willingly. One look at that scowl of yours—”

Sairydwen sidestepped and so did the mule, causing Thadred to grasp the pommel of the saddle for support.

Sairydwen snatched the reins of his mule and stepped over to the second one.

“As it so happens, I’ve done this before, too,” Thadred quipped. “This isn’t the first time a woman’s tied me up.”

Sairydwen swung onto her own mule, arranging her skirts as she did. As she mounted, he got a good look at her legs—long, pale, and shapely. Her skirts stayed above her knees even once she finished arranging them,

Thadred made a point of looking long and obviously. “Not bad.”

The sorceress’s lip curled, and she yanked his mule after her own.

Thadred’s wrists jerked against the ropes and he winced in pain. He still considered that a victory—it was the lowest form of antagonization, but if she didn’t want him getting under her skin, she should have left him behind. “What do you plan to do with me?”

“Your friends will think twice before attacking if they see I have you.”

“They won’t be doing much of anything if Amira’s hurt.” Thadred glared at the sorceress’s back. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

The sorceress didn’t answer.

“Sairydwen, was it?”

The sorceress didn’t look back.

“That’s an awfully long name. I think I’ll call you Sair.”

Sair’s shoulders rose and fell in what might have been a sigh. If she wanted to take him prisoner, she could hardly expect him to be polite about it, now could she?

“Are you working with the Kadra’han or just that traitor Cromwell?”

Sair spared him a glance at that. “If Cromwell has betrayed anyone, it is us. His mother’s line would be ashamed of him. But he will speak with us and that is still more than most.”

Thadred remained quiet for a long set of heartbeats. For a clan rumored to be on the brink of extinction, these sorceresses had their tethers and hooks in some powerful people. He scoffed, but it came out forced. He needed to find the upper hand, but he was increasingly aware that they were playing a game much different from what he had supposed.

Sair returned her attention ahead. She guided their mules into the trees, through the narrow press of scraggly saplings and brambles.

The mules plodded through the dense vines making their way under the boughs of the pines. Within a few moments, they were out of sight of the walls.

Thadred glanced back in the direction of the city, chewing his lip. Amira and Dain would come for him. He didn’t doubt that. It was just a question of when and if they would be able to begin their pursuit before the sorceresses or the Kadra’han caught up with them. It also depended on how badly Amira was hurt.

“Did you hand my cousin over to the Kadra’han?”

Sair didn’t look back, but she answered. “No.”

“Is it coincidence then that the Kadra’han found us after you did?”

“No.”

“You’re saying you led him to us?”

“No,” Sair repeated.

Thadred wanted to smack her. “Tell me what you know!”

“No,” Sair said flatly.

Thadred made an exasperated sound at the sky. “You shouldn’t do this!” He fairly yelled the words. “Dain is a good man and he meant it when he said that he wanted peace between your people and the empire.”

“I know,” Sair said. “The archduke is tired of fighting. He would happily sue for peace.”

“Then why won’t you hear him out?”

“The cythraul will not share his feelings,” was her only answer.

“Then help him get rid of it!”

Sair was quiet. She led his mule under a low bough, and he had to duck to keep from being smacked in the head. The trees then parted before them and they plodded onto a muddy road. Gravel and small stones spread over sections of the road, the remains of someone’s half-hearted attempt at paving it.

Thadred glanced around for any signs of civilization or any indication of other people but saw nothing beyond the road itself. “You’re not worried about drawing suspicion?” Thadred called ahead to the sorceress. “Having a bound prisoner tied to your mule?”

“There’s no one on these roads at this time of day,” the sorceress responded.

But no sooner had she spoken than she steered the mules back into the trees on the far side of the road. The animals barreled into the bracken and pines as if they were used to it. Thorns and branches smacked at Thadred’s hair and clawed at his clothes. His sleeve caught on a branch, and he was left with a deep gash in the linen before he managed to free himself.

Cursing, Thadred squinted at the sorceress, doing his best to shield his head. “If this is what you women are like, I don’t blame the emperor for wanting to throw you all out of the empire.”

Sair spun in her saddle at that, grey eyes flashing as she did. Grey eyes, grey dress, pale skin—the woman seemed half mourner, half ghost.

“Your emperor banished us because we would not swear Kadra’han’s oaths to him,” she spat. “Are we wicked for wanting to keep our own free will?” Her nostrils flared, making her resemble some sort of farm animal. “You of all people should know better.”

Thadred arched one eyebrow.

“You are bound by those oaths.” Sair yanked on his mule’s reins, bringing the animal up level beside hers.

In truth, Thadred sometimes forgot that part of his situation. He resented being the bastard cousin. He resented the looks, the disdain, and the dismissal from the court. He resented how his mother’s poor choices were still fueling gossips all these years later. He resented being selected to serve Dain for the rest of his life, no better than a slave, but he didn’t resent Dain.

Dain rarely commanded him and Thadred could count on one hand the number of times he had. Thadred would rather die than be bound to Vesha, but Dain wasn’t so awful.

The two riders had reached a less dense area of the forest. In the distance, Thadred could hear the creak of wagon wheels and the calls from drivers. The road nearby must have at least some people on it this time of day.

He considered shouting for help, then thought better of it. Sair’s words about being caught echoed in his mind.

Besides. If Sair had been devious enough to get Cromwell on her side and get ahead of Amira, what was to say she hadn’t also turned the farmers and tradesmen to her cause?

“Dain is the only family I have,” Thadred said. “My mother left me with a wet nurse when I was barely a month old and fled to the east to marry a Kelethian count. Her parents wanted nothing to do with me. Vesha only wanted to train me as a servant to her son. Dain is the only one who has done anything for me in my life. He’s my brother. I would die for him.”

Sair twisted in her saddle and glanced to his neck, her brows pinched together, though he couldn’t have said why.

Then she returned her attention to their path ahead, steering the mules around a large oak and over the knotted tangle of its roots at their feet.

“Your father?” Sair asked.

That question caught Thadred off guard. Thadred didn’t know who his father was, not specifically. Nor did he wish to know—or so he told himself.

When he was younger, he’d considered trying to find his father many times over, but where to even start? His mother had refused to say who the man had been, though there were rumors. People said it was one of the northern mercenaries who had served the Myrani family.

According to gossip, Thadred’s grandfather had found out one of the mercenaries had bedded his daughter but hadn’t known which one. The spring before Thadred’s birth, they had all been dismissed.

Thadred was silent for several long moments until he realized that he had been running back through his memories, trying to see where the Istovari could fit into the story he knew.

Thadred recovered himself, clearing his throat. “What of him?”

“He might want to meet you,” Sair said.

Thadred didn’t believe for a second that Sair actually knew who his father was, but it annoyed him that she was trying to use that—as if he was still a little boy desperate for a father’s approval. “To the Dread Marches with him,” Thadred said, this time not hesitating. “All he did was bed my mother.”

“I doubt he knew of you.”

Thadred straightened, pulling against the ropes on his wrists. “What would you know?”

Sair made no response. A view of her straight back was the only answer he got.

Thadred’s heart pounded. His father had some measure of sorcerer’s blood somewhere, he knew that much. But the gift had been weak, barely there at all, just enough for Thadred to be bound by a Kadra’han’s oaths and not much more. Thadred knew nothing else about the man.

Thadred kept telling himself that he didn’t care, that he didn’t want to know. He was grown now, what difference did it make? And yet his heart pounded at the idea, and he found his usual wit failed him. What to say to that?

Even if Sair did know who Thadred’s father was, that man had served the empress’s family. That would have made him a traitor, right?

Thadred shook his head and glared more intently at Sair’s back. She was trying to unsettle and unbalance him, that was all. He’d heard a sorceress’s power wasn’t just in her magic and that appeared to be true.

“You won’t distract me, you know,” Thadred shouted. “I don’t care enough about who my father was to get sidetracked by that.”

“If your several moments of silence were any indication, I would say you just were,” Sair clipped back. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What do you plan to do with me?” Thadred demanded again. “Bait? Your slave?”

Sair deigned look at him then, but only for a moment. “This is for your own good, Thadred Myrani.”

Thadred blinked at her. All the worst things he’d seen people do had been done in the name of good. It was the worst excuse he could think of. “Where are we going? You know that Dain will come for me. Amira too.” Thadred had heard stories of what Amira had done in the palace the night she’d rescued Dain. He supposed now he’d get to see her vengeful fury firsthand. “Do you think you can fend them off a second time? Without the proper time to prepare? They will come for me.”

“I’m counting on it,” the sorceress said simply. She didn’t look back that time.

“You’re setting a trap for them?” The smugness in Thadred’s tone faded. A sinking sensation of dread weighted his gut.

“Why bother taking three prisoners when I only had to take one?” Sair cast him a meaningful glance over her shoulder.

Thadred swallowed, barely registering another branch in front of his head in time to duck.

Sair returned her attention ahead.

“Daindreth.” Thadred didn’t need to ask.

“His bloodline has to be ended. Sooner rather than later.”

Thadred clenched his fists, pulling uselessly against the cords. “You’re not hurting my cousin.”

“You’ll understand. Someday.”

“Pretty sure I won’t!” Thadred shouted back.

Sair didn’t respond to that. She kept her attention focused ahead and didn’t look back.

Thadred seethed, twisting the ropes and glaring at the woman before him.

She was underestimating the archduke and the assassin, Thadred was sure of that. Daindreth would come. Amira would come.

And after that stunt in the townhouse, Amira would be pissed.

Chapter Twelve

Amira

“The coast is clear. Keep moving—ow!” Her foot caught on a loose cobblestone.

Daindreth barely caught her in time to keep from falling. Her shoulder jarred and she cursed that sorceress, the Kadra’han, Cromwell, and Vesha, too, for good measure.

After losing Thadred, they had searched the city, but found no sign of Thadred or the sorceress who had taken him. Amira and Daindreth tried to leave and went to several of the city gates to find extra patrols at each of them, just as Cromwell had said. The soldiers searched under hay wagons and through barrels of ale, though they never said just what they were looking for.

Cromwell had told them the truth about that, at least.

They waited until dusk and tried to go back to Cromwell’s house for more answers. But they had arrived to find the place surrounded by at least three Kadra’han.

Amira hadn’t gotten a good look at them, but she had been able to sense their magic and the telltale bands of ka around their necks. Whether Cromwell was bait or a captive, she couldn’t tell. She wasn’t even sure he was still alive.

The assassin and the archduke had retreated, but Amira had noticed after a few blocks that they were being followed. The Kadra’han had caught their scent.

They staggered around the bend in the street to find their horses tethered where they’d been left. Illuminated vaguely by the firelight from an upper-level window, Amira located her mare’s reins and unlashed them, her one good hand shaking as she did.

She didn’t have time to untie Thadred’s dappled gelding. They’d have to leave him lashed to the hitching line.

“Here.” Daindreth finished untying her horse.

“Get on your own horse. They’re closing!” At Amira’s back, she could sense the ka of the Kadra’han coming closer and closer.

One of them had clambered onto a roof and two of them came running down the alley. She’d lost track of the fourth.

“After you,” Daindreth grunted, grabbing her foot and shoving her up onto the horse’s back. Daindreth unlashed his own horse’s reins and was in the saddle in the bat of an eye. He spurred his horse in the opposite direction of their pursuers and Amira spurred her horse after him.

The Kadra’han came rushing at their backs and Amira coiled darkness around herself and her horse, hoping to obscure their view of Daindreth.

They careened through the darkened streets, outpacing their pursuers in moments. On foot, the Kadra’han stood no chance of catching them.

Amira felt the ripple of spells fill the air and panic rose in her chest. She didn’t know how to counter magic. She barely knew how to use her own.

Luckily, the spells at her back fell short and she was able to breathe easier.

It occurred to her that only three of the four Kadra’han had given chase. What had become of the fourth?

For that matter, what had become of Cromwell?

Amira wasn’t sure if she regretted the idea of that man meeting his end at the hands of a Kadra’han. But what about Livian and their two younger boys who were still at home?

The Kadra’han wouldn’t have a reason to hurt them, would they? The family hadn’t even witnessed what had happened, but...

Daindreth led them through a narrow city square still littered with the debris of the market earlier that day. A few scattered streetlamps illuminated the empty crates and wagons, the canvas tents and seller’s stalls that had been left bare for the night.

A wagon lay in their path and Daindreth spurred his horse toward it. His horse cleared the cart’s traces and Amira’s horse leapt after him.

Daindreth glanced over his shoulder and seeing her still close behind, veered toward the left and the direction of the warehouse district.

“No!” Amira shouted. “Right! Take a right!”

Without questioning, Daindreth obeyed. His horse pivoted toward the right and Amira’s horse followed easily. At this point, Amira was no longer sure how much she was steering her horse and how much her horse was simply trailing the chestnut mare in front of them.

They moved as fast as the dark and the damp cobblestones would allow. They reached the artisan and trade district, the street lined with signs for clothiers, farriers, blacksmiths, silversmiths, weavers, tanners, potters, coopers, cobblers, and more.

“Dain!” Amira called ahead. “Easy,” she said. “Slow down.”

Daindreth reined in his horse in front of them and she did the same. His chestnut slowed into a brisk walk before stopping. “Are you alright?” He swung his mare around. “Amira?”

“Fine,” she panted, grimacing at the pain in her shoulder. “Just fine.”

“Are you sure? They didn’t hit you?” Dain pulled his horse to a stop so that the animals were shoulder to shoulder, and he faced Amira from the saddle.

“No.” Amira shook her head. “You?”

“They weren’t trying to hit me.”

That much was true enough.

“Did we lose them?” He glanced past her, and one hand slid back to his sword.

“For now,” Amira agreed.

“How do you think they found us?”

Amira almost shrugged, but then the stiffness in her shoulder made her think better of it. “I doubt we were that hard to find. They probably figured we would go back to Cromwell. After a flare of magic like the one our friend Sairydwen made, at least one of them probably sensed it.” She glanced to her aching shoulder. The sling was crooked, and she would need to have Daindreth readjust it later.

How she hated being wounded. Even with her new accelerated healing, it would be a day or two before she could use her arm properly again.

“Do you think Cromwell will tell them where we’re going?” Daindreth asked.

There was no real question as to where the two were going. Thadred might be the bait in the trap, but no matter what the Istovari sorceresses had in store for them, they had to go. They couldn’t leave him, though the idea had occurred to Amira once or twice already.

It didn’t matter.

“Of course, he will,” Amira snapped. “With our luck, they’re all in league, somehow. The Istovari, the Kadra’han, Cromwell, and Vesha.” Yet even as she said it, Amira knew it wasn’t true.

There were at least two sides in this cold war. The Istovari and Vesha were each their own. Whether Cromwell and Hylendale were on one or the other or their own side was a whole other question.

Daindreth glanced behind them again. “To the forest to find the sorceress’s trail?”

Amira chewed her lip, thinking. Without their horses, they could have climbed out over the walls between patrols or slid out through a drainage culvert. But they needed to keep their horses and short of leading a frontal assault on a gate tower, she had few plans. They were fenced in as surely as pigs for market.

Amira thought for a moment, not sure what she planned to do. Cromwell’s words came back to her then. I will leave the collie gate open tonight.

She’d dismissed his words at the time as meaning an entrance to his house, but...collies? He didn’t have collies.

Her brow furrowed as she considered it more. Her father had often said the city walls were meant to keep the sheep safe from the wolves. It was a common enough saying.

“Collie gate,” Amira repeated softly.

Amira went still, looking to the palace. In the night, it was a large shadow illuminated here and there by points of light. It was nothing in comparison to the majesty of the Mynadra palace, but here it was a colossus that seemed ready to swallow the whole city.

“Amira?”

“Sheep farmers in the north sometimes build stone fences as high as a man’s shoulders to stable their flocks at night. To keep out the wolves.”

“Yes?” Daindreth glanced around them.

“But that can keep out their dogs, too, so most of them add a small door that can be opened to let the collies in and out.” Amira exhaled a long breath. “Cromwell is telling us we can still get out the city’s collie gate.”

“Meaning?”

Amira shook her head. “It could be another trap Cromwell has set for us.”

“The way I see it, Cromwell hasn’t trapped us so far.”

Amira shot him a glare. “He betrayed us to the sorceress. He got Thadred taken prisoner!”

“Yes,” Daindreth agreed, a hard edge entering his voice. “I haven’t forgotten, but he has helped us evade the Kadra’han. Whether he is our friend or our enemy, I don’t think he wants us captured by my mother’s agents any more than we do.”

Amira rubbed her forehead, smoothing the frown lines, wishing she could smooth her anger so easily.

“So, what does collie gate mean to you?” Daindreth asked.

“This way,” she said, turning her horse toward the eastern end of the city. She nudged her mare into a brisk walk. “There’s a postern near the palace. I used it when I needed to leave the city inconspicuously.”

Daindreth nudged his horse after hers, still keeping one hand on his sword. “Guarded?”

“Of course.”

“Used often?”

“Only a few late-night couriers and me. It was a safe way to leave the city when I was sent on my father’s errands.” Amira surveyed the quiet street ahead, sensing the ka of the people within the buildings and the cats, dogs, rats, and other small creatures that skittered in the dark. So far, no sign of their Kadra’han pursuers. “I used it the night I was sent to kill you.”

“Really?” Daindreth’s expression was hard to read in the dark.

“Yes.”

“Well then.” Daindreth straightened and squared his shoulders. “I’d say it’s a lucky gate. Wouldn’t you?”

Amira almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

Chapter Thirteen

Daindreth

Daindreth kept his horse to the right and a little behind Amira’s mare to guard her injured side. He kept his sword loose in its sheath and his eyes on the dark streets, never focusing in one place, letting his peripheral vision watch for movement.

Every fiber of him crackled with nervous energy. He could practically feel the Kadra’han breathing down his neck.

In the rush of their escape, he hadn’t thought of his own safety, just getting Amira out of there and getting away. Now, in the eerie stillness of the street, his mind turned to other things. He remembered the rage of Caa Iss and the steaming, smoldering anger of the demon raging through his head.

He remembered being strapped down and bound to that silver chair, the voices of his mother and Darrigan and the others coaxing and drawing that demon up like a water snake from the depths.

Worst of all, he remembered Caa Iss grinning at Amira with his teeth, threatening her, promising the most exquisite tortures and agonies. The cythraul had meant them all, too. He would peel her apart like a roasted partridge if he ever got the chance.

All that and more would be their fate if he was captured. For Daindreth, it wasn’t just his life at stake if Vesha had her way. Amira and the entire empire would suffer, too.

Amira pulled her horse closer to his. “If this is a trap...” she began, then stopped.

“I know,” Daindreth said. By now he knew her well enough to understand what she was going to say—something about him needing to flee and that she would be fine. A part of him saw the reason in that idea, but he wouldn’t be abandoning Amira, no matter the wisdom in fleeing.

“Head back toward the main city gate. Do you remember where it is?”

“I don’t see why it matters,” Daindreth answered shortly. “I wouldn’t leave without you.”

“But if you need to—”

“I won’t.” Their horses were close now. Daindreth rested his hand on her lower back, so as not to touch her injured shoulder.

Amira’s whole body tensed under his touch, though whether from anger or something else, he wasn’t sure. She whipped her head toward him, her expression lost in the shadow of her hood. He thought she might be about to snap at him, but then she spoke, her voice soaked in fear. “They can only kill me, Daindreth. They can do much worse to you.”

Daindreth hadn’t forgotten, but it changed nothing. “Amira.” He reined in his horse, stopping.

“What?” She stopped her horse beside him.

Daindreth leaned over and kissed her. He wasn’t sure how he found her lips in the dark, but he kept one hand on the reins and cradled her face with the other.

His kiss surprised her, but it didn’t take long for her to shift and lean into him, kissing him back with a recklessness that tasted of desperation.

Daindreth savored the taste of her, the feel of her. Even the faint hints of sandalwood in her hair intoxicated him. She was better than wine, better than the best jenever. “Not without you,” he whispered into her mouth.

“Dain, I can’t watch you—”

“I love you,” he said, kissing her again. “It will be alright. We’ll find away.”

Amira shuddered and he thought she might be crying. He shushed her and kissed her temple, stroking her back.

“You’re a hopeless romantic,” she muttered.

“No,” he said. “I am full of hope, my love.”

“You’re a fool.”

“Maybe.”

“You can’t die for me.” Her voice was shaky and soft, nearly a whimper.

“I can, actually,” Daindreth said. “I plan to, if it comes to that. But I’d rather not prove it.”

“I’m your Kadra’han. It’s my place to—”

“You’re my bride,” Daindreth countered. “You’ll be my wife before too long.” Daindreth let that unspoken assumption hang in the air, that they would be able to rid him of the demon. “If anyone’s going to do the dying, it will be me, so I’d rather we both live. How does that sound?”

Amira took a long breath, and it was hard to know what she was thinking, especially with her face shadowed in the dark. “If this is a trap, we run. Both of us.”

“Yes,” Daindreth agreed.

Amira was the first to spur her horse onward. Daindreth nudged his to follow, keeping close at her back and holding the same position at her flank.

The buildings here were two or three stories tall, made of stones that had greyed over the years. The seal of King Hyle had been carved over the main entrance of every building, illuminated by lamps that burned at the doorposts. There were tall buildings, small buildings, and buildings with crenellations and ornamental pillars, yet all was quiet.

It took Daindreth a few minutes to realize that they were in the administrative district. Fonra had brought him here last spring on a tour. It was where King Hyle’s tax collectors, judiciaries, constables, and other bureaucrats based their operations. Barely anyone stirred at this hour, though the occasional window was lit by a lamp and guards stood posted outside several of the buildings.

They came in sight of the postern and Amira reined in her horse. The two of them waited outside a pool of light cast by the nearest lamp, presumably out of view of the soldiers.

As best Daindreth could tell, there were only five men stationed nearby. Two stood at attention beside the postern and three more could be seen standing over the top of it along the battlement.

In the dark, it was hard to tell which way the guards faced. Were there more than usual? He wasn’t familiar with Lashera’s defenses and in truth, when he’d last been here, he had been more concerned with thinking up ways to speak with Amira.

“Is everything alright?” Daindreth asked.

“I should go alone. If they—”

“Do you sense an ambush?”

Amira exhaled. “There’s nothing unusual. I’m not picking up ka beyond the bodies in the buildings.” She gestured to the stone structures around them. “Just these men, but—”

“Then we go together.” Daindreth hadn’t planned to let her go alone, regardless.

Amira huffed as if he was being unreasonable.

“You’re the one who said we were short on time.” Daindreth nudged his horse forward first.

Amira kicked hers after him. She muttered something under her breath about men and their stubbornness, but he pretended not to hear. “When we get there, tell them you have an urgent message from King Hyle and need to deliver it as once. It will be less memorable if a man speaks.”

That seemed overly simple to Daindreth. Would that work? All the same, he nodded.

As they approached the postern, the guards straightened. There was a slight shifting of their weapons and a small shuffle as the men adjusted their stances.

“Who approaches?” demanded one, the archduke couldn’t tell which.

Daindreth eased his horse to a halt not fifteen feet from the two guards on the ground level. The postern gate arched between the men.

“A messenger from King Hyle,” Daindreth said. “Urgent and to be delivered at once.”

“Who gave the commission?” the guard pressed.

Daindreth didn’t know what that meant, but said the first name that came to mind, “Lord Cromwell.”

Daindreth heard Amira’s soft gasp behind him and wondered if that had been a mistake. Then the guards nodded and raised their polearms without another word.

The guards overhead set to work, pulling the levers and cranks that opened the gates. In a matter of moments, it swung open.

Daindreth looked back to Amira, her face pale and eyes wide in the moonlight. She looked from him to the open gate and back again. Then, she kicked her mare forward.

The little rouncey leapt into a canter and sprang past the guards with a snort. The armored men leaned back out of the way and Daindreth’s chestnut mare followed close on her heels.

Daindreth ducked low over his horse’s neck as they bolted from the gate. The stone arch flashed above and Daindreth had a brief glimpse of the portcullis spikes. He imagined for just a moment that those spikes were falling, about to ram into his skull.

Then they were past the gate and the cold night air thick with the scent of the forest slapped his face. A narrow dirt road snaked away from the postern, winding through the sloping hill and down toward the forest some two hundred paces off.

Amira didn’t slow her horse, one hand guiding the mare, bent low with the horse’s mane flapping in her face.

Daindreth’s chestnut kept pace as they bolted for the treeline, the assassin focused straight ahead. She kicked her horse faster and Daindreth kicked his own to keep pace.

They made it to the treeline and the shadows of the dark pines. The road continued on, hemmed in by branches. Here, just a few hundred paces from the city, was wholly different. Everything seemed quieter and calmer, like this forest had not changed since the creation of the world.

Once they were away from the torchlit shadow that was the city, Amira eased her horse into a walk and Daindreth slowed his to match their speed.

“Are we being followed?” Daindreth asked.

“Not that I can tell.” Amira kept her attention in front of them.

“What do you think that was about?” Daindreth glanced back over their shoulders.

“Hard to say,” Amira answered. “Maybe Cromwell has some grand scheme with the sorceresses or with King Hyle. Or maybe both. Perhaps he found out he has a conscience after all. We may never know.”

“Do you think he’s dead?” Daindreth asked.

“No.” Amira replied without hesitation.

“The Kadra’han are not known for being forgiving. They will know he helped us escape.”

“I know.” She sighed. “Cromwell is many things, but I find it hard to believe that self-sacrificing is one of them. He’ll find a way to live. Like a cockroach.”

Daindreth arched one eyebrow. “Sometimes, I can’t tell if you hate him or not.”

“I don’t trust him,” Amira said, though that much had been obvious since Daindreth had first seen the two interact months ago. “But at the same time...he’s never lied to me, not that I know of. In some twisted way, he’s protected me. Even if he’s also betrayed me.”

Daindreth didn’t understand it, but at the same time, he did. His mother was like that.

She had sacrificed everything for him and for the empire he would inherit. She had given her life and possibly her soul to the stability and prosperity of Erymaya and its territories.

Vesha had sworn to serve Moreyne, the fallen goddess, for the sake of what she saw as the greater good. She’d even been willing to hand over her only son to be a cythraul’s puppet.

That first night that Vesha had explained to Daindreth what she planned to do, what Caa Iss was demanding...Vesha hadn’t wept, but Daindreth had seen the signs of tears in her red eyes.

It would destroy his mother to hand him over to a demon, but she would do it. If that was the price demanded for the safety and stability of the empire, she would do it.

Sometimes, Daindreth thought her a fool. Who could trust promises from the Dread Marches? Other times, he thought himself selfish. Who could deny that the demons had kept their end of the bargain? And for more than a decade, too?

Worse, who could deny that the storms were unusually frequent in the weeks since he had left Mynadra? And who could deny the drowned village back in that valley?

The cythraul had ensured peace and prosperity for years and years. Now that their contract had been violated, the land was shaking. Daindreth feared that at any moment it might crumble.

He rode on alongside Amira as she pressed deeper into the forests.

“We’ll find the Istovari’s trail in the morning,” Amira said.

In the distance, thunder rumbled. Veins of light crackled along the horizon.

Amira let off a bark of laughter that echoed the storm. “But of course!”

“Will that wash away the tracks?”

“Maybe,” Amira said, not sounding concerned.

Daindreth glared at the sky, at the dark forest, and the narrow path. All of it kept them from spurring their horses into a breakneck gallop and rescuing Thadred.

“We’ll head north,” Amira said. “If they’re going to the Cursewood, they’d have to go that way eventually. We’ll pick up their trail in daylight.”

Daindreth had tracked boars and stags in the forest before, but always with dogs and a team of trained hunters. Here, he had only one hunter—his bride-to-be. Amira perched on her horse with her injured arm slung across her chest.

He wasn’t so sure she was up to it.

Chapter Fourteen

Thadred

“You’re not what I expected a sorceress to be like,” Thadred said, shivering with a wet blanket pulled around his shoulders.

“And what was that?” Sairydwen clipped, her eyes daring him to continue.

“Well.” He almost said prettier, then thought better of it. He looked her over. The pair of them hunched under a stone ledge jutting near the base of a small cliff.

Her hair clung to her in wet strands, flat against her pale neck and her grey wool dress was heavy and weighed with rain against her chest. White streaked her hair with silver, but she wasn’t that old, was she?

Despite that, it wasn’t her appearance that had surprised him the most.

“Sorceresses aren’t supposed to sit shivering in the rain like sad little mice.” Thadred glanced up at the rain, still falling hard as it had been for at least two hours since dawn.

Their mules stood a few paces off, tied to a tree branch. Sairydwen had oilcloth covers for the animals, enough to keep the saddles and gear dry, but not enough for their riders.

So Thadred and Sairydwen, unable to find a suitable cave, had been left to shiver under a pathetic excuse of a ledge.

The cold rain made the ropes on Thadred’s wrists swell and the knots tighten. It would take a knife to get them off after this. They’d already chafed red rings and he wondered if the newly forming sores might become infected.

He’d mentioned it to Sairydwen, but she’d dismissed him with a snort and told him he would be fine. Not that he had expected her to be truly concerned.

“Can’t you make this rain stop?” Thadred asked.

Sairydwen rolled her eyes. “I’m a sorceress, not a goddess.”

“Sorry, I thought that was the same thing.”

“Can the princess make the rain stop at will?” Sairydwen asked.

It took Thadred a moment to realize she meant Amira. He hadn’t thought of her as a princess...well, ever, really.

“I thought you were more powerful than her,” he quipped back.

“I’m not.” The sorceress’s blunt honesty caught him off guard.

“But you bested her,” Thadred pointed out. He’d heard the crash and Amira’s cry of pain.

“That means nothing,” the sorceress replied. “I know how to use my power. She hasn’t even scratched the surface of hers.”

Thadred arched one eyebrow. He was a little surprised Sairydwen was telling him this.

She continued. “Magic is what happens when ka is harnessed and channeled for a specific purpose,” Sairydwen said. “The symbols, sigils, spells, potions, and all of that, they have no magic, just as ka has no magic. When a sorceress binds ka in the right way, it produces a result and we call that magic.”

Thadred pursed his lips, thinking. He’d never had much interest in sorcery, mostly because he couldn’t use it. It had always seemed a waste of time. As a boy, he had tried to learn, but had never even sensed magic.

The other young Kadra’han in the palace had mocked him for it, though most of them could do little more than sense ka. It made for useful guards and scouts, but not much else. They’d hated him for having a title, having a family, such as it was. And they had been merciless.

Once, a group of boys with some minor ability to weave spells had jumped him after supper in the barracks. Three of them working together had managed to use his own ka to trip and bind him to the floor, wrapped up like an insect in a spider’s web. He’d stayed that way for hours until the servants found him, and Captain Darrigan had to personally unknot the spells.

After that, Taylan—who was the closest either Dain or Thadred had to a father—had arranged for the acquisition of a ring that prevented Thadred’s own ka from being drawn off by a sorcerer. He hadn’t had trouble with sorcerers using their spells on him again until today.

“Princess Amira has a great deal of power—a great deal indeed. But her understanding of how to use it is elementary at best. A few primitive incantations.” Sairydwen shrugged her narrow shoulders. “I have little magic, but even the most low-level spells can do a great deal of damage if wielded properly. In this way, magic is less about natural ability and more about ingenuity.”

Thadred pulled his arms closer against his body as thunder rumbled in the distance. The rain had begun to let up.

“You will learn this,” Sairydwen said, “when you get your own magic back and begin learning.”

She might as well have said when you get your legs back.

Thadred shot her a sideways look, teeth grinding. “What are you talking about?”

Sairydwen folded her arms closer around herself, watching as the mules stomped their hooves and shifted. “There is much that will be possible after we break your curse.”

Thadred blinked at her. “That’s impossible.”

He’d seen a Kadra’han’s curse broken once before. Amira had defied Daindreth’s order, but had done it in order to save him. Her defiance had forced the curse to attack itself as its warring halves—rewarding service and punishing disobedience—were pitted against each other. That had nearly killed Amira, but in the end, she had emerged alive, freed from the curse of the Kadra’han, and stronger, far stronger. Her power still grew every day.

But Thadred wasn’t Amira. She had been born with magical ability. She came from a long line of sorceresses. Magic obeyed her in ways it might as well have not existed for him. He and Amira were as different as a pheasant and a falcon.

“Every curse can be broken,” Sairydwen said, quoting the old adage Amira had repeated so many times since they had set out to rid Dain of Caa Iss.

“And all magic has a price,” Thadred clipped back.

Sairydwen straightened, looking into the trees. “It does,” she confirmed. “But better to pay that price and live free than grovel on your knees before a tyrant.”

Around them, the rain slowed to a trickle and then a sprinkle. The storm was passing.

“Dain isn’t a tyrant.”

“No?” Sairydwen shot him a glare. “Those who speak against the imperial family can be executed anywhere in the empire. Thieving from the imperial coffers costs thieves a hand. If a man falls behind on taxes, he forfeits all his family’s possessions.”

Thadred wasn’t sure what she was getting at, but he wasn’t in the mood to hear his captor regale the obvious. “Things are that way in every country, wherever you go.”

“Then perhaps this world is full of tyrants,” Sairydwen said in a tone that made it hard to tell if she was speaking to herself or to him. “Perhaps one day, we will find what it’s like to be led by benefactors instead of slavers.”

“We will. Once Dain is emperor.”

Sairydwen cast him a caustic smile. “You honestly believe that. Don’t you?”

“Yes.”

The rain lessened until there was just the occasional patter on leaves beyond their small hiding place. Thunder continued to rumble far in the distance as the storm receded.

Thadred wondered how long they could expect before the next one came along to soak them all over again. He’d spent most of this trip cold, wet, and tired and he was beginning to hate this tiny northern kingdom. What right did it have to be this miserable?

He couldn’t believe people lived here on purpose.

“Get up.” Sairydwen stood, watching the sky through the leaves overhead. “Come.”

Thadred groaned as he obeyed. “What if I fought you right now? Would you torture me until I obeyed?”

With his bound and unarmed hands against Sairydwen’s considerable repertoire of skills, he didn’t expect to best her. All the same, he could make life very inconvenient for her.

Sairydwen’s nostrils flared. “You can mount that mule, or I will drag you behind it. Your choice.”

Thadred’s leg throbbed. He was already cold, stiff, and sore from riding in the freezing in the rain. A sharp ache had settled into his hip and upper thigh, throbbing and burning.

Thadred studied the sorceress, wondering if she really would drag him behind the mule. It didn’t take him long to decide that yes, she would.

Even with Thadred’s compliance, it still took a few minutes for them to get him back in the saddle. Everything hurt.

Thadred let off a choked cry of pain as he crawled aboard the mule’s back, hunched over and breathing heavily. His entire side felt as if it were being stabbed with hot irons. “Son of a flea-bitten tramp,” he swore, gripping the pommel of the mule’s saddle. “Son of a half-dog whore.”

Sairydwen glanced to his injured hip, eyes narrowing as if she could see beneath his trousers and skin, straight to the mangled bones.

“What are you looking at, witch?” Thadred growled, his usual charm washed away by pain.

Her hand rested on his thigh, and he flinched. He’d never been particularly shy, and gods knew other woman had done far bolder things to him, but this woman was different. Cold and mildly predatory. It was like being touched by a snake.

“Your bones were poorly set,” she said. “If you were a woman, that break would have made you sterile.”

Thadred wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but he wasn’t particularly interested. “Of course they were poorly set,” he spat back. “Have you ever tried resetting a broken pelvis?”

Sairydwen cocked her head to the side. “The damage was...extensive.”

“You’re telling me.”

Sairydwen dropped her hand. “Short of shattering it again and possibly killing you, I don’t see what we could do for it.”

Thadred hadn’t realized he’d had hope for healing until Sairydwen snatched it away. Istovari could break a Kadra’han’s curse somehow, but not heal a few broken bones. He glared at the mule’s ears and the forest beyond.

“What’s all this talk of breaking my curse and healing me? I thought I was a hostage.” Come to think of it, Sairydwen had mentioned teaching him about magic, too.

Sairydwen turned and moved toward her own mule. “You’re a man,” she said, as if that were an explanation unto itself.

“And your people are short of those at the moment?”

“Yes, as it so happens,” Sairydwen clipped back. She swung aboard her own mule, reins in her hands. “Most of our men gave their lives in the war.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have sent them to die in it,” Thadred snapped.

Everyone had heard the stories of how the sorceresses had sent their sons, husbands, and brothers to die against the armies of the empire. When the final tower had been raided and the sorceresses ousted, the Erymayan army had found the bodies of dozens of men with their wrists cut—willingly, by all appearances.

Now Thadred knew that there had been a girl among them, too—Amira—though she had not been quite dead. And that had all been the cost for infecting Emperor Drystan with Caa Iss.

Sairydwen kept her back to him. “They gave their lives willingly,” she said with a short and final tone.

“Something tells me you’re not used to men talking back, are you?” Thadred challenged, spine straightening. He had a talent for getting under people’s skin, but this sorceress made things easy.

“Men should do as they’re told.” Sairydwen snapped the reins of his mule, jerking the animal forward.

“There are some places they say that of women,” Thadred snarled back.

Sairydwen spun a glare on him. “We are not there. We are in the lands of Istovar and in the lands of Istovar, you will learn your place.”

“Or what?” Thadred snapped. “What will happen?”

Sairydwen hunched her shoulders. She pulled the hood of her cloak up, but it stuck to her like a second skin, plastered against her head by the rain.

“You Istovari might have decided that you’re better than everyone,” Thadred grumbled, “but that doesn’t mean you are. Men run most of the world.”

“And how’s that working out for the world?” Sairydwen’s question met him with the weight of a lifetime’s skepticism.

“Why you don’t live in the empire, then?” Thadred countered. “Vesha has kept control there for more than a decade and the land prospers.”

“Does it?” Sairydwen asked. She tilted her head back to the grey sheet of sky.

“Last I checked.” Thadred shifted and grimaced at the pain in his hip.

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” Sair said.

“Look, I have my own issues with Vesha, but Dain is a good man. He’ll be a good emperor, a great one, even. You people all fear the day he’ll come into power, but the truth is that the empire could do worse. He’s honorable to a fault and braver than ten of me combined. He might be an idealistic idiot, but he’s a kind and honorable idiot.”

Sair’s nostrils flared. “You sound so eager to return to slavery.”

“Dain is not a slave master! How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“You don’t know,” Sairydwen said, shaking her head. “You don’t know anything.”

“Then enlighten me, your ladyship,” he sneered. “What do I not know?”

“Your heritage, your birthright. Damn it all, you don’t know the first thing about who you are, who we are, do you?”

Thadred’s chest seemed to turn into a block of stone. Everything went hard and heavy all at once. “I know exactly who I am. I’m the bastard son of an unknown northerner and some noblewoman who abandoned me at birth.”

Hearing Sairydwen’s words, he could almost imagine that these unknown Istovari mothers were his mother. He imagined her sending Sairydwen to make this offer, expecting him to be grateful when she should be the one groveling for forgiveness.

No one could expect to abandon him for his entire life and then welcome him with open arms when it suited them. If he really was so precious to the Istovari, they shouldn’t have waited until now to find him.

Cast off, discarded, used. Thadred was all of those things and more, and at the same time, less.

Even the many women who warmed his bed never stayed for long. When it was over, they all left him for better prospects. Some of them did it tearfully and under coercion from their parents and guardians, but they all did it just the same. They left him like everyone else, except Dain.

Dain had been his brother, his best friend, for as long as he could remember. Even without the Kadra’han’s oaths, he would have sworn loyalty to his cousin a thousand times over.

If Sairydwen thought she could bribe him with vague allusions to the father who had abandoned him and a power he could never have, she would find he wasn’t so easily fooled.

“You’re lost,” Sairydwen said simply. “That’s all. Just lost.”

“Lost?” Thadred blinked at Sairydwen’s back, wondering if she could hear herself. “If I’m lost, it’s because you don’t know the roads. As you’ll recall, you abducted me. I’m not a stray kitten or a wandering calf. I’m a knight and a man sworn to serve the archduke.”

“You’re more than that,” Sairydwen said. “So much more.”

“What if I don’t want to be more?” For his whole life, Thadred had been told who he was—a bastard and the by-product of a noblewoman’s indiscretion. Then he had been a ward of the court and playmate to the archduke before being told he would be Dain’s knight and a Kadra’han.

There had been no choice in any of that. The only real choice Thadred ever had was which noblewomen he would charm into his own indiscretions on his own time. It might have been hypocritical, but he’d fathered no bastards to the best of his knowledge. He’d taken precautions against that or made sure his lovers did.

Hearing Sairydwen decide that he was going to be an Istovari sounded a lot like hearing Vesha decide he was going to be Dain’s knight. Thadred was tired of other people deciding for him.

“You are more,” Sairydwen replied, still not turning around. “What you want makes no difference.”

Thadred seethed. “What do you want with me, sorceress?”

Sairydwen was quiet.

“I asked you what you want with me! Am I to be a slave? Surely you and your sisters are not so lonely for male companionship as all this. Though if they’re all like you, I’d be surprised that any man would—”

“You will be sent to the Elder Mother,” Sairydwen said. “If she is able to break your curse, she will. Either way, she will decide your fate.”

Thadred swore at Sairydwen’s back. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

Sairydwen remained silent and didn’t respond to any of Thadred’s prodding after that.

Chapter Fifteen

Amira

Amira’s shoulder no longer pained her. She’d coiled ka around it constantly since her fall and it seemed to be working. Her hands had also been scraped on her way down and those were still a little sore, but the skin was again whole and only a few pink marks remained. She had new aches and pains, but that was to be expected.

At the moment, the cold was her greatest ailment. Though she and Daindreth had oilskin cloaks now, even that only went so far.

Daindreth pulled her tighter against his side as they watched the rain fall. A farmer had allowed them to take shelter on his front steps last night after it had become too dark to keep chasing the trail of the sorceress.

He’d allowed their horses to be tied under the lean-to with his cows, too.

It was hardly the kind of hospitality that anyone boasted about, but Amira didn’t blame him. If he let them inside his house, he’d be obligated to share his food. As it was, Amira had counted six children and a very pregnant wife. She didn’t blame him for being miserly.

The boards of the porch were hard against Amira’s backside, but her body fit easily against Daindreth’s. Everywhere they touched, she was warm. She wanted to curl against him and fall asleep, but the instant the rain let up, they needed to grab their horses and be off.

They had to be at least twenty miles from Lashera. She only hoped the rain had delayed any Kadra’han that were in pursuit, not that she was going to rely on that.

“Are you alright?” Daindreth asked.

“Cold,” Amira groaned.

“What can I do?” Daindreth looked her over. He was pale in the cold with dark circles under his eyes. Rain soaked and disheveled, he looked almost as bad as she felt. Unlike her, he wasn’t used to being bedraggled, either.

Amira rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes again. “You’re doing it,” she exhaled.

Despite their best efforts, sleep hadn’t been an option. The porch was barely wide enough for them both to sit and some of the rain still hit them when the wind picked up.

Daindreth rubbed her lower back. “When this is over,” he said softly, “when we’re back home in Mynadra. With Thadred. And without Caa Iss.”

Amira tilted her head up to look at him as he spoke, ear still pressed against the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

Daindreth pulled her closer and offered her a soft smile. “We’ll have a tub filled with hot water, big enough for both of us. We’ll have the servants add lavender and sandalwood and we’ll soak in it until we’re clean as new silk.”

“Hmm.” Amira glanced to the pouring rain, shifting so that she could reach over and take his hand with her left. “We’ll both be in it?”

“Yes,” Daindreth whispered. He toyed with the end of her braid. “I can wash your hair for you, if you’d like.”

“I would like that,” Amira said, closing her eyes.

He kissed her hair, breathing in her scent. “Your hair could use with a good washing, I think.”

Amira smacked his thigh. “Bathtubs are scarce out here, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Daindreth nuzzled the back of her neck. “You’ve been busy with other things.”

The roar of the rain meant that they had to be inches away to even hear one another. At least that should mean that the farmer and his family wouldn’t be able to overhear them.

Amira relaxed against Daindreth as best she could, focusing on the closeness and warmth of his body instead of the cold. When his arms were wrapped around her like this, nothing else mattered. They were safe. They were where they were meant to be.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep again. Daindreth held her and they waited, half-dozing, as the rain hammered from above and fell in sheet after sheet.

“The storms shouldn’t be this bad,” Amira murmured, a clenching sensation in her gut. “It rains in the summer sometimes, but not like this. Not for days on end.”

Daindreth squeezed her just a little tighter. “Freak storms,” he said quietly. “Do you think...?”

“I think we need to get Thadred,” Amira interrupted. “And then get the Istovari mothers to see reason.”

“How, Amira?”

Amira looked to the general direction of north, the direction of the Cursewood. “We’ll find a way,” she softly vowed. “Somehow.”

Daindreth stroked her back. “Sairydwen said they wouldn’t.”

“They don’t get to kill you to cover up their mistake,” she spat. “They know they made a mistake, bringing Caa Iss to this plane of existence. They get to live with that now.” Amira’s breathing quickened and her heart sped up. “They don’t get to just walk away and leave innocent people to take the fall. It’s time they were held accountable for something and I—”

“Amira.” Daindreth squeezed her tightly against him. “Peace, dearest.”

Amira exhaled, pressing her cheek against his arm. “They made this mess. They can fix it. Every curse can be broken.”

“Sairydwen said the cost of breaking this one would be too high.”

“Sairydwen’s a bitch,” Amira muttered.

“She seemed to know what she was talking about, Amira.”

“What’s too high for an outcast sorceress may not be too high for us.”

Daindreth was quiet for a long moment. “Your mother...” He took a deep breath and began again. “Your mother was willing to pay the price of her only child.”

Amira shifted in his arms. “Yes.” She’d admitted it freely enough. She didn’t suppose there was any reason to be shy about it now.

“If she and the others were willing to pay a price that high, what could be higher?”

“Maybe something she loved,” Amira snapped back.

“I believe your mother loved you, Amira. I believe she still does.”

Amira felt something in her going hard at that. The old guard dog of anger took a protective stance over that place in her heart where the past had left a gaping wound.

Last she’d seen her mother, the woman had allowed Amira’s wrists to be slit and her blood used to fuel the spells of the trapped Istovari sorceress. They’d left her for dead in a ruined tower and Amira had only survived because Emperor Drystan’s Kadra’han found her.

“What would you know of it?” Amira would have pushed him away, but she feared that they might fall off the porch into the mud if she did.

“Just a hunch,” Daindreth said. “What sacrifice would it have been if she didn’t value what she was giving up?” He shrugged. “Cythraul are twisted that way.”

Amira bristled. “She left me bleeding on a stone floor.”

“My mother strapped me to a silver chair and tried to give my soul to a demon.” Daindreth’s tone took on a hint of sarcasm at that. “But I believe she loves me, too. She just loves the empire—or her idea of it—more.” After a moment, Daindreth tucked Amira under his chin. “Quite the pair, aren’t we?”

Amira let off a bark of laughter, her annoyance with him fading. “We’re a mess.”

“I suppose,” was the archduke’s only reply. He kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”

He said it so easily, like they were a natural byproduct of breathing. Like it had become something easy and innate.

Amira’s heart hitched a little and she peered up at him.

“What? I’ve said it before.”

Amira straightened, twisting and rising onto her knees to bring her lips to his. She kissed him softly, gently. She felt his lips curl into a smile as he kissed her back, his warm hands sliding along her back.

She kissed the stubble along the side of his face, brushing her cheek against his. She kissed a trail down the side of his neck, exploring. Her uninjured hand stroked his side, feeling the lines of his ribs and muscles, studying the shape of him.

His breath caught as her hand wandered down his side and she grinned against his collarbone.

“I love you,” she whispered, letting her breath tickle his skin with the words. She brought her hand up to stroke his chest, playing with the strings of the simple shirt he’d had since Mynadra. “You’re the only man I’ve ever loved.”

“Only one?” he whispered back. He slid one arm around her, pulling her closer.

“Well, I hardly think kissing the laundress’s son counts.” Amira kissed his jaw, just near the corner of his mouth.

“That’s how you’re so good at this,” he teased, a playful tone entering his voice. “You’ve had practice.”

“Not a lot,” Amira giggled. “What do you take me for?”

“The love of my life,” Daindreth said, the words lingering between them for a long moment—a promise. “That’s what I take you for.”

Amira kissed him again, deeply, slowly. She savored the taste of him, the feel of him, the way his hands stroked her back.

One of his hands worked under the edge of her shirt, his fingers tracing along the skin beneath her hem.

Amira gasped as that sent shivers through her whole body. Everything in her ached for more of his touch, his warmth, his whispered endearments in her ear, his hands in her hair and sliding over her skin.

“Amira.” When he said her name, it was almost a growl, his voice low and hungry.

She nipped his earlobe, teasing. “I want you,” she whispered. “I want you so much it hurts.” And it did hurt. Her need for him was like a hard ache deep in her stomach, a burning hunger that yearned and pleaded and demanded.

Daindreth kissed her neck, leaving a trail along her throat. She tilted her head back and sighed with pleasure.

This was hardly proper behavior for a future emperor and his future empress, but no one else was here to care.

The door creaked and swung open.

Amira jumped, hackles raised, her left hand gravitating to the nearest knife at her hip. She looked up to see the farmer standing there with his wool cap limp on his head and his large hands wringing in front of him.

It was obvious enough what Amira and Daindreth had been doing, with his hands under her shirt and her partway straddling him. Daindreth flushed, color flooding his cheeks as he shifted to let Amira right herself. He kept one arm around Amira to balance her as she straightened, disentangling herself from him while trying not to fall off the narrow porch.

The farmer’s lip curled at them, like he was disgusted, but had been expecting as much. What was one supposed to think when a man and a woman traveling alone showed up in the middle of nowhere? “Storm’s letting up,” he said, gesturing to the rain. “I’m thinking you had best be going.”

Amira glanced to the rain just a few steps away. It had slowed to a sprinkle, but the skies were still far from clear. “In a hurry to have us gone?” she asked.

“I don’t want trouble,” the farmer said.

“We look like trouble to you?”

“Trouble on legs,” the farmer answered with a nod, his thick jowls clamping down on the last word like a hound on a bone. “Well-dressed, speaking with highborn accents. I don’t want no runaways hereabouts.”

Amira and Daindreth didn’t want trouble, either. The two of them thanked the farmer, though Daindreth sounded more sincere than Amira.

The two of them made their way toward the narrow lean to where they had left their horses. The farmer followed them at a safe distance. His wife watched from the open door, children clustered around her skirts. Not one of them rose higher than her waist.

Amira glanced back to them, their nervous faces, a frown creasing her brow. “Have you been expecting trouble lately?” she asked the farmer.

He glanced back to his family, shoulders hunched beneath the wide-brimmed leather hat he wore. “There’s always trouble coming from the city,” he muttered.

“Lashera?” Amira was used to the suspicious farm folk of rural Hylendale. The war had not been so long ago in the memory of many villages and communities. Most of them had a cousin, brother, or some other relative who had been killed in the battle against the sorceresses.

When the Erymayan army had come into the countryside to hunt down the sorceresses, they had not been gentle with these independent farms. Neither had Hylendale’s own army.

Every one of them was suspect for harboring or supplying the sorceresses. After all, the witches had to be getting their provisions and supplies from somewhere. Who if not these superstitious villagers?

Still, Amira pressed him. “Any special reason to expect trouble now?”

They reached the lean-to. Daindreth unlatched the paddock and stepped inside, gesturing for Amira to wait.

It was odd, be taken care of. It made her feel helpless and lazy, but at the same time...she might be able to get used to it. There was a relief in having someone take care of her, like she’d been free climbing a cliff her whole life and now suddenly had a rope to catch her if she fell.

The gruff farmer leaned against the rails of the paddock, suspiciously eyeing Daindreth as the archduke dragged out the chestnut and bay mares. “Kelpie took one of my sheep this week,” the farmer muttered. “Always a bad omen.”

“Kelpie?” Amira hadn’t heard of those in a long time. “You’re sure?”

The farmer spat, then rubbed his thick jowls. “Had to be,” he said. “Ain’t nothing else that will hunt during a thunderstorm.”

Amira frowned, thinking. “Are you sure it came during the storm? Could it have taken the sheep before or after? While you were in your house?”

“Look, girl,” the farmer said with a huff. “I knows a kelpie when I’s been robbed by a kelpie. It came out of the forest and dragged one of my best rams into the woods. Plucked him straight out of the paddock. All we found were the hooves and a bloody smear.”

Amira noticed the spikes that had been driven into the ground all the way around the paddock with crossbars nailed in place—a new addition, from the look of it. She’d wondered why the fence had been raised so high.

“We haven’t seen kelpies this far south since...” Amira frowned. Her father had put a bounty on the animals years ago. At one time, hunters could trade a kelpie’s head for its weight in gold.

Despite that, few of the bounties had been claimed as few were foolhardy enough to actually chase the animals. Those that were, were rarely heard from again.

Kelpies were crafty, some said they possessed human-like intelligence. They were also unabashedly vicious and aggressive beasts.

Amira chewed the inside of her lip.

“Storms have brought them down. That’s what it has to be,” the farmer said. “Weeks of rain. Not natural.”

Amira was almost afraid to ask, but she needed to. She knew she needed the answer for certain even if it might confirm all her worst fears.

“Weeks, you say? When did the rains start?”

The farmer cast Amira a sideways, wary look. “Where have you been, girl?”

Amira swallowed. The whole kingdom must have been suffering these past weeks, ever since Daindreth had escaped Mynadra.

“Not around here, not recently,” Amira answered.

The farmer grunted. He puffed out his chest as Daindreth wrangled the horses back through the tight press of sheep. Finally, the gruff man answered. “Must be close to a fortnight ago,” he said. “Day before, it was clear. Then at morning, the first storm rolled in. Ever since then, we’ve had nothing but rain. Bad omen, I tell you.”

If she hadn’t already been half frozen by the cold rain, Amira would have gone pale.

“We’ve angered the goddess somehow,” the farmer said, looking to the weeping sky. “Or the king has.”

Amira watched as Daindreth led the horses back, nudging the last few sheep out of the way as he reached the gate.

“Do you believe in demons, girl?” The farmer gave her a long, measured look.

Amira’s heart chilled, but she maintained her composure. This man couldn’t know who they were or know about Caa Iss. He couldn’t. She returned his look with a quirked eyebrow. “I believe in a lot of things.”

“I don’t know what’s got two young pups like you headed north. Nothing up there except one or two manor houses, a handful of garrisons, and a few other humble farmers like myself. But whatever it is that you’re looking for, you’d do best to turn back now.”

Amira blinked at him. “Why?”

“The evil always comes from the north first,” he said. “Even in the olden days when the sorceresses had their lairs in the mountains. Even before then, in the days when the goddesses fought over whose children would walk the world.”

“They’re just stories,” Amira said, even though she herself knew full well how real those stories could be.

The farmer shook his head. “I warned you, girl. Now you two be going and don’t come back here.”

Daindreth brought her horse over and Amira mounted with his help. Once in the saddle, Amira glanced over her shoulder to see him handing a silver coin to the farmer. The man’s eyes widened and so did Amira’s.

“Thank you, young sir,” the farmer said, tipping the edge of his hat. “That’s...mighty generous of you.”

Amira clenched her jaw at that. Yes, it was generous, ridiculously so.

As they rode away, Amira cast Daindreth a scathing glare. “We could have used that to buy a night at an inn back in Lashera.”

“I know.” Daindreth pulled his hood over his head. “I thought it might be a good idea to curry the man’s favor.”

“Why?”

“When we come back, we might be in need of help,” he pointed out. “I’d like to think we have someone along the road who will remember us fondly.”

It was a fair enough argument even if Amira still didn’t see it as justifying the expense.

They steered their horses back onto the narrow sheep path that qualified as a road. Their horses could barely walk side by side, but the close trees protected them somewhat from the rain still falling from overhead.

Around them, the world smoked with ka as frogs, insects, and other small forms of life ventured out into the rain. Though the furry and feathered forest animals were mostly tucked into their burrows, the trees, ferns, and other vegetation put off more ka than usual. Even the moss along the tree trunks burned brighter.

“What were the two of you talking about? You and the farmer. About evil always coming from the north?”

“Just an old superstition,” Amira answered. “Hylendale has been an ancestral home of sorceresses for a long time. Once, it was ruled by clans of sorceresses, but they were eventually consolidated into the Istovari.”

Daindreth glanced to her. “Yes, but I’m still interested in the evil part.”

“It’s folklore. More myth than fact at this point, most likely.”

“I have a myth living in my skull.” Daindreth tapped his temple as he said it. “I want to hear them.”

“Well,” Amira sighed. Her mother had taught her some of the old stories, but most of her youth, she’d only heard snatches of them from incomplete references and whispers of doom whenever people had started to fear the return of the Istovari. “There used to be sorceress collegiums in the mountains. No one really knows for sure how many. It might have been just one with multiple orders, but anyway. They got carried away.”

“Carried away?”

“With their experiments. They tried melding animals with plants. That’s how Hylendale got our spruce finches. Some animals they just modified, that’s how we got the stiltfoxes.”

Daindreth frowned, watching the forest ahead as they rode.

“Kelpies, too.”

“About that.” Daindreth pointed back to the farm, indicating the farmer that they had just left behind. “What is a kelpie?”

“A water horse,” Amira answered. “Supposedly, they live in streams and rivers, though they prefer lakes.”

“And they eat sheep, apparently?”

“They eat lots of things,” Amira answered. “But yes, they’re known to eat sheep.”

Daindreth made a sound that indicated more curiosity than concern. “They sound dangerous.”

“They are. Fortunately, they don’t usually leave the mountain rivers.”

“What possessed the sorceresses to make something like that?”

Amira had wondered that about many of her mothers’ inventions. She’d given up trying to understand those women a long time ago. “I have no idea,” she answered honestly. “Some people say that it was an effort to create a superior war steed for their sons and only a male sorcerer can tame one.”

Daindreth was quiet for a long moment. “Like one of the Kadra’han on our trail?”

Amira rolled her eyes. “Well, that would be just our luck, wouldn’t it? If Iasu came after us astride a massive man-eating hellhorse.”

Daindreth chuckled a little at that. “But the collegiums are gone,” Daindreth said, his voice returning to a serious tone. “Long before my father’s time, then.”

“Yes,” Amira confirmed. “Some of their experiments used human subjects and they took a few too many people. The land was ruled by tribal chieftains then, and a warlord’s son allied five or so clans to put them down. He nearly wiped them out, but they sued for peace in the end. That warlord married a sorceress as part of the peace terms. A few generations later, one of his descendants declared himself the first king in these lands. With what survived of the Istovari as his allies, few could stand against him.”

“Your ancestor?” Daindreth asked.

“There are a few twists and turns in the family tree, but my father’s lineage traces back him, yes. Istovari have always been close with the royals and nobles of Hylendale.”

There had been a time when sorceresses had served in the personal staffs of anyone wealthy enough to afford them, much like physicians or court musicians did now.

“What about other stories, Amira? What else do people say about the sorceresses?”

Amira looked up to the sky, now letting off no more than a light shower. She knew he had to be seeking answers in these stories, looking for some hints as to why and how he had been cursed.

“There’s one story,” she began, hesitating, “a story about the first sorceresses.”

Daindreth kept his attention on the road, but she could see his interest in the way his weight shifted, and his head tilted to bring his ear just a little closer.

“It’s an obscure myth,” Amira added. “I don’t think it’s told outside Hylendale.”

Daindreth was quiet, waiting.

“It says that when the world was new, the two moon goddesses, Moreyne and Eponine, both ruled the skies.” There were many myths about how the second moon, Moreyne, had been shattered, but none quite told it this way. The way Amira had been taught. Before now, it had never seemed more than another cultural interpretation, but now...Amira had wondered if perhaps there was more to it.

“One day, Eponine disappeared from the heavens for a hundred years. Moreyne wandered the skies alone, searching for her sister. At the end of a hundred years, Moreyne found Eponine atop a mountain weeping over a fresh grave.”

The horses rounded a bend in the road and Amira continued the story.

“Moreyne descended to the mountain and went to her weeping sister. When she asked Eponine where she had been and why she wept, Eponine said she had been unable to bear only watching humans with their laughter and love and light. So she descended to the earth to walk among them, to taste of their lives and experience the world in the colors the sun gives it. In Eponine’s travels, she met a young shepherd and loved him dearly. The past hundred years she had been his wife and watched him wither and grow old while Eponine herself remained as beautiful and eternal as the sky.”

Daindreth frowned. “They were married for a hundred years? But that means he would have had to be—”

Amira shot him a dark look. “It’s just how the story goes.”

“Sorry.”

Amira cleared her throat and went on. “Moreyne didn’t understand her sister’s grief but tried to console her and bring her back to the skies. Eponine said she would, but first must bid farewell to her children. Moreyne didn’t understand what her sister meant, but she returned with Eponine to a small village filled with the children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and even some great-great grandchildren of her sister. They were all grieving the loss of their patriarch, but upon seeing Eponine return, they rushed out to greet her. Eponine told them that the world had lost its sweetness for her now that her beloved was gone. She planned to return to the heavens and keep watch over them all. But before she left, Eponine gave a gift to her daughters.”

By all appearances, Daindreth still appeared to be paying attention. Amira had heard the story so many times in her youth that it had become droll to her. In some of the newer versions of the legend, Eponine told her daughters to do good with their gifts, but they promptly set to working evil. That wasn’t the version Amira had learned from her mother.

“Eponine taught her daughters and granddaughters how to shift and bend life—ka—so that they could heal and mend and protect even after she was gone. Just as the moon shifts the ebb and flow of the sea, so would her daughters be able to shift the ebb and flow of life. These were the first sorceresses.”

“Hmm.” Daindreth looked contemplative. “I haven’t heard this story before.”

“Of course not. It’s Istovari.”

“Is that the end?”

“No.” Amira adjusted her grip on her reins. “After Eponine and Moreyne returned to the skies, another hundred years passed. Eponine’s descendants on the earth flourished and Eponine watched over them with motherly pride. She rejoiced at their triumphs and wept with their failures. On nights when Eponine was full in the sky, they would hold celebrations under the stars, dancing on hillsides long into the wee hours of the morning.

“Moreyne saw this over time as that first clan of sorcerers and sorceresses grew and continued in their devotion to their mother goddess. Eponine’s descendants spread worship of her across the lands. Soon worship of Eponine was widespread across much of the people in the north.

“But Moreyne was jealous. She wanted her own children. She scoured the world, searching for a mate. First, she approached a shipwright, asking, ‘Would you love me as the shepherd loved my sister?’ But the shipwright sailed away, saying ‘My love is for Fenella, daughter of the sea god.’ Next Moreyne approached a woodsman, asking, ‘Would you love me as the shepherd loved my sister?’ But the woodsmen said, ‘My love is for Dyani, the maiden of the forest.’ Frustrated, Moreyne went to a king. But even the king refused her, saying ‘My love is for Anu, goddess of war who grants me victory.’”

Daindreth frowned. “Would there have even been kings in these lands at that time? Also, shipwrights weren’t a profession until—”

Amira rolled her eyes. “That’s why it’s folklore, darling. Stop interrupting.”

Daindreth shook his head. “Apologies. Continue.”

“Unable to find a man to father her children, Moreyne chose to craft them alone. So just as Eponine used the dregs of life, ka, to create magic, Moreyne used the dregs of shadows and darkness plucked from between stones. She drew forth burning rock from the heart of the earth and crafted herself children out of the basalt and obsidian.”

Daindreth didn’t comment, but his head tilted slightly toward her with interest.

“But since Eponine’s children were created through the consummation of her love for her human consort, they were beautiful, kind, wise, and good. Moreyne’s children were made from jealousy, envy, and spite. They came forth twisted and misshapen, perverted, and corrupt. Those were the first cythraul.”

Daindreth inhaled looking down the road and the narrow, winding path ahead of them. “It sounds like your people and the cythraul have long history.”

“We’re cousins, according to the lore.”

“Do you believe it?” Daindreth asked. “That you’re the descendant of a goddess?”

It was so ridiculous, Amira had to stop herself from sneering. “If I had a penny for every pharaoh or emperor who had ever claimed to be descended of the gods...”

Daindreth chuckled. “Fair enough. My ancestors claimed to be descended of Demred.”

Amira snorted. “God of retribution, yes.” All rulers claimed to be descended of the gods of war, honor, the sun, or something else grandiose and pretentious. No one ever claimed to be descended of a fish god or a hearth deity, though there were far more of those.

“If you’d known my father instead of me, you might not laugh at that.”

Amira shrugged. “Fair enough.” In her mind, she knew Daindreth was the son of Emperor Drystan the Great. She knew that his father had been the one to char the continent with ash and then wash it with blood. She knew all that, yet it was easy to forget.

Emperor Drystan had taken everything from her, from her family, and from many others. She’d cursed him a thousand times over her mother’s betrayal, banishment, and even blamed him for her own curse at one point.

Emperor Drystan was in many ways an abstract idea, a concept that was more a stand-in for all the forces that had conspired against her in the past. He was a synonym for the misfortune and mischance that had landed the daughter of a king in a Kadra’han’s vows.

Now she loved his son. One day, she might occupy the throne Emperor Drystan had won for his wife. She might even carry on Emperor Drystan’s bloodline by bearing Daindreth’s children.

It almost seemed hypocritical, but why not? Why shouldn’t she have everything that man had taken for himself?

“All the stories about cythraul origins say that Moreyne created them,” Daindreth said, breaking the silence. “In one way or another. There are many variations, but they all involve the second moon goddess forming them from the earth.”

Amira considered that for a long moment. “Caa Iss mentioned Moreyne on the night of the Blood Moon.”

“Yes,” Daindreth agreed.

“It’s still just stories.” Amira shook her head to clear the rain from her eyes. “Who really knows?”

“Do you think they know?” Daindreth asked.

“Who?”

“The Istovari. Do you think they actually know what they’ve done, what Caa Iss can do, or just that they’ve made a terrible mistake?”

“What do you mean?”

“They were desperate,” Daindreth explained, his voice going quiet. “What if they cursed my father without knowing the full implications? What if they still aren’t even sure what they did, just that they need to undo it?”

“They’re going to undo it,” Amira said flatly.

“What if they can’t?”

Amira reined her horse to a stop, fixing Daindreth in a hard glare. “They will.”

Daindreth stopped his horse, glancing back to her.

“If they need proper motivation, I’ll be sure to help them find it, but they will help you, Daindreth.” Amira’s nostrils flared.

“Amira.” Daindreth let off a long breath.

“Why are you always the first one to give up?” Amira demanded. “Why are you so ready to surrender and let that thing win? Let your mother win? Do you have any fight at all?”

Daindreth closed his eyes and turned away. “I have been fighting, Amira. I’ve been fighting for years.”

“And you’re just going to throw that all away now?” Amira stiffened in her saddle. “How can you...how can you...”

After both Amira and Thadred had proven that they were willing to see this through alongside him, after they had fought tooth and nail to break him free of the palace—how could he lack the will to live? Especially when there was so much to live for?

Wasn’t the hope of freedom enough to live for? Wasn’t she enough to live for?

Amira nudged her horse and the mare sprang into a brisk walk.

Daindreth called after her, but he sounded tired, defeated. That was the whole problem. He kept accepting defeat.

Amira kept her horse in the lead. She hunched her shoulders against the rain that still fell and fixed her attention ahead. “Come on. Thadred’s waiting.”

Chapter Sixteen

Thadred

Thadred couldn’t shake the sense that they were being followed. That should have been a good thing, but he kept feeling as if he were blind on a battlefield with enemies hovering at his back, just waiting to make the killing thrust.

Sair seemed on edge, too. She kept glancing to the right and left while keeping her head down, probably hoping that he wouldn’t see.

Who did she fear more? The Kadra’han or Amira and Dain?

Thadred supposed that in the end, he was still better off than her. He only had to evade one set of pursuers. Sair had to escape two.

Sair drew her mule to a stop and pulled Thadred’s up beside hers.

The knight glanced to her sideways, half expecting her to do something terrible.

Sair breathed deep, closing her eyes for just a moment. “The forest is alive after the rain. Can you feel it?”

Thadred could smell the damp earth and wet vegetation. In the distance, a woodchuck tittered from out of sight. A spruce finch swooped in front of them, the spines on its wings clicking ever so faintly.

At least if the animals were out and about, that probably meant the Kadra’han weren’t close, at least not within striking distance.

Sair stared at him and Thadred realized she was expecting a response.

“Feel what?”

“The ka. The life.”

“No,” Thadred said flatly.

Sair’s mouth tightened a little. “Did you try?”

Thadred rolled his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Reach for it.”

“I told you I’m not a sorcerer.”

“Yes, you are,” Sair snapped. “Not a lot of innate ability, but more than enough that it can be shaped. You should be able to feel it by now.”

“What?”

“That ring of yours blocked you from ka, but you should be able to feel it now.”

Thadred exhaled a long breath. He bit back his retort, reminded that this woman was a sorceress who had him tied to a mule. “I can’t use magic,” he said calmly. “I can’t sense it.”

Sair’s nostrils flared. “But you use it.”

Thadred shot her a sharp look. “No, I don’t.”

“You’re using magic to brace your hip,” Sair said. “It’s a strong spell. I’m guessing that it’s been in place since your fall. You’ve—” Sair glanced behind them, her knuckles paling on the reins of her mule.

“What is it?” Thadred asked softly.

“We...” Sair turned, glancing all about her. “No. Oh no...”

“What?” Something in her tone made Thadred’s blood turn cold.

Sair kicked their mules onward again.

“Sair?” Thadred tried to catch her eye, but she was focused on the road ahead. “Sair, what is it?”

“They’ve found us,” she said.

“Is this the they I’ll be happy to see?” Thadred asked, only half joking.

Sair shot him a glare. “Kadra’han,” she said. “Two of them.”

A sliver of hope worked its way into Thadred’s chest. “Two?”

“It’s not your archduke and his assassin, unless they can both use spells.” Sair glanced over her shoulder again.

“What kind of spells?” Thadred asked. “Can you tell?”

Sair shook her head. “The design of the spell is netted...but there are many options.”

“Lovely,” Thadred muttered.

“I don’t know that they’ve spotted us yet.” Sair said the words unconvincingly.

“No, but you’re pretty sure they have, aren’t you?” Thadred asked.

Sair’s mouth worked nervously, and in that moment, she looked surprisingly girlish. Thadred thought he must have misjudged her age. She couldn’t be more than thirty-five. Older than him by around a decade, but not nearly as old as he’d thought.

“Untie me,” Thadred said.

Sair shot him a glare.

“Look, I hate you, but the fact of the matter is that we need you even after Amira and Dain rescue me.” There was still the matter of getting rid of Caa Iss, after all.

“Just what do you plan to do once you’re free?” Sair demanded.

“I can help,” Thadred said. “You won’t be slowed down by having to lead my mule, for starters. And I can find a way to be useful in a fight.”

Sair rolled her eyes. “Men. Always with your fighting.”

“Well, I don’t think those Kadra’han will be interested in chatting if they catch us.” It occurred to Thadred that this was good news, at least on some level. If the Kadra’han were chasing them, that meant the assassins hadn’t yet found Amira and Dain.

Somehow, they must all be ahead of the archduke and the assassin and the Kadra’han were trying to lay a trap. That meant there was still time to turn this mess around.

Sair seemed to consider it a moment, then shook her head. “I can’t take that chance.” She spurred her mule on again, leading Thadred’s behind her. “The Cursewood should be close,” Sair muttered, more to herself it seemed. “Within the next few miles.”

But a few miles through the forest could take hours, especially as the growth thickened and the damp earth made the going slow. The mules couldn’t move more than a few miles in an hour and that was still faster than Sair and Thadred would have been on foot.

“If they’re on our trail, we’ll never make it that far,” Thadred stated. “And if they’re here, they’re on our trail.”

Sair kept her shoulders hunched and continued on.

Thadred wasn’t sure how far away the Kadra’han might be, but he doubted that being quiet would keep them from finding him.

“I’ve trained with Kadra’han, Sair. I might not be an assassin, but before my mishap, I got to know them quite well. They will never stop. They don’t give up. They can’t.”

“Do not speak to me of being hunted!” Sair snarled. “You know nothing.”

“Too bad you attacked Amira and ran off. Dain could have helped you.” Thadred studied the trees around them—trees were all that was visible in every direction.

“Shut up.” Sair yanked the reins of his mule this time, causing the animal to jolt forward. “They’ll hear you.”

“I’m guessing they don’t need to hear me to find us.” Thadred straightened in the saddle, then realized that might have been a bad idea. He grimaced as his hip twinged. “You’re outnumbered, Sair. You won’t make it to the Cursewood in time, but for once, our interests are aligned.”

“You’re a Kadra’han, too,” Sair reminded him. “The Kadra’han of my enemy. What compulsions and commands might be in place over you? I’m not so much of a fool as to risk it.”

“Dain hasn’t given me any commands, not any that are still in place, anyway.”

“I happen to know that a Kadra’han’s bond does not preclude lying,” Sair clipped.

That statement was true, but Thadred happened to be telling the truth. The night after the docks, when Dain had been rescued by Amira and brought to their getaway boat, he’d released all his previous commands over Thadred, more than a little sheepishly.

Still. There was no way to prove that to the grouchy sorceress leading his mule.

“I have no way to know for sure and no reason to trust you and those Kadra’han could be working with you for all I know and...” Sair cut herself off, taking a deep breath. Her shoulders rose and fell in quick succession.

“Merciful Mother.” Thadred blinked. “You’re afraid.”

Sair said nothing, kicking her mule on faster. The animal barreled through the low undergrowth, slogging in mud and greenery and crunching branches underfoot.

Thadred’s mule slipped and had to scramble to right itself. Sair quickly let out extra lead rope to give the animal its head.

Thadred clung to the pommel of the saddle, teeth gritted. The animal’s left shoulder dropped and for one instant he had a vision of his courser stumbling under him, tumbling and rolling down the side of the hill, crushing him underneath it and—

The mule righted itself, legs splayed and panting.

Thadred clung to the pommel, heart pounding. He blinked at the ground, just to assure himself that it wasn’t rising up to meet him.

“Untie me,” Thadred said.

“You won’t—”

“Look, I’m unarmed and wouldn’t be making it far on foot anyway. It’s not like I’ll be fleeing, but at least I can help you not have to worry about me.”

Sair shook her head violently. “No.”

“Sair. We have a common enemy.”

The sorceress kept her back squarely turned, not daring to look around.

“Sair—”

Silence slammed into Thadred. He didn’t know how else to say it. All at once, the world went quiet.

The stillness was an almost palpable thing that pressed in over his ears and around him. His ears popped and even the faint jingle of the mules’ bits and bridles came as if far away, as if from underwater.

Shadows grew thicker and the cloudy sky grew darker. Then he could have sworn the shadows beneath the trees bled mist.

Thadred thought he was blacking out at first. “What’s...” He shook his head.

“The Cursewood,” Sair said. “It takes a bit of getting used to, especially the first time.”

Thadred shook his head. “We’re in the Cursewood?”

“Not yet,” Sair said. “The outskirts. The blackbriars don’t extend this far.”

They continued on and Thadred couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something.

Sair’s mule tripped, squealing as it went down. The sorceress pitched forward, tumbling to the ground in a flurry of pale legs and grey skirts.

“Sair?” Thadred’s first impulse was to go to her, but his hands were tied to his saddle, reminding him why he was here in the first place.

The sorceress righted herself, cursing. When he saw she wasn’t hurt, just covered in mud and annoyed, it took more than a little self-control to keep from making a jibe, but he kept his mouth shut.

Motion burst from his left and a figure in black closed in. Thadred had just an instant to realize what was happening, just an instant to realize they were trapped.

He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but it was already too late.

A net flew from the shadows and slammed over Sair.

She went down with a cry of terror, a sound that made something masculine and noble in Thadred want to protect her, but there was nothing he could do.

Two of the Kadra’han scrambled from the cover of the trees to tackle the sorceress, pinning her down. One of them planted his knee between her shoulder blades and drew a knife.

“Don’t hurt her!” Thadred found himself shouting. “She’ll be useful.”

The Kadra’han with the knife looked up and Thadred’s gut sank. He knew this face, almost boyish with skin bronzed to a dark tan.

A third Kadra’han grabbed the reins of Thadred’s mule easily enough. Thadred hated that it was easy. Thadred didn’t know the man, but he knew the small figure in black with his knee on Sair’s spine.

“Iasu, listen, she’s worth more to you alive.”

Sair laid still, her face pressed into the damp mud. She didn’t make so much as a sound.

“She knows where the rest of the Istovari sorceresses are,” Thadred said. Thinking on his feet had never been his strong suit, but it was all he could come up with. “That’s where she was taking me. If you capture her alive, she can help you rout out the rest of them.”

“No!” Sair let off a wordless scream at that, kicking and struggling against the Kadra’han. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “How could you—?”

“Shut up.” Thadred didn’t take his eyes off Iasu. “Just keep her alive for now. Until after you’ve questioned her.”

“You’re a bastard!” Sair cried.

“Yes, we’ve established that,” Thadred clipped.

“Why do you want her alive?” Iasu asked. His accent was after the imperial dialect, not a trace of his native language left in it.

“I just don’t like the idea of murdering unarmed women,” Thadred answered honestly. “But she does know the way to the other sorceresses.”

The small assassin looked to the Kadra’han holding Thadred’s reins. “What do you say?”

The third Kadra’han was perhaps close to forty or forty-five. Grey peppered his short beard. The fact that he’d simply caught Thadred’s reins while the others tackled the sorceress showed his seniority.

The older Kadra’han seemed to consider it for a moment. “She could be valuable yet. Bind and gag her. Be sure she can’t use spells.”

Sair screamed in protest as the Kadra’han dragged her to a nearby rock. They secured a cuff around one wrist and used the hilt of a dagger to hammer a pin in place, immovably locking it around her arm. It hung on her far too large. It wasn’t connected to anything but Sair and looked harmless at a glance, but Thadred recognized the dark metal.

Tenebrous steel—a blend of metals developed by imperial alchemists to resist spells. It was expensive—even by imperial standards—rare, and few had even heard of it since the emperor had eradicated the sorceresses and removed the need for it not long after its discovery. But Thadred’s ring was made of the stuff and a few imperial alchemists still knew the secrets to make it.

It had been developed to shield the wearer from magical attacks, but Thadred now guessed it could also cut a sorceress off from her power.

Sair shouted curses and obscenities at them and Thadred until the moment the gag was in place. If she hadn’t hated him before, she certainly did now.

The senior Kadra’han glanced over Thadred and tested the ropes Sair had used to secure him in place.

“Our girl was quite thorough.” Thadred glared at the older man. “I can’t get out of these. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“Hmm,” was all the Kadra’han said. He kept checking the bonds all the same. Not that Thadred had expected anything different.

The two Kadra’han dragged Sair to her feet. She kicked and struggled but it gained her nothing.

The lead Kadra’han took the reins of Thadred’s mule and Sair’s. As he led the animals back, he kicked at a set of narrow black cords lashed low to the ground between the trees.

So that had been what had tripped up their animals—snares.

“This way,” the older Kadra’han said, jerking his head toward the trees on one side. He led the mule carrying Thadred and Sair’s riderless animal between two oaks laden with dangling streamers of moss.

Thadred had to duck to keep from hitting his head on the branches overhead. Just like that, Thadred and Sair had gone from being a sorceress and her prisoner to being fellow prisoners of the Kadra’han.

It was strange how things could change in a matter of minutes.

“Now what?” Thadred inhaled a long breath.

The Kadra’han didn’t respond, but they didn’t need to.

Now, Thadred would be bait—for the second time this week.

Chapter Seventeen

Amira

Amira didn’t find the trail of the sorceress and Thadred. What she found was possibly worse.

“Daindreth!” she cried, dismounting her horse and kneeling over a print on the ground.

“What?” He crouched beside her, studying the shapes imprinted in the mud. “What is it?”

“These tracks,” she gestured to the marks left in the soft ground, “weren’t made by mules. They’re too big.”

“The kelpie?”

Amira shook her head, heart in her throat. “No, look.”

Daindreth leaned over to study the prints more closely. “This horse was shod.”

Amira nodded, biting her lip. “There were at least two horses. Maybe three. They rode single file.”

“To hide their numbers?”

Amira shook her head. “To leave a clear trail.”

Daindreth sat back on his heels. “What makes you say that?”

Amira was quiet for a moment. How to explain it? “They can’t be merchants or messengers this far north, not if they were on these backwater trails. Even if a courier or two did happen to pass this way, their horses would only be shod in the front, if at all. These horses have been shod on all four hooves. They’re from the central empire.”

Kadra’han. Neither of them said it, but they both knew.

“This is a trap,” Daindreth stated. “How did they get ahead of us? Why are they letting us find their trail?”

“I don’t know,” Amira muttered. “It’s possible they were able to ride faster. Maybe they’re just hoping we’ll turn back if we think they’re in front of us.”

“We won’t leave Thadred,” Daindreth said firmly, leaving no room for discussion, not that Amira had expected one.

“No,” Amira agreed with a sigh as she stood. “We won’t.”

Daindreth stood with her and the two of them made their way to their horses.

The rain had stopped and that was a small mercy. They’d been riding for six hours since leaving the farm.

She could only guess at how far ahead the sorceress might be. They couldn’t be moving fast off the main roads with two mules and a captive, but how far was the Cursewood from here?

If the sorceress made it inside the Cursewood, Daindreth and Amira would never be able to find their way. All the stories spoke of tangled paths and twisting, treacherous byways. What hope would they have against that?

Amira spurred her little bay mare onward, a hundred possibilities and dangers swirling through her head. “Cromwell.”

“What?” Daindreth asked.

“He gave the mules to the sorceress.”

“Yes?”

“That bead,” Amira said, mind whirring. “That tracker that Iasu tried to place in our saddlebags in Lashera.”

Daindreth cursed. “You think it came from the sorceresses?”

“It’s possible. It seems likely.” Especially because their enemies conspiring together was just the sort of misfortune Amira had come to expect from their travels.

“But why?” Daindreth asked. “If the Kadra’han and sorceresses were in league and Cromwell serves the sorceresses, why would Cromwell help us escape? You don’t know that’s what happened,” Daindreth reminded her. “They might not be tracking the sorceress. For all we know, we’re not even behind them. They could be following us and those tracks could belong to someone else.”

Amira shook her head. She always preferred to expect and plan for the worst scenario. “If the past is any indication...no. We can expect the worst.”

Daindreth let off a long breath. “So what do we do?”

Amira blew a strand of hair back from her eyes. “We keep following the sorceress. Once we find her, we free Thadred and persuade her to take us into the Cursewood.” Amira hated that plan even as it was coming out of her mouth, but there were precious other options.

Then again, they weren’t even sure they were following the sorceress. What if this was all just a fool’s errand?

Amira’s head ached. There was only one way to succeed—find the sorceress before she crossed into the Cursewood, rescue Thadred, then get Sairydwen to take them to see the Istovari mothers. At the same time, there were a myriad of ways to fail.

They could be captured by the Kadra’han, led into a trap by the Kadra’han, or fail to catch up with the sorceress before she dragged Thadred into the Cursewood. They could stumble straight into the Cursewood without realizing it and die in its maze.

Amira could be killed in an ambush on the road by the roaming kelpie and then Daindreth would be left alone and vulnerable to the Kadra’han without any hope of help from the Istovari.

Worst of all, it was still possible that even if everything succeeded, even if Amira and Daindreth rescued Thadred, persuaded Sairydwen to help them, and reached the Istovari mothers safely—after all that—those crusty old hags might still refuse to help them. The sorceresses might even kill Amira and Daindreth on sight, Thadred, too.

Amira squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, wishing she could push away all the possible failures and disasters that whirred through her head.

The assassin cocked her head to the side, hackles rising. Her heart sped up and she turned to the left, realization dawning on her.

A shadow moved at her back, a shape that stood out incongruous in the surrounding forest. It was more an outline of ka, a faint glow of light that hovered at her back.

Amira wanted to reach for her weapon, but couldn’t with both hands on the reins. “Daindreth—”

An arrow buzzed over them, narrowly missing Amira’s back. She dropped low in the saddle and spurred her horse.

Daindreth wasn’t far behind as arrows zipped past them, missing, but loosed in such rapid succession, there seemed to be ten archers.

Amira searched the trees for the telltale ka, but could find nothing beyond the smog of life created by the forest.

She and Daindreth rode as fast as they dared, horses kicking up clods of mud and bits of vegetation in their wake. A branch whipped Amira’s cheek, but she kicked her horse faster.

The hammering of hooves echoed behind them a moment later. The Kadra’han archer had somehow managed to conceal himself and his horse in the woods without her noticing.

Perhaps that trick she’d figured out in the warehouse to disguise ka wasn’t so special after all.

“There’s just one,” Amira shouted to Daindreth over the whipping of the wind and the thunder of their horse’s hooves. “I think,” she added.

“Where are the others?” Daindreth shouted back. There had to be more. There had to be.

“I don’t know!” She ducked as another arrow skidded for her.

Daindreth swung his gaze back behind them. “He’s only aiming for you!”

“They need you alive,” Amira reminded him. That was the bargain with Caa Iss. Since Daindreth had no other living relatives—on the male side, at least—the demon needed Daindreth to keep using the curse of the Istovari.

“In front of me,” Daindreth ordered. He checked his mare’s reins just enough that she pulled back a stride. “You lead!”

Amira hated that idea, but it was a tactical decision. Crouched low, she spurred her mare on faster, shouting at the small horse as they ploughed through the wild forest.

“Come on, girl.”

Her mare was spirited, but had been worn down by days of travel, same with Daindreth’s horse. The Kadra’han horse seemed better rested.

Amira caught a glimpse of the enemy horse and rider as they rounded a thick copse of trees with the roots tangled together in a snarl on the ground.

The Kadra’han was a dark figure in a leather jerkin and the light armor of an archer. His archer’s hood was flung back as he rode, but at this distance, she could make out little of his face. He had the broad shoulders and muscular arms of a bowman, but also the lean, litheness to him that most Kadra’han had. They were trained for stealth, speed, and swift kills, not brawls on the battlefield or for swinging axes.

It wasn’t Iasu. This man was too tall.

He rode with the reins lashed to the pommel of his saddle, steering his horse with his heels and bodyweight. He straightened and drew back for another shot, but Daindreth saw the man’s arm recoil and swerved his horse between Amira and the archer.

Amira’s heart leapt in her throat, but the archer held back. Just as Daindreth had thought, the man wouldn’t risk striking the archduke.

Amira turned her attention back to the front. Could they outrun the Kadra’han? Maybe, but not likely.

Amira kicked her mare on faster and faster, but there was only so fast they could move in the dense underbrush.

The ground began to slope, gradually at first and then more noticeably. Amira made a quick decision and veered her mount toward the slope, down the side of the hill at an angle.

The Kadra’han stayed in hot pursuit, his dark bay horse barreling after them, keeping pace easily.

Amira’s mare wobbled, skidding and stomping awkwardly on the uneven ground while weaving between the trees.

Daindreth kept his horse between Amira and the other Kadra’han. Thankfully, the Kadra’han’s own horse jostled and jerked down the slope, making it all but impossible for the rider to get a clean shot.

Amira’s small mare swerved around a tree and tripped over an exposed root, but regained her footing and continued on with a snort.

“Good girl,” Amira panted, shooting another glance over her shoulder. “That’s a good girl.”

They reached the bottom of the hill and the horses scrambled onto gravel, then splashed into shallow water. A bank of tiny stones skittered under their hooves as they came out onto a clear tract that cut through the woods.

“Come on,” Amira shouted, jerking her head to Daindreth and spurring her mare along the path of the riverbed.

The Kadra’han burst out after them and checked his horse to a stop. The animal planted its hooves firmly, heaving like a plough horse at the end of the last furrow.

The archer straightened, raised his bow, and pulled back his arm in one smooth motion. Amira almost envied the easy grace of his movements. He had probably spent a lifetime perfecting his art. She respected him as much as she wished she could punch a knife through his eye right now or even send a bolt of ka through him. Try as she might, she couldn’t gather enough ka to herself for another attack.

Her heart was beating too fast, her focus scattered. She needed to stop and reorient herself before she used magic at that strength again.

Up ahead, the river forked, one branch taking a sharp turn. Amira’s first thought was that it would be the perfect place for an ambush. She almost steered her horse straight ahead, away from the turn, but she’d picked this route and she didn’t sense any other large sources of ka ahead.

She turned her horse toward the sharper, rockier outcrop. Pebbles and mud skidded under her horse’s hooves as the little mare careened into the open.

Daindreth followed, his horse galloping after her. He cast a glance over his shoulder and Amira guessed that the Kadra’han was probably a horse length or so behind them.

Up ahead, the rocks grew larger. Boulders dotted the sides of the riverbed and Amira had to weave her mare between them.

The little mare panted, sweat lathering her neck and shoulders. Amira gave the mare more rein, and dropped lower over the saddle. “Come on,” she muttered against the wind. “Come on!”

They pressed on with the Kadra’han still in hot pursuit. The trees swept back and the riverbed opened up, rocks and stones panning out around them.

Amira craned her neck, searching for something to use, something to give them an advantage over their pursuer. She spotted a jutting ledge to the left, rising up and curving out from the side of the incline. She had barely a handful of minutes to make her decision. She swerved her mare toward the edge of the cliff so that they were sheltered under the rock overhang.

No sooner had she put the stones between her and the Kadra’han than she swerved her mare around. The little horse pivoted with surprising speed, whirling in a full about face.

Amira had to grab a fistful of mane to keep from flying off. She leaned back, calling the mare to a stop.

The horse jerked to a halt, all four hooves planted at odd angles.

Daindreth overshot past them before pulling his horse back around. “Amira! What is it?”

Amira dropped her reins, facing the direction they’d come, the direction the assassin would have to come if he wanted to keep chasing them. “I’m done running.” She raised her hands and closed her eyes, focusing.

She heard Daindreth move up beside her. “Amira...” His horse shifted and she heard him draw his sword.

Amira pulled ka to her in wisps and threads and streamers. It took several moments for her to gather enough to form a shape. Then she spooled it, wrapping and tightening it into a bolt in the air in front of her, just as she had done with that soldier back in Phaed.

Breath coming in gasps and her mare heaving under her, Amira forced herself to focus, snatching at as much ka as she could muster.

Her heart thundered in her ears, but she called on every bit of discipline pounded into her over a lifetime as a Kadra’han.

She drew the bolt of magic tighter and tighter. The other assassin might have a means of deflecting her spell for all she knew. He certainly seemed to have had some way of masking his own ka back there in the forest.

It didn’t matter. Amira and Daindreth couldn’t outrun him forever, an ambush was their only chance.

They waited. Nothing happened.

Amira cocked her head at a sensation from above. Her eyes flew open, and she tilted her head back.

“He’s above us,” Amira whispered. She twisted in her saddle, but she and Daindreth were shielded by the overhanging rock.

Unless the assassin wanted to send a rockslide down on them both—and risk killing the precious archduke—there was nothing he could do.

She frowned up at the rocks. Faintly, she caught the huffing of the assassin’s horse overhead. He’d ridden to the edge of the outcrop above them. He wasn’t trying for stealth, or he would have left his horse behind.

Amira craned her neck, squinting, shifting her magic bolt. She wondered if she could force ka through stone.

Something clattered and overshot above their heads. Amira ducked and pulled her horse closer to the cliff face, frantically gesturing for Daindreth to do the same.

The object landed some twenty paces or so away, bouncing a few times on the gravel before settling on the rock. Part of it glinted silver.

“We have the bastard,” a male voice shouted from overhead, the Kadra’han. “And the sorceress. If you want him, come and get him.”

Daindreth’s eyes widened as his gaze settled on the object thrown from above. His mouth tightened in anger.

It took Amira an instant longer, but she recognized the dark wood and the silver cap at one end. Thadred’s cane sword.

The Kadra’han’s horse wickered above them. Amira felt his ka gradually recede as he rode away. He didn’t spur his horse or gallop, he just walked the animal at an easy pace.

He must have been sent to kill her and, failing that, been told to make sure that she and the archduke were lured into a trap. The Kadra’han had been sent by Vesha and Vesha knew her son well.

Daindreth would never abandon his cousin. Amira knew it, too, and she hated the Kadra’han all the more for using that against him.

Amira looked to Daindreth. His eyes were fixed on the cane, a deathly pallor settling over his features. “Daindreth?”

“They have him,” Daindreth said softly. He looked to Amira and she saw fear, real and true fear in his face. “They have Thadred and I—”

“We’ll get him back,” Amira said, determination making her voice hard. “We’ll figure out something. I’ve taken on more than this and won.”

“You had the element of surprise then,” Daindreth reminded her. “And they underestimated you.”

Amira bit her lip, thinking. “Short of leaving Thadred behind...”

Daindreth exhaled a long breath and raked a hand through his hair. “We can’t.”

“I know.” Amira swallowed. They couldn’t leave Thadred behind, but they couldn’t rescue him either. They stood no chance.

Despite Amira’s bravado, Daindreth was right when he said she wouldn’t stand a chance against these Kadra’han. Any fool could see that.

“Do you think she’s in on it? The sorceress?” Daindreth asked.

Amira considered that for a moment. The past few days had made her as suspicious as anyone. Even she had to admit that seemed unlikely now. “No. There’s not a good reason to drag Thadred out here if she was working with the Kadra’han. They’d have captured us back in Lashera.”

Daindreth nodded. “Maybe we can count on her help when we go against the Kadra’han.”

“Maybe. If she’s still alive.” Amira hesitated. “That’s still two sorceresses and one and a half swords against four fully equipped Kadra’han.”

“One and a half?”

Amira shrugged. “I’m counting Thadred as a half.”

“He’s a good fighter, Amira.”

“In the saddle, maybe. He won’t have a horse. And need I remind you that we have to free both him and the sorceress first?”

Daindreth exhaled a long breath.

Amira rubbed her mare’s reins against her forehead with her free hand. “We should start tracking that Kadra’han now,” she said.

After carefully reaching out and confirming that the ka of the other assassin was still moving away from the cliff face, Amira walked her mare out of the shelter of the rocks.

Daindreth stopped his horse to collect Thadred’s sword cane—chipped and scratched as it was. He fell in line behind Amira with a dour, firm set to his jaw. Amira imagined she looked much the same.

If nothing else, her relationship with Daindreth had led her to take stupidity to new and exciting heights. A few weeks ago, she’d thought her idiocy had peaked with leading a one-woman raid on the imperial palace. Now it was about to peak again.

She looked back to Daindreth. For a moment, she remembered the heat of his kiss and the feel of his hands stroking her back. She remembered how he had protected her, cared for her, even when she’d been at her worst. Even when she had resisted him as an enemy and held nothing back in showing her hatred.

He was good. He was kind. And she would follow him to the ends of the earth. Even into a Kadra’han ambush.

“The things I do for love,” she sighed.

Chapter Eighteen

Daindreth

They left the gorge and the shelter of the rocks and followed the trail left by the archer. Daindreth couldn’t see it, but Amira said the man’s ka was up ahead. As they followed that trail, a war fought inside him.

He was used to fighting Caa Iss in his head, but today he fought himself. Daindreth rode close beside Amira, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t leave Thadred. Couldn’t.

But at the same time, how could he ask Amira to come with him into a known trap set by his mother’s Kadra’han?

“Amira,” Daindreth reined in his horse to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” Amira didn’t look at him, instead searching their surroundings. “What is it?”

“No. I...” He touched her shoulder.

She looked at him. “What?”

He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Go into the forest with me. Go after the Kadra’han.”

“What options are there?”

Daindreth looked ahead, jaw locking as he considered it. “If I’m taken by them, you and Thadred will no longer be worth anything alive.”

Amira inhaled, straightening in her saddle. “That’s correct. They likely have orders to kill both of us, considering how troublesome we’ve been.”

“Thadred is only valuable as a hostage to get me to comply, but they don’t need me cooperative to take me back to Mynadra.” There were four of them and Daindreth knew better than to think he’d be any real challenge for them. He shuddered to remember several weeks ago when his mother had ordered him bound and shackled to a silver chair.

Caa Iss had been eager, almost giddy when he thought he was about to have full control. The disappointment had enraged the demon. Now whenever he got the chance, Caa Iss hammered at Daindreth’s thoughts relentlessly and without mercy.

“Well, what do you suggest we do instead?” Amira asked shortly. “We can’t leave Thadred behind.”

“But we can’t rescue him, either,” Daindreth said. “Can we?”

Amira swallowed and looked away. “If we can free the other sorceress—”

Daindreth rested his hand on her shoulder. “I almost lost you the last time. If I lose you...”

Amira bit her lip, looking up at him with those deep green eyes that reminded him of rolling hills and open spaces. “I don’t want you to have to choose between protecting me and saving your brother.”

He loved that she knew his and Thadred’s relationship well enough to call them brothers.

“You wouldn’t ask me to sacrifice Fonra,” she said. “I can’t ask you to—”

“You didn’t ask,” Daindreth answered, fighting to speak past the tearing sensation in his chest. “This is my decision.”

Her eyes widened. “You...you want to leave Thadred behind?”

“No,” Daindreth said quickly. “No, it’s not what I want, but...” He took a deep breath. “If we go for him now, you’ll both end up dead and Caa Iss will win.” He shook his head. “Without the two of you, I can’t fight him.” Daindreth cradled the side of her face, feeling the warmth, the life in her skin. “If I fall to the cythraul...” He swallowed. “He will unleash a reign of terror that makes my father look like a goodly saint.”

Amira’s mouth flattened into a line. “What are you thinking, then?”

Daindreth withdrew his hand from her cheek, bracing himself to say the words out loud. “We head straight for the Cursewood.”

“Without a guide?” Amira’s voice dropped. “That’s insanity.”

“Yes, so you’ve told me.”

“Daindreth, that whole place is a death trap. Some people say it is death.”

“Death is what waits for us in that ambush,” Daindreth argued, words coming more easily now that he’d gotten out the first few. “The Kadra’han will follow us into the Cursewood, I’m certain.”

“They won’t get far,” Amira quipped back. “Because we won’t, either.”

Daindreth looked to her. “The blackbriars were created the same day as my curse, weren’t they?”

Amira grimaced. “That’s the common consensus, yes.”

“So, if you have authority over Caa Iss, perhaps you have authority in the Cursewood, too.” Daindreth hadn’t realized that this had occurred to him until he spoke it out loud.

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Still. Amira didn’t sound so certain. She muttered something under her breath. “We can’t take a gamble on possibilities, Daindreth.”

“Isn’t that what we’re already doing?” Daindreth pointed out. “We’re gambling with the hope that the Kadra’han will have made a mistake and we can rescue Thadred and the sorceress. But don’t we have better odds this way?”

Amira was quiet for a long moment. She looked back to Daindreth and let out a long breath. “This is madness. You know that, right?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head. “We’ll never make it, Daindreth. People who wander into the Cursewood without knowing the way never make it out.”

“We don’t need to make it out. We just need the Kadra’han to bring us the sorceress. If they caught Thadred, they must have her. They know the stories of the Cursewood as well as you do,” Daindreth reminded her. “Maybe even better. They’ll force her to show them the way. Once we get into the Cursewood, we’ll be blind and surrounded by danger, but they will be, too.”

Amira shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. “Have I ever explained to you just what lives in the Cursewood?”

“Does it change the truth?” Daindreth asked. He couldn’t back down, not now. “That this is the only way we can steal the upper hand?”

“We won’t be stealing the upper hand,” Amira snapped. “We’ll just be cutting off everyone’s hands.”

“Equal footing, then.” Daindreth’s heart beat a little faster as he became more certain. “We can do this.”

“Going into the Cursewood will be like cutting off our feet, too,” quipped Amira. “This is just a middle finger to the Kadra’han. Mutually assured destruction.”

“But they have to follow us,” Daindreth reminded her. “Their vows will leave them no choice.”

Amira rolled her eyes. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“I’m counting on them bringing the sorceress and Thadred to us. On our terms.”

“The Cursewood is not our terms!” Amira insisted. “It’s not anyone’s terms! Wilderness—that’s what the Cursewood is, Daindreth. Think of all the worst aspects of nature and imagine them concentrated in one place. The plants are poisonous, the ground is shifting and inconstant. There are a host of animals waiting to kill you and not natural ones, either. Kelpies, stiltfoxes, direwolves, leeches the size of snakes. Toxic gases rise from holes in the earth. The land is under a curse in every sense of the word.”

Daindreth exhaled a long breath. “I know it’s madness, Amira. But this whole errand was madness from the start. We all knew that.”

Amira looked ahead, to where the Kadra’han had gone. Her brows were pinched and her face was lined with warring emotions. She chewed her lip, adjusting her grip on her horse’s reins.

“I trust you, Amira,” Daindreth said. “I trust your judgment. Now I’m asking you to trust mine.” He touched her chin with a finger and gently pulled her around to face him. “It’s madness. It’s a fool’s hope. But it’s our only hope. Our only real hope.”

Amira held his gaze for a long moment and then let off a lengthy sigh. “The Cursewood extends across the entire northern hills,” she said. “If we just head north, we’ll hit it eventually.” She jerked her head a little to their left, diverging from the Kadra’han’s path. “That way.”

Daindreth nodded. “Thank you.”

“Remember saying that when we’re up to our necks in leeches,” she clipped.

Daindreth ignored the brief doubt that flashed through him because it didn’t matter. They didn’t have a better option.

He let Amira lead the way. She barely spoke as she did.

“How can you tell which direction is north?” he asked, motioning to the overcast sky. The darkening clouds promised rain before too long.

“I can’t,” Amira admitted. “But the ka is different up ahead.”

“Different?”

“Noxious,” she answered. “Sickly.”

That sounded about right. He wouldn’t have expected different from a place under a curse.

Daindreth kept a sharp eye out and Amira kept glancing left to right, searching for signs that the Kadra’han had decided to chase them again.

They continued in silence. Something tickled at the back of his neck. Something he couldn’t quite name, but it wouldn’t leave him alone.

Something about the silence made it seem wrong to speak, like words would expose them. When he looked to Amira, he whispered, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Do you sense anything of the other Kadra’han?”

Amira shook her head. “Nothing. Not since the archer rode into the forest. Though he could be using another concealment spell.”

“Concealment spell?”

“That’s how he was able to sneak up on us,” Amira said. “It seems like a...more advanced version of what I did in the warehouse.” She admitted the last part of her sentence begrudgingly, like it pained her to own up to the fact that other sorcerers were more skilled. “Anyway. Nothing otherwise.”

Daindreth glanced over his shoulder and edged his horse closer to Amira. In this forest with the trees so close together, the fog, and two moving targets, not even the best archer could be sure of a clean shot. The Kadra’han probably wouldn’t risk shooting and potentially striking the archduke, but Daindreth would rather not take the chance.

The air thickened. It wasn’t quite a stench and it wasn’t precisely a change in temperature, but the air felt different as he drew it into his lungs. Heavier. It stung his nose and grated his chest as he breathed in. Was this the poisonous gases Amira had warned him about?

Daindreth glanced behind him again, to assure himself that the Kadra’han archer and none of the others were there. When he looked back, he saw the border of the Cursewood.

It loomed in front of them—a dark mass with tendrils that reminded Daindreth of a nest of snakes. Fingers of black extended out from the mass to wrap around and tangle in the trees, spreading into the rest of the forest vein by vein like an infection.

“Blackbriars,” Amira said, nudging her mare on when the horse hesitated.

Daindreth swallowed and checked over his shoulder one more time before kicking his own mare after her.

The black veins spread around the ground and snaked through the trees over their heads. They spread up and wreathed the ferns, or what had once been ferns. The blackbriars had completely covered much of the smaller foliage, leaving eerie black shapes in their wake.

The older branches of the blackbriars had hardened into stony formations, dark as coal. They grew over the trunks of trees and slithered across the ground in twisting patterns. Some of the black veins squelched under their horses’ hooves and others crunched, breaking into pieces.

Daindreth’s mare stepped on one of the older veins and her hoof slid off like she’d stepped on polished stone. She snorted as she regained her footing and took care to avoid the black veins after that.

As they passed under the canopy, Daindreth had the sense of entering a giant maw. The nest of blackbriars swallowed them up as it had swallowed the forest around them.

“See the hard veins?” Amira said, pointing to the dark tendril that had betrayed his horse. “That means this is a permanent boundary of the Cursewood. Or soon will be.”

“Meaning...?”

“It might flare up and extend behind us.”

“So...we could have to travel farther to get out than we had to travel to get in?”

“Yes. That’s about it,” Amira confirmed. “Say what you want about them, but my mothers know how to make curses.”

Daindreth looked up to the black canopy overhead. The blackbriars had embedded themselves in the trees and even laced through their leaves. Daindreth would think the weight of the blackbriars would bow the trees, but it looked as if the blackbriars had locked the tree in place exactly as it was, then set to the work of encasing it in ropes of the curse.

They reached a tree more advanced in the infection state not fifty paces past the border. This pine tree was roped and coiled in the vines, its narrow branches and even the individual needles on its boughs frozen in place, preserved, and cast in the hard black rock like a statue.

“The stories don’t do this place justice,” Daindreth mused.

“No,” Amira agreed, then fell silent.

Daindreth looked back again. Already, Daindreth could see no sign of the healthy forest they had just left. All around them were the unforgiving, relentless black vines wrapping in every direction like a giant parasite.

“This is just the edge,” Amira said flatly. “When we get deep into the Cursewood, that’s where the real fun will start.” A sarcastic, cynical edge entered her voice. “You were right about one thing,” she muttered. “This is the last thing any Kadra’han would expect us to do. They think we’re sane.”

“I didn’t hear any better suggestions from you back there,” Daindreth reminded her.

“Fair enough.” Amira pushed back the cowl of her cloak and reined in her horse.

“What is it?” Daindreth cast his gaze in every direction, one hand going to his sword. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing in particular.” Taking a deep breath, Amira reached for the water canteen at her side. She took a few sips and passed it to Daindreth. “Drink. I’m not sure if that water will keep.”

Daindreth took the canteen from her hand. “Keep?”

“Water goes putrid in the Cursewood. Or so I’ve heard.”

Daindreth took a long drink and then handed it back to Amira. “You finish it off.”

“You weigh more than me,” Amira said flatly.

“You’re the one they’ll attack first,” Daindreth countered.

Amira rolled her eyes, but finished the canteen and screwed the cap back on carefully, her brow furrowed in concentration. She shoved it back in her pack, gathered the reins, and nudged her mare forward again.

As they traveled on, sometimes the woods were so thick that they seemed to be riding at dusk or early dawn. Other times, the forest was almost sunny, though he never quite glimpsed the sun.

Sometimes the woods were silent, and the beat of his heart sounded loud as a drum in his ears. Other times, the chirping of cicadas was almost deafening, and the croak of frogs seemed loud enough to burst his eardrums.

Mists rose in some places, waving up from the ground in smoky tendrils. It might have been Daindreth’s imagination, but he could have sworn that the tendrils reached for their horses as they passed.

Amira drew her horse to a halt in front of him.

“What is it?” Daindreth whispered.

“Shh!” She crouched low in her saddle, craning her neck to see ahead. “Something’s moving up there.”

Daindreth drew his sword as quietly as he could, but his mare still snorted and shuffled her hooves. She was a rouncey meant for riding across the countryside, not a knight’s horse. Swords and fighting were foreign and frightening to this animal.

Still, Daindreth would have to find a way to fight from horseback if—

The dark tangle of black ahead of them shifted and a pair of antlers poked out.

Daindreth almost breathed a sigh of relief.

A young buck stepped out ahead of them, ears flicking. It studied them with large eyes, sniffing at the horses.

Daindreth had never seen a deer so calm up close before. Always, he’d been chasing them with a team of hounds rushing around his mount’s legs.

The deer shifted the rest of its body from the cover of the undergrowth and Daindreth almost gasped.

A black, veiny mass spread out from the buck’s spine, black tendrils that had hardened into stone. As best Daindreth could tell, there was some sort of root of obsidian in the buck’s back that had spread down through the animal’s ribs, lancing its hide and growing into it like a cancer of quartz.

Daindreth’s gut clenched, and he had to fight to keep from retching at the sight. “Sweet goddess, what is that?”

Amira grimaced, her nose pinched. “The blackbriars can infect animals, too.” She nodded at the buck as it wandered across their path, moving stiffly and awkwardly.

With the obsidian veins lancing its flesh, it must be in immense pain.

“That was probably a wound,” Amira said. “A failed predator attack or a hunter’s missed arrow. Blackbriar seeds got into it and took root. Poor fellow’s got them growing in his back now.”

Daindreth watched as the buck shuffled into the trees on the other side of their trail. “He’s having trouble with his back legs.”

Amira nodded grimly. “The briars are probably in his spine.”

“Can we do anything for him?” Daindreth asked. “Poor creature’s suffered enough.”

Amira shook her head. “We don’t have a bow and we don’t have a means of chasing him down. He’d just run if we tried to get close.”

Daindreth glanced to Amira as the buck disappeared. He didn’t see any open cuts. “Can the briars be removed? If they aren’t too advanced, I mean.”

“Don’t know,” Amira admitted, nudging her mare into a walk again. “Everyone I’ve heard of cut out the seeds as soon as they noticed the infection.”

The Cursewood didn’t seem real, more like a nightmare that had been dragged into the waking world.

Unfortunately, he’d also been right when he’d said they had no other options. He kept his horse moving and kept watching the forest for any sign of attack or danger.

Amira made a hacking sound and spat, coughing.

“Amira?”

“The ka,” she grumbled, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “It’s all wrong here. All rotten.” She cleared her throat again.

Daindreth couldn’t sense ka¸ but this whole place was rotten. He didn’t need to be a sorcerer to know that.

They continued on, riding into the tangle of the forest. Daindreth found himself avoiding the blackbriars whenever possible and tensing up every time he noticed Amira’s horse going near them.

They passed a hot spring that bubbled and popped dark green sludge. The ferns around it were withered and black as if burned. A bubble popped and splashed the trunk of a nearby tree. The tree’s bark withered and burned black, leaving a dark ring where the sludge had hit.

Chapter Nineteen

Thadred

Thadred found himself in the middle of a clearing tied back-to-back with the woman he hated second most in the world. Only Vesha could claim to be more hated and at this moment, only by a narrow margin.

Sair cursed and snarled behind her gag. Nothing came out coherent, but Thadred had been cursed by enough women to guess at what she was saying.

“I can’t stand you either,” Thadred quipped. “To be fair, we wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t abducted me.”

Sair slammed her head backwards, knocking into his. Her blow struck hard enough to make him see stars, but then Sair whimpered, her bodyweight shifting as she lowered her head.

“Serves you right,” he said past watering eyes. People always forgot that bashing someone else with their head hurt them, too. It was something he’d learned the hard way. Even in full plate armor, he had nearly managed to knock himself out at the time.

“Fine fix you’ve gotten us into, sorceress,” Thadred grumbled. “Tied in the middle of the forest like a couple of goats left out for a brown bear.”

They were alone in the clearing by all appearances, but appearances meant nothing when it came to Kadra’han. The three men were no doubt lying in wait in the trees.

Thadred took a deep breath, shifting in an effort to better accommodate his aching limbs, then grunting when that only made his nerves pinch worse. “Damn it,” he muttered.

Sair made a low sound and Thadred interpreted that as another curse.

The knight cocked his head. A low rhythm thumped from somewhere in the trees. “Sair, quiet.”

Sair made a sputtering sound clearly not appreciating his demand.

“I mean it. Can you hear that?”

Sair paused her struggling for just a moment, long enough for Thadred to confirm.

“Someone on a horse is coming.” He frowned and his chest loosened a little. “Only one.”

Amira and Daindreth wouldn’t separate, would they? Then again, they might if they thought—

“It’s a trap!” Thadred shouted. “There’s four of them!”

Panic rose in his chest as the horse kept coming. Then a Kadra’han on horseback burst into their clearing, a strung bow over his shoulder. His hood was thrown back and his horse glistened with sweat.

Thadred noticed his quiver of arrows was missing several.

On cue, the other three warriors slid from the forest around them. Iasu dropped from a tree, sauntering to stand beside the bound captives.

One trotted into the woods, jogging in the direction the rider had come from, probably to check for a pursuit as was standard practice. The other swaggered to meet the rider.

“Report,” said the older Kadra’han, the one who had grabbed Thadred’s mule earlier.

“I found them,” the rider panted. “I pursued them into a gorge, but they took up a defensive position.” He nodded to the bound sorceress and Thadred. “I delivered our ransom demand and they followed me for a mile or so, then turned back.”

The older Kadra’han didn’t look surprised. None of them did, actually.

“Turned back for the city?” the older Kadra’han asked.

“No, commander. The Cursewood.”

“They headed north? Are they circling back?”

“No, sir, they entered the Cursewood. I followed as far as I could, but they soon disappeared. I returned before I couldn’t.”

Silence descended on the clearing. Even Sair went still.

Thadred had heard stories about the Cursewood even before Amira had mentioned it. Tales told of the blight that the sorceresses had unleashed on the northern forests after their infamous defeat at the tower. The primary embodiment of the curse was the blackbriars—thorny vines of obsidian that overtook and overwhelmed the forest bit by bit, consuming and choking it.

There were stories of ghosts, kelpies, bugbears, poison fumes, trolls, and a dozen other things that could kill, maim, enslave, and otherwise do bad to unwary travelers. Thadred had believed little of it, but looking at the faces around him...

Kadra’han—full-fledged Kadra’han—were master spies and assassins. Reading them for the most part was like reading granite slabs and yet they were quiet now, their faces tight. One of them, who appeared to be the youngest, looked quickly to Iasu who only shook his head.

The eldest of the Kadra’han marched straight to Sair and yanked her gag off. “Does the princess know the forest?” he demanded.

Sair spat and earned a fist across her face for that.

“Hey!” Thadred twisted around. “That was uncalled for.”

The Kadra’han ignored him, remaining focused on Sair. “Do you have children, sorceress?” The Kaadra’han grabbed something at her throat and pulled a narrow strip of leather around her neck. Thadred hadn’t noticed it before. At the end of the leather strap was a wooden medallion carved into the shape of a circle with spiked shapes Thadred took to be stars lining its edges.

The Kadra’han held it in front of Sair, raising his brows. “A son, from the look of this.”

Thadred couldn’t see Sair’s face, but her continued silence was confirmation that the Kadra’han was right.

Sair was a mother. That surprised Thadred, though he supposed she was old enough. Guilt plucked at him—he hadn’t known.

The boy was probably safe. With friends or perhaps Sair’s family. But safe or not, and no matter what Thadred might have against Sair, her child didn’t deserve to lose her. Boys needed their mothers.

“You need to understand something,” the Kadra’han said, his voice low and threatening. “Our empress was content to let you and your mothers and sisters and daughters live out your lives like animals in the wilds.” He grabbed the leather thong and used it to yank Sair toward him. “That was before you meddled and sent an assassin after her son.”

Thadred frowned at that. He’d thought King Hyle had been the one to send Amira after Daindreth. Her oath had been bound to the king, not the sorceresses.

Sair still didn’t speak.

“Now the empress has had a few months to rethink her generosity, she’s decided that she’ll be demolishing your forests and routing out this infestation. She’ll have the power to do it soon,” the Kadra’han said. “You know she will.”

Vesha had struck a deal with demons, Thadred knew that much. That must mean her power would soon be increasing, though Thadred wasn’t sure how or by how much. He committed the other man’s words to memory, hoping that Amira and Dain could make more sense of it than he did.

“You cannot control him,” Sair said, her voice shaking. “Caa Iss. He will consume the world.”

The senior Kadra’han was unimpressed. “You will answer my questions,” he said. “Does the princess know the way to the Haven?”

Sair didn’t speak.

Thadred thought back to what Amira had said, though he hadn’t paid much attention. Sorcery and cythraul weren’t his strong suits, fighting was.

But from what Amira had said—about them needing a guide—he guessed that she had no idea where she was going or what she was doing in that forest. His stomach knotted at the thought of them lost and blundering through a cursed woodland.

As much as he had been dreading Amira and Dain’s rescue attempt, he couldn’t deny frustration when he realized they had left him behind. They would come for him, he had been sure of that. Dain wouldn’t abandon him, and Amira had proven she could break a man out of the most secure palace in the known world if it came to that.

Dain and Amira had to have a plan and the Cursewood had to be a part of that plan somehow. It still rankled him that he was stuck waiting.

“This medallion doesn’t look that old,” the Kadra’han was still speaking to Sair. “Your son can’t be more than ten.” He brushed a finger along her chin and Sair whipped her head away. “You know, we’ve had trouble replenishing our ranks. Most the other sorcerous bloodlines were dealt with, which makes your kind a high commodity.”

Thadred bristled. He didn’t like what this conversation implied. It made something aggressive and protective rise up in his chest.

Sair looked determinedly away.

“We’ve had trouble finding boys with the right lineage,” he said. “As you can see, we’ve even settled for cripples.”

Thadred’s face flushed and he wasn’t sure if it was more humiliation or anger. His fists clenched in their bonds, anger winning out.

How he’d like to get that bastard alone and—

“You should kill me now,” Sair said flatly. “It will save time.” She leaned closer to the Kadra’han.

Thadred had to respect her for it.

“You can threaten me. Torture me. Do what you want to me. But there is nothing you can do that will make me betray my son.” She addressed the Kadra’han with a steadiness Thadred couldn’t have managed himself. “We give our lives for our children, not the other way around. That’s something your empress has yet to learn.”

“You’re brave,” the Kadra’han said. “Some might admire that. I find it annoying.” He gestured to one of the other Kadra’han, not Iasu.

The other Kadra’han took a step toward them.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” Thadred growled.

Sair and the Kadra’han joined in giving him an incredulous look.

“She was your captor,” the senior Kadra’han clipped. “A sorceress. She tried to hunt your master, the archduke. Yet you defend her?”

Thadred realized the ridiculousness of his own words a moment later. Still, he didn’t back down. “It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t go hurting women. It’s...it’s not right.”

The senior Kadra’han rolled his eyes. “Undall, unbind her hands.”

Thadred tensed as Sair did. What could they do? They were at the mercy of these Kadra’han and were all but helpless, but at the same time, Thadred kept thinking he should do something.

He twisted the ropes around his wrists, sawing them back and forth, but he couldn’t reach the knots. He tried to turn around, but his bad leg was locked up with stiff muscles. Even just shifting his weight was painful enough to make his eyes water.

Undall, the other Kadra’han who had stayed behind with Iasu and the commander, reached for Sair.

She struggled and something snapped in the air, her attempts at a spell, Thadred guessed. Undall drove a fist into her gut for that.

Something cracked and she doubled over, wheezing and groaning. It was a strike with a fist, meant to take down a man twice her size. Sair hunched over, whimpering.

“Stop!” Thadred cried. His chest wrenched and he hated Undall, hated the Kadra’han, and hated his own inability to stop them.

Undall unbound Sair’s hands and the senior Kadra’han gestured to a stump a few steps away. Undall forced Sair down in front of it and a sick feeling welled in Thadred’s gut.

“Spread her hands over it,” the Kadra’han ordered.

Sair was still wheezing from his punch and barely offered any resistance as Undall grabbed her wrists and forced her palms flat onto the stump.

Not wasting a moment, the older Kadra’han whipped out two narrow throwing knives. He drove them down into Sair’s hands and the blades plunked into wood on the other side.

Thadred looked away as Sair let off a cry.

She whimpered and gasped, her plaintive cries making Thadred’s insides coil, snap, and retch. He was caught between anger and horror.

He’d trained for war his whole life. He’d killed men in skirmishes with revolting kingdoms when he was younger, before his accident, but this was different. On a battlefield, it was chaos and madness and the men he butchered were just as set on butchering him right back.

When they had caught Amira, she was an assassin who had tried to kill Dain. But even then, Thadred hadn’t wanted to mutilate her.

This cold, calculated torture was something else. Something less than human.

“Now.” The older Kadra’han leaned over Sair. “You will tell me how to follow them into the Cursewood.”

Sair shook her head, but less resolutely this time, bowing between her arms.

The Kadra’han reached out and snapped back her left thumb. It made a popping, cracking sound that split the air right before Sair’s next scream.

She cowered and whimpered, unable to move without yanking against the knives in her hands.

“Stop!” Thadred shouted.

They ignored him.

“How do we track someone in the Cursewood?” the Kadra’han demanded. “Only sorceresses have been able to pass through unscathed. How?”

Sair stayed bowed on the ground, her breath coming in heaves.

The Kadra’han snapped back another finger, Thadred couldn’t see which one.

Sair screamed again, and Thadred twisted against the ropes on his wrists.

It made no sense. She was a sorceress who had taken him prisoner. She’d ambushed him and used him to set a trap for Dain and Amira, not to mention she’d dragged him through gods knew how many miles of rainy, wet, and cold forest. And she also wanted to kill Dain.

Despite all that, Thadred found he didn’t hate her as much as he had thought he did. Or if he did hate her, it still wasn’t enough for him to enjoy her pain.

“You...” Sair panted, her hair worked free of her braid and fell around her face in stray wisps. “You can’t find your way through.”

“I know,” the Kadra’han said. “Hence my questions. How do we track someone in the Cursewood?”

Sair shook her head.

The Kadra’han snapped another of her fingers in response.

Sair screamed again, but her scream sounded more ragged this time, more broken. Sobs of pain shook her shoulders.

Thadred hadn’t seen anything this awful since Amira had thrown herself into her own curse.

The Kadra’han snapped a fourth finger and Sair jerked back on impulse. There came a wet ripping sound and another scream and Thadred realized she’d torn the tendons in her hands.

“Sair!” Thadred’s voice came out choked and desperate, at least to him. “Just tell them!”

Thadred was certain that Amira and Dain had a plan to deal with the imperial Kadra’han. If he knew them at all, he didn’t doubt it. He strongly suspected that plan involved having the imperials chase them into the Cursewood. Sair could tell these men whatever she wanted—Dain and Amira were no doubt expecting them. But Thadred couldn’t tell Sair that part with the Kadra’han listening.

To Thadred’s relief, she started speaking.

“The Cursewood is alive,” Sair sputtered, her voice cracked and hoarse. “You can no more map it than you can map the waves.”

“Speak plainly.” The Kadra’han crouched in front of her. “What do you mean you can’t map it?”

“It changes,” Sair said, her whole body shuddering. “It moves.”

“Yes. So how do you and your sisters find your way through?”

“You can’t search the Cursewood,” Sair said, her voice rising to a shrill pitch. “It turns and twists on itself. Within its boundaries, you can only find somewhere you have already been.”

“If we can find places we know, why not people?”

Sair panted, not speaking.

“Well, they’ll be looking for the Haven, won’t they?” the older Kadra’han purred. “The princess has been there. That’s probably where they’re headed. Somewhere you can take us,” the Kadra’han added.

Sair shook her head violently. “The princess has never been to the Haven. She—”

Another finger snapped.

“She was talking!” Thadred shouted. “You didn’t have to do that!”

The Kadra’han kept his back to Thadred, chuckling as he knelt before Sair. “You’ve charmed that one quite well. You Istovari women have a knack for ensnaring Erymayan nobles.”

Thadred twisted against his ropes, jaw locked tight.

“I won’t take you to my home,” Sair said, her voice ragged. “Do what you want to me, but I won’t show you the way.”

“Fain,” Iasu said to the senior Kadra’han. That must be his name. The smaller man stepped up before the commander could snap another of Sair’s fingers.

Thadred had lost count of how many fingers Fain had broken. How many did the sorceress even have left?

Fain whipped on Iasu. “Zhan.” It sounded like a challenge as he spoke the other man’s last name. It sounded like it had more meaning than Thadred was catching on.

Iasu was the shorter of the two by a full head, but he met the larger, higher ranking man’s eyes without flinching. He was uncannily confident, almost to the point of arrogance—like a cat facing down mastiffs.

“Perhaps we don’t need her cooperation to find the Haven,” he suggested.

“Meaning?”

“I’ve studied the mechanics of these spells the sorceresses favor,” Iasu said. “They’re spells of marking, not intent.”

Sair kept her head bowed.

None of those words meant anything to Thadred, but the other Kadra’han seemed curious.

“Marking?”

“They recognize familiar souls,” Iasu expounded.

“I know what a marking spell is,” Fain said tightly.

The smaller man shrugged. “It is possible we might be able to find the archduke no matter where he is. So long as the right person is looking.” He glanced to Thadred at that last sentence. “It depends on who we put in the lead.”

Fain turned to the Kadra’han behind Sair, the one who had held her hands down for Fain to stab. “Kill her,” he ordered.

“We could still have use for her,” Iasu said shortly, words rushing out as the other Kadra’han drew a large knife from his belt. “If we do need to reach the Haven after all, she will be best suited to the task. A spell of marking is...complicated.”

Sair’s head snapped up at that. It was slight motion, but it was enough that even Thadred saw she was genuinely afraid.

Some primal, deep-seated fear in Thadred’s chest warned him to flee, told him that this was wrong, that the Cursewood was the last place they should be.

It made no difference. He was helpless as they dragged him aboard his mule again and slung Sair up on one beside him. They tied her to the saddle and her wounded hands dripped blood on the mule’s neck and shoulders, leaving a sticky red film. Her mule was led by the third Kadra’han who the others called Venner.

She wept quietly, head down.

“We’ll be fine,” Thadred said awkwardly as his own hands were lashed to the pommel of his saddle.

Iasu rolled his eyes at those words and the other Kadra’han, the one who had held Sair down, laughed.

Thadred decided then that he was going to kill them all, he just didn’t know how. “It’s alright, Sair,” he promised softly.

She took an extra moment to respond and Thadred realized that was the first time he’d used her shortened name out loud. “How can you say that?” Sair whimpered. She lifted her tear-streaked face to his. “They’ll kill me if I’m lucky.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Thadred snapped, thinking of Dain’s suicide attempt. “There’s always hope. So long as you’re alive, there’s hope.”

Sair didn’t respond, but her hollow, embittered stare told him enough.

As a young boy, Thadred had been sent to deal with insurrections within the empire. They were quick, usually lasting only as long as it took to mount a few heads on pikes and torch a village.

Once, they’d found a rebel instigator, or at least, a man accused of being one. They’d drawn him in the town square, pulled him apart between four mules until his pelvis shattered and his legs ripped off. His screams had echoed in Thadred’s dreams for months.

When they returned to the castle of the local baron with the news that the revolt was quelled, Thadred had done his part as a squire. He’d helped care for the horses and the armor. He’d scrubbed tabards and rolled chainmail in sand to get the blood out.

That night, the local baron had been grateful that order was restored to his fief and had provided all the men with beer, wine, ale, and prostitutes as reward for a good day’s work.

Thadred had gotten good and truly drunk for the first time in his life. He didn’t remember much of that night now. It was hazy and distant, like a fever dream.

After, he listened to the other soldiers laugh about how the revolt leader had screamed as he’d died. Thadred had laughed with them until a prostitute had taken him under one of the wagons, he wasn’t sure why. Had he asked her? Had someone else paid her?

Thadred recalled only a single image, but he remembered it with vivid clarity—her on top of him with light from the torches outlining her naked shoulders, dark hair falling around her face and tears streaming down her cheeks. Even years later, he couldn’t forget that image.

“You’re just a boy,” she’d said, and the tears had come faster. “Just a boy.”

Sometimes, he still saw her and heard her, and he hated it. More than a decade and dozens of women later, but he couldn’t forget his first one or that she’d cried through their whole coupling.

Sair reminded him of that woman. She was a world away and at least a decade younger, but something reminded him of that prostitute. Something in the way she looked at him half with pity and half with accusation.

The Kadra’han saddled up, gathering their own horses. The archer took the lead, trotting his animal ahead a few paces.

The leader, Fain, led Thadred’s mule with Venner riding beside him. Iasu brought up the rear.

“How far is the border of the Cursewood?” Fain asked the archer.

“About three miles, sir,” the archer answered. It was as close to a title as Thadred had heard any of them use. Though they operated with military precision and there seemed to be some sort of rank, there was a kind of informality to their interaction that struck him as...off.

They rode toward the forest and the feeling of dread increased. Thadred couldn’t tell if the sensation was coming from inside or if it was pressing down from the outside.

The minutes ticked by and Thadred noticed a silence descend. An odd emptiness.

“The birds have stopped singing,” he muttered. He usually took that as a sign a storm was coming, but there were no hints beyond the grey curtain overhead.

Sair shifted on her mule. Her bleeding hands had given her dress a bloody apron, soaking the front of her skirt and dribbling down to stain the saddle, too. It was a reminder that she still had the worst of this situation.

The cuff the Kadra’han had placed on her wrist lay stark against her pale skin. Thadred’s ring had been coated in a thin layer of gold, but this was a dull grey-black. Tenebrous steel was primarily iron and silver, and the outside of the cuff had eroded somewhat.

It looked like a garish mockery of a bracelet, like a cursed form of a woman’s jewelry.

Thadred didn’t notice the changes to their surroundings at first. He just looked up at one point and realized that the trees were darker, the air a bit thicker. He squirmed in his saddle, trying to shift the pressure off his hip.

He tried to remember that Sair had abducted him and threatened to kill Dain and hurt Amira, but that did nothing to lessen his guilt at her pain or her silent tears. She thought she was doing the right thing. And she had a child, for gods’ sakes.

“What’s your son’s name?” Thadred asked quietly. He was fairly sure that the Kadra’han could overhear, but they already knew she had a kid. What harm was there in it?

Thadred didn’t think she’d answer for a long moment, but then she did, in a tight, strained voice.

“Rhisiart. After his father.”

Thadred nodded. “It’s a nice name.”

He wanted to ask where her son’s father was. Was the man somewhere safe and doing nothing while his presumable wife was at the mercy of Kadra’han? It made Thadred angry to consider the possibility. Perhaps Sair had been abandoned the way Thadred’s mother had been. Thadred found himself getting even angrier at this stranger—either way, the man had left her—but reminded himself he had greater concerns at the moment.

Sair was quiet for a long time, suffering in silence. “If they take us to the Haven, they’ll kill the mothers,” she said. “I can’t let them.”

Thadred didn’t particularly care for the Istovari sorceresses, just from what he had seen. These were the same women who had cursed Dain and tried to kill Amira and were apparently still trying to do both. He didn’t have much sympathy.

“We’ll just have to see what happens, won’t we?” He smiled, though she didn’t look up to see it. “Who knows? From what I’ve heard, the Cursewood might kill us all before we get to them.”

Fain twisted in his saddle, shooting them both a warning glance.

Thadred grinned back. While he didn’t particularly want to die, if it meant taking that man with him, he might consider it breaking it even.

The other Kadra’han glared a warning and turned back to the front. Thadred kept right on grinning until a wall of nausea and a sickening sense of wrongness slammed into him like a noxious cloud.

All around them, the trees became darker, more twisted. Black vines of obsidian wreathed them in a prison of thorns. The silence around them seemed to thicken and congeal, almost becoming a heavy, tangible weight.

Thadred didn’t need anyone to tell him.

They had entered the Cursewood.

“Move, Myrani,” Fain ordered. He untied his lead rope from Thadred’s mule and then untied Thadred’s hands from the saddle, but left Thadred’s hands tied together. “Take the lead.”

“What direction?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just move.”

“I haven’t been to the Haven, you know.”

Fain lashed the end of his reins at Thadred’s mule.

Grumbling, Thadred took the lead. If that was how it was going to be, that was how it was going to be.

Thadred’s mule shuffled to the front. “I’m bait now?”

Fain lashed the back of his mule again, making the animal take a jolting leap forward that jarred Thadred’s hip.

Cursing, he steered his mule between two trees and nudged it onward. “Bastards,” he muttered. “Whoresons.”

If Fain overheard Thadred’s curses, he didn’t seem to care. The knight kept on, moving his mule at a steady pace.

“Just where do you think I’ll lead you?”

“Keep talking and I’ll whip you instead of your mule,” Fain threatened.

Thadred didn’t want to test him so fell silent.

They plodded on into the forest. The Kadra’han didn’t speak. Sair remained quiet aboard her mule.

Several times, Thadred checked over his shoulder to be sure she was still alive. She slumped over the front of her mule’s neck, her hands held protectively against her stomach.

Thadred wracked his brain. What do I do now?

Even if he and Sair were able to run, they wouldn’t get far. This forest pressed around them in a tangle of overgrown plants, a spiral of blackbriars and thorns of obsidian. It was like a living net.

Onward they rode as the day wore on. At least, he thought it wore on. Time seemed to have lost meaning and the eternally overcast sky gave little hint as to where the sun was.

Could one even see the sun from within this forest? Thadred doubted it. Sunlight was cleansing, purifying. He couldn’t imagine that something like that would be allowed to touch the sprawling infection that was the Cursewood.

The Kadra’han urged him on, not letting him stop. They didn’t seem to care which way he turned so long as he led. Thadred had his mule meander through the trees and across a brook that bubbled with water dark as ink. Frogs scurried out of their path, most of them with deformed, stunted extra limbs dangling off their sides and backs. He caught sight of one with a second, shriveled head and looked away cringing.

Something cracked and squelched under his mule’s hooves, and he looked down to realize his mule was walking on frogs, hundreds of them along the bank of the stream. He shuddered as small bones crunched. Didn’t the things know to move out of the way?

He urged his mule on faster, but still heard the crunching of frog bodies beneath the hooves of the other horses.

“Dear gods,” he muttered, fighting the urge to vomit.

“It’s just frogs,” Fain clipped. “Keep moving.”

Thadred glared straight ahead, thinking it might be unwise to glare directly at Fain. The man wasn’t human. At least, whatever parts of him had been human had been whittled away long ago.

They passed out of the frog patch and Thadred kept pressing his mule along a narrow tract between the oak trees. At least, he thought they were oak trees. It was hard to tell for certain with the blackbriars wrapped around them in a stranglehold.

This whole place was a claustrophobic nightmare of tight spaces, low branches, and obsidian blackbriars in every direction. Some of the smaller blackbriar vines squished under the mule’s hooves, others cracked. The larger ones clacked against the mule’s hooves and the animal slipped on them.

They were solid stone.

“It’s unnatural,” Thadred muttered to himself yet again. Everything about this place was off.

Thadred kept his mule moving. The animal’s ears twitched though there were no flies or any other insects that Thadred could see. They rode on in their column single file, Thadred still at the head.

“Fain.” It was Iasu’s voice that broke more than an hour of silence.

Thadred looked back at the same time Fain did to see the smaller Kadra’han pointing to the base of the trees.

“Horses,” Iasu said. “Fresh.”

Thadred didn’t see what Iasu was pointing to, but the older Kadra’han nodded.

“Within the past few hours,” Fain said. “We must be close.” He looked back to Thadred. “Keep leading the way.”

Thadred hesitated for an instant. Something was wrong. He couldn’t quite put it to words, but something was terribly and deeply wrong.

He stole a glance to Sair. The sorceress was pale, her hair stuck to her in lose strands. She had a haggard, defeated set to her face and she gave him a slight shake of her head as their eyes made contact.

What did that mean? What did any of this mean?

He didn’t know and he had the feeling he was being led into a trap. Or perhaps help to set one.

But at the moment, he had no other choices. Thadred kicked his mule onward and began silently praying to every god and spirit he knew.

Thadred moved his mule as slowly as he possibly could without catching the attention of Fain. Sometimes, Fain noticed and whipped his mule from behind to drive the animal.

Soon, the mule learned and wouldn’t allow Fain’s horse within an arm’s length.

What were they doing? Did this have something to do with magic? Iasu had implied there were ways to use Thadred to find Amira and Dain, but how? Did they expect him to just stumble upon the couple?

From the corner of his eye, he caught movement. For just an instant, he could have sworn he saw a horse or the flash of one from within the trees.

He looked away and didn’t dare mention it. He could only hope that Dain and Amira were the ones trailing them.

Thadred tried to take the Kadra’han in circles, just to see if they would stop him, but he never spotted a part of the forest he recognized. No matter how much he tried to circle, the forest kept changing and reshaping around them.

“What is this place?” he muttered to himself. It was entropy and madness, a swirling vortex of insanity.

Again, he thought he glimpsed a horse out of the corner of his eye. That was the third time in less than an hour. He turned his head straight in front of him and fought not to give anything away.

Up ahead, a line of thick blackbriars rimmed either side of a narrow tract that was probably a stream during the wetter months.

It was tight and would force them to ride single file. Taking a deep breath, Thadred led their small group down the tract. He was a little surprised when the Kadra’han didn’t stop him.

He continued, heart pounding in his chest. “Come on,” he whispered to himself.

The Kadra’han were single file, spread out. It wouldn’t get any better than this.

“Fain,” Iasu said in a warning tone.

Thadred’s heart rate spiked. Were they on to him?

“I see them,” Fain retorted. “Lars, be ready with your bow.”

Thadred bit his lip. They had been spotted. “Stay back!” he shouted to the trees, not caring if he took an arrow to the back for it. “They have an archer!”

“You think a warning will stop them from coming for you?” Fain sneered. Unfortunately, he was right. “It worked,” Fain chuckled. “The magic worked.”

Thadred glanced at the older Kadra’han over his shoulder, then back to the forest. “Stay back!” he repeated, not even sure if Amira and Dain were there.

“You can’t manipulate the magic of this place.” Sair’s voice was dour, heavy, bearing the warning of doom.

“We just did,” shot back Venner, the Kadra’han leading her mule.

“No,” she said softly. “You didn’t.”

Fain turned in his saddle. He pointed to Iasu and the archer and made several waving motions with his hands.

Thadred caught movement from the trees. He looked up and froze. Thadred’s gasp of horror caught in his throat. Half of him wanted to shout to the others and half of him didn’t believe what he was seeing.

A horse’s head poked out from around a thick copse of brambles. The horse was on the small side, perhaps no taller than Thadred’s shoulder. Its coat was of the darkest black, so dark that Thadred mistook it for part of the blackbriar brambles at first glance. The horse shifted, revealing a mane tangled with thorns and vines, dripping with dirty water. Eyes as large and white as eggs blinked at him with elliptical slits.

His mule spotted it an instant later. The animal’s whole body went stiff and it jolted sideways.

The black charged straight for Thadred’s mule. It tore out of the brambles and slammed into the mule’s shoulder.

Next thing Thadred knew, he was thrown from the saddle. His whole world jarred from the impact and a rock crushed into his lower back.

Without thinking, he rolled to escape the torrent of stomping hooves overhead.

The mule screamed and Thadred stared in disbelief as the black stallion chomped down on the back of the mule’s neck. Elongated fangs like those of a wolf clamped near the base of the mule’s skull and snapped.

Flesh tore and blood sprayed, and the mule’s legs buckled. The stallion kept tearing at the other animal, snorting and squealing and stomping his rage.

It all happened in barely the blink of an eye. The Kadra’han were shouting, but the archer was at the back of their column and there wasn’t enough room for him to loose his arrows without the risk of hitting his brethren.

The stallion tore at the neck of the mule until all that was left was a strip of flesh holding the animal’s head on. Finally, the stallion seemed satisfied that the mule was dead.

“Kelpie!” Sair screamed.

Fain was shouting, but his words were drowned out by the screaming of the horses and Sair’s mule.

Thadred crawled away, wiggling under a large blackbriar vine with thorns that jutted out like knives.

The stallion—the kelpie—spun on Thadred and kicked at the blackbriar thorns, squealing in frustration as the knight scrambled out of reach.

Several of the obsidian thorns snapped off and the stallion lunged, trying to reach between them to grab Thadred’s ankle. Teeth snapped at him and Thadred kicked at it with his good leg best he could, but the creature was faster.

Teeth clamped around his boot, locking around the leather so hard that for one instant, he was sure the creature’s jaws would shatter his entire ankle.

Then the kelpie let go and whirled around.

Fain had drawn the sword at his hip and charged the animal, but the kelpie was unimpressed. The stocky black aberration charged right back.

Fain’s horse, as well-trained as it might have been, panicked. The animal reared back, dumping Fain to the ground just as the kelpie smashed into Fain’s horse.

Something snapped with a wet crack that make the air jolt. A horse screamed and Fain bellowed. The other Kadra’han shouted.

Sair let off a cry.

Thadred scrambled back farther into the thicket, wincing as thorns pricked his face, neck, arms, and hands.

He clawed his way through as fast as he dared while the screams behind him grew louder. He stopped only long enough to wrench the ropes off his wrists.

Thadred cursed, coming out the other side of the thicket. He crawled to his feet, limping as fast as he could. Adrenaline spiked through his veins, numbing him to the scratches and bruises from his fall and the usual pain in his hip.

He doubled back, pacing the line of thickets.

“Stupid,” he muttered to himself. “Stupid.” He’d thought that Dain and Amira were the only ones with horses in this Cursewood. Clearly, he had been wrong.

Staggering, he forced his way through the brambles toward the loudest screaming. Blood poured down his face along with sweat, stinging his eyes and rendering him half blind.

He burst back onto the narrow path to find Fain on the ground as his horse squealed and the archer held an arrow nocked in his bow, straining for a shot. The black stallion still tore at the neck and shoulder of Fain’s horse, spewing blood in every direction.

This horse was putting up more of a fight, rearing back, pawing, and kicking at the kelpie, but that only meant more blood, more flying hooves, and less chance for the archer to get a clear shot.

“Sair!” Thadred risked shouting her name. “Sairydwen!”

He stumbled back through the brambles and found her on the ground with her hands still tied.

She crawled to her feet, her dress hiked around her thighs as she struggled to stand. “Thadred?”

The Kadra’han archer made eye contact with them for just a moment. The archer nocked an arrow and his whole body shifted in their direction.

Thadred had one stunning moment of clarity as he realized he was about to die.

Then Fain’s horse slammed back into Venner’s horse, making the archer’s horse jerk back to avoid being struck.

The archer’s shot went wide, darting away into the thicket.

Thadred grabbed Sair and hauled her backwards. She tumbled into him without question and the two of them staggered into the brambles. The screaming and shouting and the squeals of dying horses chased them as they fled.

Sair stumbled along beside him, keeping pace, though that wasn’t too impressive. He was a crippled man, after all.

They ran through the poisonous forest, stumbling and staggering as fast as they could while the Kadra’han and their horses screamed at their backs.

“The river,” Sair gasped, skidding to a stop. “We need to get to the river.”

Her hands were still bound in front of her, but she gestured wildly.

“Where is it?” Thadred demanded, his breath coming in heaves. He spun to face her, flinging his arms wide. “Directions, woman.”

“If there’s a kelpie, there must be a river close by.”

“That’s not helpful!” Thadred snapped.

“I don’t—”

Thadred grabbed her arm and hauled her in the direction that the ground seemed to slope downhill. Water ran downhill, so it followed the riverbed would be that way.

They ran onward as fast as their three good legs could carry them. Behind them, the screams and shouts of the Kadra’han continued. Thadred kept moving, just moving.

They might not be headed in the right direction. In this Cursewood, no one could find anything that they didn’t already know. The two of them might—

The trees stopped and the ground gave way beneath them.

“Shit!” Thadred scrambled to a stop as his feet skidded on gravel. Pebbles rained over the edge of the gorge, not even visible by the time they splashed into the water below. He grabbed a sapling for balance and it gave way. The small tree jerked loose and careened toward the river, taking Thadred with it.

Sair reached for him, and he caught her forearm. She tried to pull him back, but he was too heavy, and they landed in a heap at the edge of the gorge. A few more inches and they both would have been plummeting to an early death.

Panting, Thadred looked down. He could just make out the rushing current of a river. The water was a brackish grey.

“Why didn’t I hear it?” Thadred panted, glancing in all directions. The gorge ran as far as he could see in both directions, disappearing into the tangle of the blackbriars.

“This is the Cursewood,” Sair said, panting. “Distance means nothing.”

The wounds on her hands had ripped open again. Blood dripped on to her dress.

Behind them, the screams of the Kadra’han and the horses had faded. Thadred didn’t understand if that meant their captors were all dead or if the Cursewood had shifted, leaving them miles apart.

“Can that horse chase us?” he panted, feet still dangling off the edge. “It will get lost in the woods, right?”

He felt Sair shake her head near his ear. “The kelpie is king of the Cursewood. He can traverse these forests better than anyone.”

Thadred let loose a string of words he hadn’t used in front of women before. Leaning on a more solid sapling for support, he stood. “We need to move then.” Looking back, he realized that Sair’s hands were still tied. “Here.” He reached for her wrists.

Sair looked away as he fought with the knots. With her hands still wounded, they hadn’t been concerned with her untying them herself. Thadred worked the knots loose easily enough. He almost tossed the rope away, but it was their only tool in this wilderness—five feet of sturdy twine. It was better than nothing, but not by much. Thadred coiled the rope and stuffed it into his belt.

“Let’s move,” he said. Pointing, he nudged Sair onward. “See that ledge along the river there? It’s not much, but it will be too narrow for that horse.”

“He can swim,” Sair said.

Thadred thought back to the pond plants that had been tangled in the animal’s mane and grimaced. “Alright, then. But we should at least be able to take shelter there for a bit.”

He headed off toward the narrow ledge, limping again.

As the initial spike of adrenaline wore off, aches and pains rattled through Thadred’s body. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be old—never able to bend a joint or flex a muscle without some part of you aching in protest. He was too young to feel this old.

Sair stayed close behind him as he limped along the edge of the river. “Why did you do it?” she asked, voice down.

Thadred glanced back. “Do what?”

Sair jerked her chin in the direction they had come from. “Why did you go back for me?”

Thadred shrugged and a cut on his shoulder stung at that. When had he cut his shoulder? “It seemed like the thing to do at the time.” He used another tree for balance as he limped on. “Besides, you’re the only one who can get us to the Haven. Which seems to be our only hope at this point.”

“That was wise of you,” Sair replied in a neutral tone.

Thadred laughed at that, it wasn’t something he got called very often. Thadred reached the cusp of the narrow ledge and braced both hands on the solid ground before carefully sliding one foot down. He tested the stones for a moment, then motioned for Sair to follow. “This way. Come on.”

Chapter Twenty

Daindreth

Daindreth couldn’t have said what it was, but something was wrong, and it was more than just the inherent wrongness of this place. Amira seemed to sense it, too, shifting and glancing around more than usual.

The horses flicked their ears and wrung their tails. Amira’s little bay mare flared her nostrils and rolled her eyes in every direction as if searching the trees.

The archduke had traveled into forests before, sometimes for days on end as the court had hunted boar or elk. They’d slept on the ground without fires and eaten hard rations so as not to frighten off their prey, but that was nothing compared to this.

Daindreth’s clothes had taken on a perpetual dampness and his muscles and joints ached with the cold. He’d always considered himself fairly fit before, but he was reconsidering. He was sore as an old hound dog and aching like a rheumatic sailor. Was that part of the effect of the Cursewood?

If they were attacked, Daindreth wasn’t sure how well he would be able to fight, even without the handicap of the tight spaces made by the tangled briars. Yet another way they were vulnerable.

Amira reined in her mare, easing the animal to a stop. “Do you hear that?”

Daindreth cocked his head, listening. “I...” As the horses went still, he caught it. “Screaming.”

Amira nodded, her eyes wide. “That sounds like a horse.”

Daindreth’s heart beat a little faster. “Thad?”

Amira shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

She raised a finger. “He was taken by a sorceress. Those are men’s voices.”

It was faint, just shouts on the breeze, but he caught it, too.

“Thad.” Daindreth kicked his mare forward, but Amira caught his horse’s reins as he tried to shove past.

“More than one. The Kadra’han.” She was quiet for another moment. Before he could demand what she was waiting for, she spurred her mare into the trees.

Amira swerved her horse around a fallen tree and Daindreth’s horse leapt after her. Their hooves clattered over hardened obsidian at times and squelched in mud other times.

Overhead, the sun was going down. Or the sky was darkening, whatever that meant.

Daindreth kept close behind Amira.

They reined in their horses after a few paces and listened again. The shouts continued, this time from their left.

They steered in that direction and spurred their horses as fast as they dared. They went on for thirty paces or so, and checked their horses again, holding their breaths as they listened.

Daindreth frowned as the voice came from their right this time. He looked to Amira, but she just shrugged and steered her horse in that direction through the trees.

Daindreth followed, thinking that he should be in front. If it was Kadra’han, they would be less likely to shoot him on sight. “Amira—”

She swerved her horse to the right again and this time Daindreth heard it, too—the screams. So close, he could have sworn they were on the other side of the thicket. Amira drew her dagger and Daindreth drew his sword, but when they burst out on the other side, nothing.

Everything was silent.

Amira reined in her horse and Daindreth pulled his mare up beside her. The two of them listened, straining to hear over the panting of their mounts.

“Where are they?” Daindreth looked from left to right. “What...?”

Amira shook her head. “We lost them.”

“What was that?” Daindreth asked, looking all around him, half expecting to see the bodies of men and horses.

“A trick of the forest,” Amira said, slamming her dagger back into its sheath.

“So there was no screaming?” Daindreth sheathed his sword, feeling like an idiot.

“There might have been,” Amira conceded. “But...distance and direction don’t work quite the same way here as they do in other places.”

Daindreth cursed under his breath. “How are we supposed to find anything?”

“We aren’t,” Amira answered with a caustic smile. “That’s the point.”

“We need to find Thad,” he insisted. “He’s in trouble.”

“Yes.” Amira turned her mare to the right and nudged it on.

“What are you doing?”

“This forest was designed to kill trespassers.”

“Yes?” Daindreth kicked his mare after her.

“So, if Thadred and the others are facing something that could make Kadra’han scream like that, I expect this forest will want us to meet it, too.”

Daindreth swallowed. “Then why did it throw us off their trail?”

“Maybe it didn’t want us to band together against whatever it was. My mothers didn’t make this place to be logical.” Amira made a dismissive gesture in the air. “There’s a reason I haven’t kept in touch. They destroyed entire valleys and swaths of farmland to create their sanctuary. Even if you ignore the human sacrifice, it’s a rather large crime.”

Daindreth hesitated. “You still think they might help me?”

“We don’t have many options, do we?” Amira kept her face turned away.

“Why do you think they will?”

Amira didn’t hesitate to answer. “Because they’re cowards.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“They’re afraid, Daindreth. More than anything, they fear extinction. A treaty with the future emperor and a guarantee of his good graces would—” She snapped her head to the left.

Both of them fell silent.

Daindreth’s scalp prickled and the hairs on his arms stood up. He hadn’t heard anything, but his entire being flooded with the sudden awareness that they were being watched.

He caught Amira’s eye and a silent understanding passed between them.

They were hemmed in on all sides by dark trees tangled with blackbriars. A shadow lurked at the edge of his vision. It stood out and he couldn’t quite say why until he realized that there were no shadows in this place. The Cursewood’s eternal pall never provided enough light.

An eye blinked at them from the shadows—large, white, and slit with a catlike iris. Then the shadow moved.

A black stallion stepped out from under the trees.

“Oh no,” Amira said softly.

The black stallion snorted and dropped his head, ears flicking.

The two mares flicked their ears nervously. Daindreth’s sorrel swished her tail and pawed at the ground once. She shifted toward the strange horse and then away.

“Shit,” Amira muttered, casting about her.

The black stallion was no taller than their mares, but built square and solid, a draft horse. Looking at him, he looked like any other unkempt plough animal, except for the sleek, inky black of his coat and the eyes—those eyes.

Why was it always the eyes that gave monsters away?

“What is it?” Daindreth asked, whispering.

“Kelpie,” Amira spat, speaking the name like an obscenity. “A waterhorse.”

Daindreth nodded silently. He didn’t need to be convinced. It didn’t look like what he expected, but what else could this creature be?

In art, kelpies were majestic steeds with flowing manes and feathered legs, not stocky and solid like the animal before them. This animal looked like a cart horse, more of a pony, really.

The kelpie snorted and whickered, more interested in the mares than their riders at the moment.

“He might be alone,” Amira whispered, reaching for her dagger. “If it’s just one—”

The kelpie whirled on Amira. Like he was noticing her for the first time, he pinned his ears and pulled back his lips. Elongated canine teeth flashed at them.

The mares shied back, nickering anxiously. Daindreth’s sorrel stomped and shifted, bumping into Amira’s bay.

Daindreth had already reached for his sword but didn’t draw it just yet. He didn’t want to make any sudden moves. “How do we kill it?” Daindreth whispered.

“We—”

The kelpie let off a scream and charged.

Daindreth and Amira didn’t even have to steer. Their mares spun and galloped into the forest without waiting.

The kelpie pursued them with his ears back. He snapped at the flank of Daindreth’s mare and his teeth clamped into her haunch.

The mare squealed and Daindreth swung his sword back, sweeping for the kelpie’s head.

The kelpie let go and shied away, ducking, but kept after them.

“Daindreth!” Amira called back, fighting to cling to her panicked mare.

“I’m fine!” Daindreth shouted.

The kelpie harried them through the undergrowth, chasing their horses at breakneck speed. Daindreth ducked low in his saddle, leaning close to his mare’s neck to keep from being smacked off by a low branch.

The kelpie galloped after them, keeping far back enough to stay out of reach of Daindreth’s sword, but close enough to harass the mares. Daindreth fought to drag his horse’s head around and make the animal face the kelpie, but his mare was having none of it. She charged as fast as she could, hot on the heels of Amira’s bay.

The assassin appeared to be fighting with her horse, too, but neither of the animals wanted anything to do with the monster at their rear. The two mares fled as fast as they could.

Ahead of them, Amira let out a cry and Daindreth saw her mare’s shoulder buckle. For one instant, he was back in that forest seeing Thadred’s horse stumble and skid down the edge of that hill. But then the mare righted herself and ploughed onward, black tail snapping as she regained speed.

The two horses careened through the forest, tearing their necks and legs on blackbriars. Blood splattered Daindreth’s face and it took him a moment to realize that his mare had cut one of her ears on a thicket.

He looked back to the kelpie, a black shape that bobbed in and out of the forest at their backs, easily keeping pace. The freakish little horse didn’t even look winded. How were they supposed to outrun him?

The assassin and her horse swerved sharply to the right and disappeared.

“Daindreth!” she shouted.

“Amira!” Daindreth lost sight of her. Panic rose in his chest. “Amira!” If they became separated in this place, he had no way of finding her again.

His mare burst through the trees and careened out the other side. Amira was just ahead, twisted around in her saddle to see him.

On her face, he saw his own mirrored fear and then relief.

The kelpie drove them out of the tangle of blackbriars and strangled trees and into the rocky tract of a riverbed, much like the one where they had lost the Kadra’han not so long ago.

“Shit,” Amira growled. “Shit!”

The kelpie drove their horses down the tract of gravel.

The mares, not wanting to tear through the forest, took the path of least resistance and galloped down the relatively open path along the riverbed.

Puddles of brackish water splashed beneath their hooves. Daindreth could swear he saw blood smearing both the animals’ legs. Their nostrils flared wide enough that he could see red with every inhale.

The kelpie would run them until they collapsed and though the horses were running out of strength, the waterhorse still kept pace.

Many horse breeders believed that greater size made for greater speed, but this small black terror was proving them all wrong.

An arrow skittered over their heads and narrowly missed the kelpie. The little horse snapped his body to the side and the arrow struck gravel.

Daindreth’s first impulse was relief, but he looked up to see a dark shape in the black armor of an imperial Kadra’han.

Amira swore.

“It chased us to them?” Daindreth shouted, angling his horse so that he was between Amira and the archer.

“Not on purpose, I’m guessing.”

The little stallion snorted and veered off.

Daindreth blinked in shock as, instead of fleeing, the kelpie tore into the forest, in the direction of the archer. Daindreth caught sight of the archer retreating, running for a nearby tree.

Then there came the sound of angry neighs and thudding hooves and the shouts of men.

“They found us,” Daindreth panted. “The Kadra’han found us.”

“No,” Amira shouted back. “The kelpie did.” Shaking her head, she added, “It’s strange. I don’t sense any other people near here. The archer must have become separated from the rest of the group.”

“Thad?”

Amira shook her head as she straightened in her saddle. She angled her mare into the deepening water, up to the mare’s knees, and checked her horse’s reins. As the angry squalls of the kelpie silenced at their backs, she checked her horse to a walk.

Daindreth looked to her dubiously, even as he slowed his mare beside hers. “Is the kelpie dead or just done with the Kadra’han?”

Amira shook her head. “The forest has shifted again. The kelpie went quiet too quickly. Even if he’d been shot, he wouldn’t have died instantly.”

Daindreth forced himself to take a deep breath. “We’ve lost him?”

“For now,” she replied.

Chapter Twenty-One

Thadred

Sairydwen inched after him, using the heels of her hands to balance against the edge of the cliff face.

Thadred leaned against the cliff as much as he could, limping one step at a time. He forced himself to move at twice his usual speed, the screams of the mule still ringing in his ears.

“Do you think it will chase us?” Thadred asked. “Or do you think it will be fine just eating a few Kadra’han and their horses?”

“It wasn’t eating,” Sair said. “That was a male. He was guarding his territory.”

Thadred glanced back at her. “Okay...so what does that mean for us?”

Sair shook her head. “He might be content just to kill the other horses, but I doubt it. If the Kadra’han don’t kill him, he’ll want to make sure we’re all taken down.”

“That smart?”

“Yes.”

“How smart?”

“What do you mean?”

“Can it count?” Thadred jerked his head toward the top of the gorge.

“I’m more concerned with him following our scent.” Sair cast a glance over her shoulder. “Kelpies can be relentless in pursuit.”

Thadred groaned and continued on. “How far is the Haven from here?”

“I don’t know,” Sair said.

“Do you at least know which direction it’s in?”

“No.”

Thadred rolled his eyes. “So we’re doomed?”

Sair shook her head quickly. “It is not that simple.”

“Explain, witch,” Thadred clipped.

“Don’t call me a witch!”

Thadred snorted. “What are you going to do? Put a spell on me?”

Sair’s nostrils flared. “If you—”

“Think of it as payback for landing me lost in a cursed forest with a moody sorceress who can’t use magic.” Thadred probably shouldn’t have been upsetting her, but he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea, especially after he’d rescued her.

For a moment, he thought Sair would argue, then she went on. “The Cursewood moves, but it moves around the Haven. We could arrive in the Haven as soon as we cross the river or in three days. It all depends.”

Thadred swore, glaring at the sky. “We won’t last three days.”

Sair had no response to that.

They continued down the edge of the cliff face. Thadred wracked his brain, thinking. Would Dain and Amira be able to find them in this madness? Would it even be possible?

“There might be a way,” Sair said quietly, so quietly that Thadred almost didn’t hear it over the roar of the river.

“What?”

“We could call for help.”

Thadred blinked back at her. “Seriously? No one will hear us except maybe the kelpie.”

“I didn’t mean with voices.” Sair looked him dead in the eye. There was a coldness to her words and a hint of something vaguely threatening.

“You can’t use magic right now.” He nodded to the dull grey manacle still dangling off her wrist, held awkwardly in front of her.

“No,” she agreed. “But you can.”

“Think I would have noticed by now if I could.”

“Not necessarily,” Sair replied shortly. “But you have magic.” She cocked her head. “I have felt it.”

Thadred refocused his efforts on getting down the side of the cliff. “Right.”

“You do. How do you think you survived the fall on your horse?”

“Just now?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Look, I’m not a sorcerer,” Thadred clipped. “Maybe my Kadra’han curse kept me alive, but it’s nothing special.”

“I can sense the damage that was done to your hip,” Sair said quietly. “There’s significant scar tissue on many of your internal organs, too. Only a powerful sorcerer could have survived that.”

“I can’t even sense ka,” Thadred said. “I told you.”

“If you have a sword,” Sair said, “and you refuse to look at it, are you any less armed?”

Thadred rolled his eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you can call for help.”

“Call who?”

“My people,” Sair explained. “They can help us.”

Thadred considered that for a moment. Calling on her people was probably better than a bloody death by kelpie. That didn’t change that she and her kind wanted to murder Dain. “So, they can imprison me and kill my cousin?” Thadred grunted back, edging around a particularly tricky boulder.

Sair huffed. “I was never taking you prisoner.”

“Oh? Could’ve fooled me.” Thadred skidded as a stone gave way and he scrambled to catch his balance again.

“Careful,” Sair said.

Thadred glared at her.

“We can free you from your curse,” Sair said. She offered those words again like an olive branch, like a hand stretching across the divide, but for once it was Thadred who knew more about this aspect of magic.

“No, you can’t. Stop saying it.” Thadred didn’t even need to consider it. Sair and the Istovari might be powerful. They might have the generations of knowledge that he and Amira had been deprived, but they couldn’t break a Kadra’han’s curse.

“They can be broken,” Sair insisted. “Every curse can.”

“I know that,” Thadred snapped back. “But a Kadra’han’s curse is placed on the Kadra’han by themselves. Only they can break it.”

Sair frowned at him. “What makes you say that?”

Thadred hesitated. He didn’t want to reveal that Amira had freed herself from her curse. Not just yet. That was more information than Sair needed. “I don’t know. Just...something I must have heard somewhere.”

Sair considered it for a moment. “Either you were taught more of magic than you’ve let on or the princess has taught you.”

“Princess? Oh, you mean Amira.” He waved a hand dismissively. “She and I don’t really get along, truth be told.”

Sair was quiet for several moments, but that might have been because she was trying to find a way along the narrow ledge without falling to her death. “What’s she like? The princess.”

Thadred laughed. “She could cut Dain’s heart out and he’d thank her for it.”

Sair didn’t seem to know what he meant. “I don’t understand.”

“She’s a monster in some ways,” Thadred said. “But a woman, too. Even a little girl at times. One moment, she looks ready to bite our heads off and the next, she’s crying in Dain’s arms. I haven’t really figured her out yet.”

“Has any man ever really figured out a woman?” Sair asked. Her tone was flat, factual. Not teasing at all. Thadred was a little relieved by that.

“Fair enough,” he admitted.

The two of them reached a narrow outcrop that doubled over their heads, leading into a narrow, sheltered pocket over the river.

Thadred heaved a great sigh and sat down, groaning as he did. His entire side ached and a dozen other places on his body throbbed sore.

“I’m too old for this,” he muttered to himself. Twenty-seven and already he was too old to be dashing about the forests and rescuing damsels.

“How do you think I feel?” Sair clipped back. She eased down beside him, wincing as she did. She cradled her hands in her lap, staring down at the bloody wounds in her palms. She twitched a few of her fingers and winced. “I think he severed some of the tendons,” she said, her voice almost a whimper, but not quite. “I can’t move my pointer finger.”

“Not fun, is it? Being a cripple.” Maybe he should have been more gracious. Dain would have been. Hell. Dain would have had the woman weeping on his shoulder by now.

Sair looked out across the gorge and the pounding water below. “We should get home in time for my sisters to heal me.”

“If not?”

“Then it won’t matter. We’ll be dead.” Sair rested her head against the back of the cave.

“Delightful.” Thadred closed his eyes.

“They would come and find us,” she said. “If you would help me summon them.”

“No,” Thadred countered.

“Why not?”

“I want nothing to do with magic.” Thadred folded his arms tight across his chest. “Summon them yourself.”

“I can’t,” Sair replied, raising her wrist with the tenebrous steel cuff.

Thadred grabbed her wrist and studied the shackle. He tried prying the pin loose, but couldn’t get his nails under it. He tilted it left and right, but couldn’t see a spot where he could rip it off. Huffing, he dropped her wrist.

“That blocks your magic?”

“It prevents me tapping into my own ka, yes,” Sair answered. “Much the way your ring did.”

Thadred glanced at her sideways, deciding not to comment on that last part. “How does it block your ka, exactly?”

“Tenebrous steel absorbs ka,” Sair explained. “That’s why it seems to disintegrate spells when you have large amounts of it. But it doesn’t, not really. It just soaks them up.”

“Huh.” Thadred folded his arms across his chest. “I’m still not using the magic for you.”

From what Sair had said so far, acknowledging he was part Istovari and learning magic came with...he wasn’t sure he understood it correctly, but Sair had made it sound like the Istovari would own him and expect his loyalty. Thadred had finally gotten away from the woman who had dictated most of his life and he had no desire to replace Vesha with the northern sorceresses.

He wanted nothing with strings attached, especially strings tied to the clan that had cursed and now wanted to murder Dain.

How much should he tell this woman? How much was safe to tell her? Could he reveal that Amira suppressed the cythraul? That things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed?

Would Sair stab him in the back as soon as the chance came? He’d rescued her for the sake of having a guide—at least that was what he told himself. Then he remembered how it had felt to see her weeping and bloodied in front of Fain and he wasn’t sure even he believed that. He would have taken her place in an instant if he’d been able.

Thadred remembered Sair had a man and found himself getting angry again. Why had he let her go into Lashera alone and unprotected? She’d had a child with this Rhisiart fellow and cared for him enough to name that child after him. So where was he?

On that line of loved ones lost in the forest—where were Dain and Amira? They were still somewhere in this forest. How was he supposed to get to them?

The whole point in coming to Hylendale had been to get an audience with the sorceresses, but if what Sair said was true and they just wanted Dain dead...

Thadred inhaled a long breath. He didn’t know enough about these women to take such a big risk with Sair. What if she was just trying to trick him into helping her eliminate the threat she saw in Dain?

But what if this was a chance? What if Thadred could get into the Haven, as Sair and Amira called it, and persuade the sorceresses to help?

Then again, who was he fooling? Thadred had hardly ever been able to persuade anyone of anything in his life.

“Just try,” Sair urged him. “Why don’t you want to use magic?” she pressed. “Why wouldn’t you want to use a power you already have?”

Thadred wasn’t sure of the answer to that.

“I’m afraid, Thadred,” Sair said.

The knight shot her a quick glance. Her eyes were large and she bit her lower lip. He might have thought she was being coy if she had been anyone else, but no. She was telling the truth—about her fear, at least. There was real and honest fear in her eyes.

“I’m afraid of the kelpie,” Sair said, her voice so soft it was barely audible over the rushing of the water. “I don’t want the Kadra’han to find me when they have the time to do as they please. I don’t want to die not knowing if my son is safe from them. I’m afraid.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears and she blinked quickly.

Thadred didn’t know what to say. He’d had women rage at him, sob at him, coax, and seduce. He’d seen enough acts to know real emotion when he saw it. And Sair might very well be manipulating him, but her fear was real.

“I can’t do this, Thadred.” There was his name again. Hearing his name from her lips felt...significant. Almost like a promise of its own. “I need your help,” Sair pleaded.

Thadred exhaled a long sigh. He had nothing to lose at this point. “What do you want me to do?”

Sair’s eyes lit up. “Sit across from me,” she urged. She shuffled to sit cross legged in front of him.

Thadred groaned and moved to copy her. Between her wounded hands and his bad leg, it took both of them quite a bit of time, but they eventually dragged themselves into position.

“Close your eyes,” Sair urged, excitement hard to mistake in her tone.

Thadred let off a huff and did as the sorceress told him.

“Rest your hands on your knees,” Sair said. “Yes, good.” Her tone took on a calm, soothing lilt. “Now breathe. In and out. In and out.”

Thadred’s eyes snapped open. “Yes, I know how breathing works.”

“Just focus on my words.” Sair was unfazed. “You agreed.”

“Fine.” Thadred clenched his eyes shut.

“A few more times. Deep, slow breaths. Feel the air come into your lungs and fill your chest. Good.”

Thadred arched one eyebrow, but kept his eyes closed.

“Now reach up and press your hands together in front of you, palms touching.”

Thadred did as she said, feeling like an idiot.

“Good. Now lock your fingers together with your right thumb under your left. You’re left-handed?”

“Yes.”

“Then left thumb under. No...” Sair prodded his fingers to readjust them. “Now keep breathing.”

Thadred kept inhaling and exhaling long breaths out his nose, though his mouth tightened in annoyance. They should be doing something productive, not—

“Relax,” Sair said. “You say you can’t see ka, but it’s all around you. It wants to be seen by you.”

Thadred had no response for that.

“Focus on the beat of your heart there in your chest. Most of your ka is pooled in your chest and in your skull. I want you to feel the top of your head. Any sensations or awareness of anything that is coming from the top of your scalp. Now slide that awareness down the back of your head. Imagine that you are able to sense the energies pooled at the back of your head.”

“I still can’t feel it,” Thadred countered. “You say my ring was the problem, but it’s made no difference.

Sair cleared her throat. “Just imagine that you can. Now imagine you’re pulling that energy from your head down to your chest.”

Thadred imagined it. He saw the energy as a ball of blue light, crackling like veins of lightning as he pulled it down and focused it on his chest.

He focused on the sensation of his skull and his spine, drawing and directing an imaginary force down the shape of his back and into the beating organ behind his ribs. His chest tightened and he tensed, flinching.

“Breathe,” Sair reminded him. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

Thadred almost made a retort at that, but realized he had indeed forgotten to draw a breath.

“Keep focus on your chest,” she said. “Be aware of what you feel behind your sternum. Imagine you can feel your heart expand and contract.”

Thadred kept his eyes closed and imagined all the little capillaries and the massive arteries, his heart with all its intricacies and foibles. It thrummed deep and steady, a pulse that he felt deep in his core.

He could feel it pulsing through all the sinews and muscles and organs that sustained his life. Constant, thrumming, rhythmic, deep as the center of his body, but even deeper than that.

It pulsed in time with something primordial and old. A rhythm that had been played long before his heart had begun thrumming in his mother’s womb.

It was odd. Strange. Ancient. It spoke.

Not in words, not quite that, but in a knowing. A state of being.

It was the beginning and the end. Eternity and ephemerality. Transformation and preservation. Life and death.

Life?

Thadred held onto it, whatever it was.

He kept breathing in and out, focused on that sense of life within his own body.

He could feel that life tangled around the shattered bones and wrongly healed joints in his hip, stitched through where his organs had been ruptured. Like old sutures, they remained in everything that had been broken, like a child’s desperate efforts to patch a favorite doll.

“Good,” Sair said. Her voice was far away or seemed to be. “Now think of where you are. Not just the cave. Your place.”

Thadred didn’t know what she meant and yet he did. He could feel himself in the fabric of eternity, in the endless flow of birth, death, and rebirth. A world of constant change that was somehow unchanging.

The Cursewood pressed around him like smoke, toxic and threatening, brooding like a snake about to strike. This place wasn’t even under a curse, it was a curse.

The life within it was twisted, perverted. It made him think of rotten corpses and poisoned wells.

“It’s too tainted here,” Thadred said.

“No,” Sair whispered, as if she could sense him withdrawing. Maybe she did. “Your ka is yours alone. The Cursewood can’t hurt you. Push it back.”

“How?”

“How would you push it back in the natural?”

Thadred inhaled and was a little surprised when he didn’t cough on the Cursewood’s smog. He focused on the noxious cloud around him and imagined waving it away like he would a smoke cloud.

Except, unlike a smoke cloud, the Cursewood’s blight didn’t swirl and puff around him.

The Cursewood snapped back. For one instant, Thadred’s head cleared of the Cursewood’s poison, it shoved away from him. The curse scuttled away like a million cockroaches.

Thadred heaved a deep breath and almost laughed. He could do this after all.

No sooner had he allowed himself a chuckle than the curse slammed back into him. It hit like a punch to the gut.

Thadred pitched forward, narrowly missed knocking into Sair, and sprawled on the ground.

Cursing and spitting, he pushed himself onto his elbows.

Sair watched him silently, her bloodied hands held lightly in her lap. “That should be enough for them to find us,” she said.

Thadred glared at her. “You could have warned me it would feel like getting a right hook to the sternum.”

Sair shrugged. “You were already skeptical you could use magic. I decided you didn’t need anything else to hold you back.”

“That wasn’t magic.”

“No? Then what was it?”

Thadred had no answer for that. “Did it work?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” Sair replied. “You didn’t channel a lot, but you should have created enough of a disturbance in the Cursewood for the mothers to establish a link.”

Thadred blinked at her. “I understood about two of those words.”

Sair blinked back t him. “It should work, but we won’t know for some time.”

“Wonderful.” Thadred offered her a caustic smile.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Daindreth

Daindreth looked ahead of them. The riverbed grew deeper the farther it went. Fed by inlets and streams, it gradually swelled. When it passed the horses’ knees, they steered back onto the riverbank.

“The Haven would need water, wouldn’t it?” he asked. “What if we followed this river?”

Amira shook her head. “Yes, but no. I told you. You’ve got to stop thinking of the Cursewood as somewhere that will make sense.”

Daindreth let a breath out his nose. He still didn’t fully understand how that was possible, but very little seemed possible in this place. He smeared sweat from his forehead.

They had drunk the last of their water this morning and his head had begun to throb with the effects of dehydration. The water at their feet was a dirty grey, brackish with gods knew what, but Daindreth was surprised to find himself tempted.

As if she shared his thoughts, Daindreth’s sorrel mare dropped her head to the water and then jerked away, snorting. If the horses wouldn’t even drink it, he and Amira shouldn’t either.

“We won’t last long in this place, Amira,” he panted. “Not without clean water.”

“I know,” Amira answered softly. “I know.” There was an edge to her voice, a tenseness that made him want to fix this—all of it—but he didn’t know where to start. “We need to keep moving,” she said. “If the kelpie chased us into the other Kadra’han, it’s possible that—” She paused, frowning. She looked ahead, downstream. “There’s something...”

“What?” Daindreth followed her line of sight. “What is it?”

“Ka,” she said. “But...different. Like something is working a spell. A large one.”

“Could it be the Kadra’han?”

Amira shook her head. “I don’t think they have that much magic.” She chewed her lip and looked to him, then her eyes went wide as she peered over his shoulder.

Daindreth twisted around to find the black shape of the kelpie emerging from the forest once again. Dark stains marked the kelpie’s muzzle, chest, and forelegs—fresh blood.

The mares didn’t notice him at first, pawing at the water.

“Plan?” Daindreth asked, adjusting the grip on his sword.

“I don’t—”

The kelpie charged again, careening down the riverbank and barreling toward them.

Their horses leapt into a gallop without hesitation.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Thadred

“In the meantime, what are we supposed to do? Wait here?”

“Probably best,” she said, glancing down to the river below. “We’re safe here.”

“Can we move closer to the Haven? Make it easier for them to find us?”

“Distance means nothing in this place. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Thadred scowled at her.

Sair let off a long breath. “We can stay here or go back the way we came or keep moving ahead, but it won’t make it any easier or harder for them to find us. We—” Sair frowned and turned her head. “What’s that?” She looked upriver, glancing down the riverbed.

Thadred followed her gaze and didn’t see anything for a moment. Then two horses careened into sight, galloping along the narrow strip of gravel between the cliff face and the water’s edge.

A small bay mare was in the lead, her rider’s red braid trailing behind her like a tail. Directly behind them was a sorrel mare with a man carrying a sword, swinging it at the black stallion galloping after them.

Thadred blinked twice, hardly able to believe it. “Dain! Amira!”

The assassin was the first to look up. “Thadred?”

“It’s them!” Thadred could hardly believe what he was seeing. He stumbled to his knees at the edge of the cliff. He and Sair’s ledge was perhaps twenty feet over their heads, well out of reach of the kelpie on their trail, but also too high for their horses. “Up here!” Thadred yelled, waving wildly.

He did the first thing he thought of and grabbed the rope he’d taken from Sair’s hands.

Dropping onto his stomach, he lowered it as far as he could, but that only closed the gap a few extra feet. Damn it, what was he thinking? What was he even supposed to do here?

The kelpie caught the sorrel mare in the back leg, snaking past Dain’s defenses. He ripped and the mare went down, squealing as she fell.

Dain stumbled and leapt off the mare. As boys, they’d practiced for safety in the event something just like this happened.

“Daindreth!” Amira dragged on the reins and brought her mare back around.

The little bay mare was having none of it. Squealing, the mare bucked, thrashing and fighting to run.

Thadred saw Amira make a decision an instant before she flipped off the animal’s back. She drew a blade as her mare fled downriver, but the assassin was at least fifty paces away from the kelpie.

The sorrel mare raced after the bay, and the kelpie was on Dain already. The black stallion stomped with hooves and snapped with teeth. Dain shouted and swung with his sword.

He nicked the kelpie and the stallion skirted back, but lunged again. He reared up and stomped, Dain twisting out of the way as fast as he could.

“What are you doing?” Sair screamed. She tried to stop Thadred, but her mangled hands couldn’t catch hold.

Thadred scrambled down the edge of the cliff, not even sure how he made it from the twenty feet between the ledge and the riverbank.

He dropped down and Amira almost collided with his back. She’d crossed the distance and was running for Dain.

“Out of my way!” she screamed, blade in hand.

Thadred wasn’t listening. The kelpie dove for Dain again and Thadred grabbed it around its neck.

The kelpie was a small horse and Thadred’s arms wrapped around it easily. He locked the thing’s neck against his chest and jerked it away from his cousin.

The kelpie had to weigh ten times what Thadred did, but the moment one of its hooves left the ground, he yanked, jerking it off balance. Thadred yanked the kelpie sideways and away from Dain.

He didn’t realize that he was falling until he caught sight of Dain’s look of horror and heard Amira shout his name.

Then he and the kelpie were crashing backward into the river. They fell with a massive splash and the last thing Thadred saw was the black water slamming over his head.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Amira

Daindreth dropped his sword and rushed to the edge of the river.

Amira caught him by his collar before he dove in after the knight and the kelpie. The two interlocked foes fell into the river and the current sucked them down. She had no idea when the river had become that deep, but this was the Cursewood.

“Thadred,” she panted, not letting go of Daindreth. They’d come so far and gone through so much and now they found him, and no sooner had they been together again than...

Amira grabbed Daindreth and wrapped her arms around his chest from behind. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, surprised by how much her voice trembled. “I’m so sorry.”

Daindreth braced his hands at the edge of the river, shaking his head. “It was my fault,” he gasped. “I was the one who decided to come into the Cursewood. He was protecting me, I—”

“Shush.” Amira hugged him tighter. “No, Daindreth. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was.”

“It wasn’t. Shush. We need to move,” she said the words as softly as she could. “The kelpie could come back, and we can’t be here when it does.”

Up ahead, their horses had already galloped out of sight, taking their provisions and most their gear with them.

“Princess Amira? Archduke Fanduillion?”

Amira looked up, following the source of a ka signature she hadn’t noticed before. “You!” She let go of Daindreth and drew her dagger, standing between him and the sorceress.

Sairydwen crouched on her knees at the edge of an overhanging ledge, watching them with an expression that was hard to read. “You should come up here,” she said, her voice strained. “The kelpie...might come back.”

“Where are the Kadra’han?” Amira demanded, not sensing them anywhere nearby. But the archer had to have been the one shooting at them back there. Though Amira thought the sorceress would be at odds with Vesha’s men, at this point, she wasn’t taking any chances.

“In the Cursewood,” Sairydwen answered. She stared past Amira to where Thadred and the kelpie had gone under the water. “Thadred and I ran from them.” She inhaled a long breath. “I didn’t realize the water was that deep.”

“How do we know you won’t trick us with another set of spells?” Amira demanded.

Sairydwen shook her head and raised her hands. Even from a distance of twenty or so feet, Amira could see the bloody gouges in her palms and grimaced, but Sair nodded to the dull cuff around one wrist. “Tenebrous steel, courtesy of the Kadra’han,” Sairydwen said wanly.

Amira knew only a little about tenebrous steel, but she knew enough to know it would have disabled a sorceress like Sairydwen from working. “Then what was that flare of ka that I sensed earlier?” Amira demanded. “Was that you? Or the Kadra’han?”

“It was Thadred,” Sairydwen answered softly.

“Thadred is no sorcerer.” Amira stumbled over her own words. Should she have said was?

“He has a gift,” Sairydwen answered. “If he isn’t a sorcerer, then he could have been.”

Amira searched more closely. She certainly didn’t sense any unusual levels of ka from the woman now. Unlike last time, there was nothing even mild enough to be mistaken for lichen or moss. The entire cliff face and everything surrounding Sairydwen was barren, save for the miasmic cloud that hung over the entirety of the Cursewood.

Daindreth stood behind Amira and jabbed an accusing finger at the sorceress. “You sent him to his death!”

Sairydwen shook her head. “I tried to stop him, but he...” She looked back to the river again. “He saved me from the Kadra’han. He didn’t have to, but he...” She trailed off. Her face was a vacant, shellshocked mask. For a space of heartbeats, she said nothing. Then, shaking her head, she seemed to remember what she had been saying. “As I said, the kelpie may come back. You would be safer up here and I would rather not be alone.”

Amira looked to Daindreth. She noticed him blinking back tears, his fists opening and closing. “Daindreth.” Amira touched his arm with her free hand.

“She’s the reason...” He shook his head. “I can’t just...”

“Thadred trusted her.”

“How do you know?”

“He wanted us to climb up. He wouldn’t have said that if he feared she’d betray us. Besides. She can’t use magic and she’s alone.”

Daindreth lowered his head, fists still clenched at his sides. He seemed to steady himself, then nodded. “Alright.”

Amira kissed his cheek and sheathed her dagger. She studied the cliff face—jagged and worn by decades, maybe even centuries of water and weather.

It wouldn’t be hard to climb up, though her hard-soled riding boots might prove to be a bit of a challenge.

“Come,” Sairydwen beckoned. “Thadred’s spell should be drawing help soon.”

“Help?” Amira cocked one eyebrow skeptically. She had moved toward the cliff, but now hesitated. She suspected that she and Sairydwen had very different definitions of that word.

“My sisters,” Sairydwen said. “He sent a message to them. They’ll find me soon.”

“Oh?” Amira cocked one eyebrow. “That was kind of him.”

“Would you rather die in this place?” Sairydwen countered.

“According to you, the Istovari mothers want us dead anyway.”

“Not both of you,” she answered, her gaze sliding past Amira to Daindreth.

Amira drew her dagger again.

“Princess Amira—”

“The Kadra’han might have lanced your hands, but if you even think about touching Daindreth, I’ll cut them off, do you understand? Same goes for any sorceress who wants to try.”

It was Daindreth’s turn to touch her arm. He stood close enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence, the ka seeping out of him.

Sairydwen inhaled a long breath and leaned back, out of sight. “You would doom us all for your infatuation?”

“It’s not—” Amira froze, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Something changed in the air. There was a shift and a flutter, like a deck of cards reshuffling.

“Amira!” a male voice called.

She snapped her head to the left, back the way they had come, and her heart nearly stopped. “Iasu.”

The other assassin had a scratch on his temple and moved stiff on his left side, but he strode confidently across the gravel. He carried his hands loose at his sides, but that was little comfort. He had a myriad of sharp blades and hooked throwing knives strapped to the padded armor over his ribs, layered like the scales of a fish.

Iasu came to a halt some twenty or thirty paces away from them. “It’s been a long time, little sister.”

Iasu was nearly a head shorter than her. It was laughable for him to call anyone little, but Amira didn’t laugh.

Daindreth drew his sword. “The Kadra’han from the warehouse.”

Iasu raised his chin, studying them both.

Amira’s heart beat faster. Iasu had been at Kelamora around the same time she had. He’d been a young recruit, too, but bound to the empress already.

Originally from the empress’s homeland, he was small, tan, and stood out in most crowds. When his gift had been discovered while he was still a toddler, he’d been sold by his parents to traders who had in turn sold him to the Kadra’han trainers at Kelamora.

He’d once told her that he couldn’t even remember his first language now. He spoke Erymayan perfectly and with an imperial accent that threw most people off.

“Are you alone?” Amira demanded. She glanced surreptitiously for cover, anything she could use as a shield for when his knives started flying.

“No more than you,” Iasu answered. He stood with one foot behind the other, body shifted sideways in the ready stance.

“I can’t let you take him,” she said, shaking her head. “You know I can’t.”

“I know,” Iasu said with a sigh. He considered the many knives and throwing weapons strapped over his chest. “But I can’t let you keep him.”

Amira glanced from left to right, searching for the other Kadra’han. “How many were there?” she called to Sairydwen, hoping that the woman would have no incentive to lie.

“Four,” Sairydwen said.

One had presumably been ripped apart by the kelpie, so that left two unaccounted for.

“I’m stronger than you, Amira.” Iasu kept prodding at the knives, like a master artist choosing the best brush for a particular piece of canvas. “I’ve spent years serving my bond instead of fighting it as you did with your father. You can’t win.”

Amira wasn’t so sure that was true. Istovari were one of the strongest, if not the strongest, sorceress bloodlines to exist. What was more, she was the only Kadra’han she knew of who had been able to break the curse associated with her bond.

Still.

“I don’t want to fight you, Iasu,” Amira said, stalling for time.

“And I don’t want to fight you,” Iasu answered mildly. He plucked a star-shaped knife from near his hip and examined it, cocking his head to one side. “But the empress ordered me to bring the archduke back alive and make sure you were dead.”

“I have no intention of being taken alive,” Daindreth answered calmly. “And I have no intention of letting you touch her.”

Iasu let off a slow breath. “I heard about your suicide attempt,” he said. “I admit, it does complicate things.” He dropped his hand with the throwing star to his side. “How to do this?” Iasu glanced between them, contemplative.

Amira sensed a new flare of ka right before she caught a flicker of motion from above, behind Sairydwen. She looked up and Daindreth shouted. From the corner of her eye, she saw Iasu move an instant before a silver streak shot for her head.

“Amira!” Daindreth grabbed her and jerked her out of the way as Iasu’s throwing star spun through the air where her head had been.

Iasu cursed as his weapon missed and disappeared into the river.

“Run!” Amira panted, grabbing Daindreth’s arm. “We need to—”

A cry from above was the only warning before Sairydwen hit the gravel with a crack. She let off a cry, lying prone on the ground and clutching at her left ankle awkwardly, her mangled hand hovering over it without quite touching.

Amira grabbed Daindreth’s arm even as the second Kadra’han studied them from overhead. “Let’s go!”

Daindreth pulled back, reaching for Sairydwen.

Amira cursed, using words to make a sailor’s blood curdle. The Kadra’han knew Daindreth. Knew he’d never leave behind a hurt woman right in front of him—even one who had outright threatened his life not too long ago.

Knowing better than to argue, Amira drew her dagger and glanced between Iasu and the Kadra’han overhead—a middle-aged man she didn’t recognize. “Grab her,” she ordered. “And let’s go.”

Daindreth sheathed his sword and snatched Sairydwen off the ground, dragging her up by one arm roughly enough that she let off another scream, but didn’t resist. He looped her arm across his shoulders and gripped her waist, holding her upright.

Amira led the way around the bend in the river, putting the huge boulders between them and Iasu. She caught a glimpse of the other Kadra’han jogging after them easily, another throwing knife in each hand.

“How soon until your friends get here?” Amira demanded, whirling on the sorceress.

“I don’t know,” Sair gasped. “You and the Kadra’han found us quickly enough.”

As much as Amira hated the idea of being “rescued” by the people who’d once tried to kill her and apparently still wanted to kill Daindreth, she didn’t see any better options.

“Amira, lead!” Daindreth panted, already out of breath from carrying Sairydwen.

She didn’t want to leave his flank unguarded, but Iasu wouldn’t want to risk stabbing Daindreth.

And the Kadra’han were in no hurry. With Iasu at their backs and the other Kadra’han tracking them from above, there was no escape. All they had to do was keep on their trail until one of them couldn’t go on any longer.

Amira wracked her brain frantically. Two Kadra’han at their backs, one dead...that meant there could be one more.

Though they shouldn’t be able to set up an ambush in the Cursewood—the forest should have separated and confused them—the Kadra’han were coming. They would kill her and kill Sairydwen and then nothing would save Daindreth.

Her heart thundered wildly in her chest. She remembered the red eyes of the cythraul, its gravelly, sulphury voice. She couldn’t leave Daindreth to that thing.

A bloom of ka flared into her consciousness from just up ahead. Amira cursed at the sight of the third Kadra’han in front of them.

He was taller than the others by at least a head, a bastard sword held easily at his side. He waited for them with his feet a shoulder width apart and a cold, calm expression that made Amira’s chest lurch. He had the look of a man who knew he was going to win.

Amira skidded to a stop and Daindreth right behind her. They stood back-to-back beneath a ledge with a tangle of vines and branches overhead, moss hanging in ropes like the matts of a beggar’s hair.

Daindreth set down the sorceress. She groaned and whimpered but made no complaint. He drew his sword. “I’ll take the swordsman.”

“Good plan,” Amira mumbled. He had the best weapon to meet the other man’s sword.

Overhead, she could still sense the ka of the older man, but he was still a few hundred safe paces off. What had stalled him?

Also, how could she sense him from that far away? She would have expected that the Cursewood would have confused and disoriented his trail by now.

Iasu stopped and at Amira’s back, the swordsman made no move to advance, either. She and Daindreth had a single advantage and that was that the Kadra’han couldn’t hurt him.

Disarming a man without harming him was far harder than the plays and ballads would have one believe. Near impossible if one’s opponent knew what they were doing—and Daindreth did. He might not be a Kadra’han, but Amira had seen him fight enough to know that he could hold his own.

“Plan?” Daindreth asked.

“Don’t die. Don’t get captured.” Amira inhaled deeply, watching Iasu.

The other Kadra’han approached at an easy walk but didn’t reach for another knife. He wouldn’t risk throwing knives again with her and Daindreth standing so close together.

Iasu studied her from head to foot, measuring her stance, her balance, the state of her disheveled clothes. “Do you remember the last time we fought, little sister?”

She did remember. They’d been children and it had been at least ten years ago, but he had won. Soundly.

Amira’s head pounded from dehydration even as sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades. She smeared her forearm over her forehead, not taking her eyes off the other assassin.

“I remember that I knocked you flat on your back,” Iasu said. “And that you cried when I bruised your jaw.”

Amira didn’t respond. He was trying to bait her.

A clang of steel sounded from behind her as Daindreth clashed with the Kadra’han at her back. She had to force herself not to turn, trusting Daindreth to handle the swordsman.

Iasu lunged, anticipating that she would turn to Daindreth, but instead was met with her dagger blocking his jab. His sword was a little shorter than his arm and curved slightly with an angled point—a kodachi.

Amira ducked beneath his sword and dodged his kick. In the instant before his foot came back down, she sent a sharp blow to his weight-bearing ankle, knocking him back.

Iasu stumbled, almost going down, but skirting to the side out of reach, regaining his balance. “Good girl,” he growled.

He came at her again as the ring of steel on steel grew louder, faster at their backs. Amira’s heart raced, but she forced herself not to look back.

Daindreth would be fine, she reminded herself. The Kadra’han couldn’t hurt him.

Iasu crouched low, left hand forward, right hand cocked back and ready to strike with his blade. He never took his eyes off her, but his eyes never stayed in one place. He flicked over her hands, her feet, her body posture.

“Use your power,” said a strained, choked female voice from Amira’s right. Amira didn’t dare take her attention off Iasu, but Sairydwen spoke from the ground, shifting awkwardly. “You’re a daughter of Istovar. This place was created by your mothers.”

“This place is a nightmare,” Amira shot back.

Iasu flexed slightly to one side and Amira shifted to mirror him, ready for his attack. She felt the gravel beneath her feet, balanced as carefully as a feather on the edge of a knife.

She’d taken on at least ten Kadra’han before, but that had been different. Those men had been weakened by feeding the spells of the empress and she’d had the advantage of surprise, the dark, their massive underestimation of her, and more than a few pillars and steps to complicate the terrain.

Here, she might have only one opponent, but he knew her, it was broad daylight, and there was only the gravel at their feet.

“It’s our nightmare,” Sairydwen answered, her voice soft. “Your nightmare.”

“Is that supposed to be better?” Amira snapped.

Iasu charged. He jabbed for Amira’s side, and she deflected while stabbing at his ribs. His free hand grabbed her wrist and he yanked back.

Amira slammed into his chest but brought her deflecting dagger back around and stabbed for his neck. He realized his mistake and ducked, but not before her blade sheared along the side of his neck, spraying blood.

Iasu brought his arm back and recoiled to strike her in the shoulder, but she was closer and jabbed her dagger for his side. Iasu let go, skirting backwards out of her reach. Her dagger caught his side but bounced off the layers of knives around his torso.

He touched the side of his neck, scowling when his fingers came away bloody. It was a shallow cut, but just an inch to the side and it would have been enough.

Amira panted, the clang of swords behind her louder and more furious by the moment, but she couldn’t afford to lose sight of her own opponent.

Iasu studied her more carefully this time. He crouched, barely moving, yet watching her with an intensity that made every muscle in her body scream that she needed to act, to defend herself. To attack first.

Iasu jabbed with his kodachi left and right, from down and above, his knife hand swift as a striking snake. Amira deflected, shoving away the blows. She caught a rhythm and alarm shot through her the instant she realized what he was doing.

He struck again in time to his beat of strikes, but this time instead of recoiling when she blocked, he struck out with his free hand. Amira expected it and had a dagger ready to meet him.

Her blade caught his wrist, jabbing under the top of his bracer. His hand recoiled and he flinched.

Taking a few steps back, Iasu swatted at his bleeding neck and the red stream trickling down his left hand. “First blood. Are you proud of yourself?”

Amira said nothing. Her heart thudded in her chest and hammered in her ears. She studied his every tilt and step for even the slightest sign of weakness, the narrowest opening that she could exploit.

One wrong move from Iasu and she could end this. One wrong move from Amira and he would end her.

“No matter,” Iasu panted, smearing the sweat out of his eyes. “Last is what counts.”

Amira struck for his side again and Iasu blocked, catching one blade with his bracer and jabbing for her torso with his own blade. Amira blocked and they broke apart again, hovering just outside each other’s reach.

Iasu tilted his head from side to side. His neck cracked and he flexed his shoulders. “Come, little sister. You can do better than that.”

Amira’s first impulse was to lunge for him, but she knew better. She hadn’t always been faster and had never been stronger than her Kadra’han brothers. While she was more than powerful enough to take on men who didn’t know what to expect, Kadra’han who were just as trained and even more experienced—

Iasu attacked again. They traded blow after blow and Amira blocked and jabbed, but this time, Iasu didn’t retreat. He struck with full force that meant Amira either had to block or be beheaded.

She raised her dagger in time to catch his blade, but the force sent her reeling. He shoved and slammed her back into the face of the cliff.

Amira’s still-healing shoulder sent a shooting pain through her whole side. Her instant of hesitation gave him an extra second and he slammed his blade closer.

Amira fought to hold the gleaming metal off her neck, muscles straining and fighting with every ounce of strength she had. She couldn’t out-muscle him, not in a direct contest, and he knew it.

She held his sword off her neck, but with the cliff trapping her at her back and the force of his shove pressing against her arms...her shoulders burned and her forearms ached. His blade came closer, closer, and brushed against a bead of sweat that dripped off the end of her nose.

Amira strained, searching for a way out, but if she kicked him, that might shift her off balance and send his knife into her neck. If she twisted, that might break her out of the lock, or it might bring his blade slicing down on the back of her neck instead of her throat.

Over Iasu’s shoulder, she spotted Daindreth slashing and parrying with the other assassin. The Kadra’han was giving ground, but he seemed to hold back less and less with each strike.

Daindreth had meant it when he’d said he had no intentions of being taken alive.

She was his Kadra’han—she was supposed to protect him. If she died, he would be on his own with the demon. And without Thadred, he would be done for. If Daindreth was taken back to Mynadra, more than just him would fall under the demon’s shadow.

She couldn’t lose. Couldn’t.

“You’re Amira Brindonu!” Sairydwen shouted it. “The blood of Eponine herself flows through your veins.”

Amira’s arms and shoulders burned, and she didn’t know how she was still holding Iasu off. She shoved back as hard as she could and fought to think of something, anything, to help.

She reached for ka, but there was only the miasmic, tainted fog around her. It slithered and seeped around her in all directions, threatening to choke her.

“This is our nightmare,” Sairydwen said, softer this time, a whisper.

Amira wasn’t sure if the sorceress had spoken at all or if it had been a thought.

Our nightmare.

Amira knew of nightmares. She’d been running from them for years.

The Cursewood was a sorceress’s nightmare. It fed on a sorceress’s fear—the fear of a poison world, a world where nature was twisted and warped into oblivion. The mothers had turned their nightmare into a shield, a weapon to protect themselves.

If they had done it, why couldn’t she?

Amira pulled at the poison fog of ka all around her. She dragged it into her lungs and pulled it into her veins.

Iasu’s eyes widened as he sensed the magic burn into her.

The tainted ka slithered through her pores like tar. Instead of flowing like golden waves, it billowed like the noxious smoke of a midden fire.

Her chest burned and her whole body ached as she dragged it in, pulling it into her in disjointed, smoky wisps.

Her throat tightened and she thought she would choke, but she forced herself to keep taking it in. She didn’t know any spell strong enough for what she wanted to do. She didn’t have a coherent thought of any incantation or shape for the magic. There was just this rotted, maggoty power.

Iasu’s eyes widened as he seemed to realize what would happen, but too late.

Amira sent the Cursewood’s infected power down on him in a deluge. She spun it like a web, knotting it around his head and then his whole body. Strand after strand, she wrapped it around him in an invisible cloud.

Iasu coughed even as Amira gagged.

She couldn’t sculpt it, weave it, or shape it as she could with any other ka, but she could shovel it, heap it on him like dirt. Amira dragged the sickening power to press down and around Iasu.

He fought back and she sensed him using his own ka to try slicing through the smog, but this was her nightmare.

Iasu stumbled back and Amira nearly fell when the pressure on her neck came off. She collapsed to her knees, arms weak and shaking.

“Amira!” Daindreth shouted, seeing her go down.

Iasu coughed, then recovered himself. He stumbled to his feet, raising his weapons to charge.

An arrow slammed into him from above, piercing his thigh. With a shout, he went down. Amira heard the arrow crunch into the gravel beneath his leg, pinning him in place.

Iasu cried out and dropped his weapon. His hands flattened on the ground, and he looked up at Amira, sweat beading his face even as he went pale with pain. “That’s cheating,” he grunted.

Amira looked up to see a man in dark brown standing over them along the cliff. The stranger drew back his bow again, aiming for the Kadra’han fighting Daindreth.

“Daindreth, get down!” Amira shouted.

The archduke dropped into a crouch without looking back.

The Kadra’han swordsman didn’t even look up before dropping into a roll and skittering out of the way. An arrow buried itself into the ground where he had been just a moment ago.

The Kadra’han archer loosed two shots after the new archers before turning and running into the forest after his companion. He retreated and Amira lost sight of him. His ka disappeared just as she became aware of several others.

Amira pounced on Iasu. She slashed the shoulder straps of his leather breastplate and held her knife to his neck as she yanked it off him. Next, she searched him for knives, daggers, poison, or any other kind of weapon she could find.

Iasu didn’t move, though he growled in annoyance.

“I’m not enjoying this,” Amira spat in his ear as she groped over his chest and back.

“You’re not my type either,” was his biting retort.

Once she was sure that he wasn’t concealing any other weapons, she stepped back. Daindreth had come to join her.

He had gone to Sairydwen and helped the sorceress to stand. One arm held her up and the other held his sword.

Amira looked up in time to see more hooded figures dressed as hunters emerge from the trees. They carried no swords and no blade longer than a skinning knife, but each was equipped with a bow and a quiver of arrows at his hip. She sensed a stronger aura of ka than usual. They were Istovari even if they might not be full sorcerers.

“Sairydwen?” the first archer called. He was probably in his late twenties with a day’s beard growth and dark hair that fell to his shoulders. He looked more than a little like Thadred and that gave Amira pause.

“I’m here,” the sorceress called back, leaning heavily against Daindreth.

Amira faced the cliff, looking up with a heavy pounding in her chest. She looked to Daindreth. He was a good ten steps from the shelter of the cliff and there were at least five archers over them with nocked arrows.

If the Istovari decided to shoot, Amira didn’t see how the two of them could stand a chance. The Istovari had wanted to kill Daindreth anyway. They might not shoot with Sairydwen under Daindreth’s arm, but what was to keep them from trying something else?

The first archer rappelled down the side of the cliff face, landing with a light thud. He held his bow in one hand, though he didn’t have an arrow ready.

“Sairydwen?” He glanced between the sorceress, Daindreth, Amira, and the Kadra’han pinned to the gravel by his thigh.

“Tapios.” Sairydwen exhaled the name in a sigh of relief.

“Are you alright?” The archer, Tapios, held one arrow lightly against his bow, but he made no move to aim or draw it.

Sairydwen looked to Daindreth, then Amira.

“Who are they?” Tapios asked.

“Princess Amira Brindonu,” Sairydwen said. “And Archduke Daindreth Fanduillion.”

Tapios recoiled and above, the other Istovari flinched as well. “You mean the archduke who—”

“He saved my life,” Sairydwen said. She pushed away from Daindreth, standing awkwardly on her own. “The empress’s Kadra’han took me hostage and did this.” She held up her mutilated hands with the steel cuff still dangling from her wrist. “But he refused to leave me behind.”

Daindreth let Sairydwen go, though Amira thought perhaps they should have kept the woman as a hostage. Not that it would do them much good at this point. It wasn’t like they could leave the Cursewood without the help of the Istovari anyway.

“Sairydwen...” The archer moved closer.

Sairydwen reached for Tapios, stumbled, and all but fell into his arms. He clutched her to his chest and pulled her back, dragging her well out of reach of Daindreth and Amira.

Amira moved closer to Daindreth, not taking her eyes off the archers above them. “Daindreth.” She kept her dagger drawn, still holding Iasu’s collection of knives and blades in one hand.

These men didn’t seem trained, not as soldiers, anyway. They were organized enough, but there was a tension and an uncertainty in them that marked their inexperience. Most likely, they were only accustomed to fighting kelpies and the Cursewood’s other ilk.

“Amira?” Daindreth didn’t take his eyes off the archers, either. “I don’t know what—”

“Are you really the archduke?” Tapios pressed, studying Daindreth from head to foot.

Daindreth glanced sideways to Amira before answering. “I am.”

Amira flinched at that admission. These sorcerers would want him dead.

Tapios frowned, looking Daindreth over again. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Short of your expectations?” Amira moved just a little in front of the archduke.

Daindreth pulled her back. “Easy, Amira.”

“Amira Brindonu.” Tapios looked at her with less suspicion, but just as much interest. “We’ve heard much of you. Queen Cyne will be glad you made it.”

Amira’s throat tightened unexpectedly. Amira hadn’t seen the woman in almost twenty years, not since her mother and the other sorceresses had left her bleeding out on the floor of a tower.

“They came to petition the mothers,” Sairydwen said. She raised her voice for the men above to hear. “So we will take them to the mothers.”

“Sairydwen, if we allow that thing into the Haven, I—”

“They saved my life,” the sorceress interrupted. “And we outnumber them. We will let them take their case to the mothers.”

Tapios inclined his head in resignation. “As you wish.” He kissed the top of her head, still holding her against him. Then he turned and looked to the top of the cliff. “We’re taking these three to the mothers.” He gestured to Amira, Daindreth, and Iasu.

“He is not with us,” Amira interjected, pointing to Iasu. “Quite the opposite.”

“Whether he is with you or not, makes no difference to me,” Tapios flinched and inclined his head slightly, as if to apologize for his tone. “Your pardon, sorceress. But we take him to the mothers.”

Amira frowned. He recognized her as a sorceress and that seemed to earn her respect from these men, regardless that they were now taking her prisoner.

“Surrender your weapons. You understand I can’t allow you to keep those.”

Amira looked to Daindreth. They were being taken prisoner. No matter what Sairydwen might say, Amira didn’t anticipate the sorceress’s goodwill to last beyond the borders of the Haven.

They would be at the mercy of those witches who had cursed Daindreth’s father, left Amira for dead, and made it clear through Sairydwen that they wanted Daindreth dead, too.

“This is what we wanted, isn’t it, my love? An audience with the mothers?” Daindreth sheathed his sword and then set to unbuckling his baldric.

Amira gripped her dagger tighter as he set down his sword and then removed his set of two knives with it. “Daindreth.” She said the name softly, desperately. She hated this. Hated everything about it.

He looked to her with a gentle set to his face. “This is how it has to be, beloved.”

Amira inhaled a long breath and dropped Iasu’s set of weapons and then her own dagger.

“Come.” Tapios signaled to the archers overhead. “I need two of you to carry the wounded Kadra’han. Reff and Inad, watch the princess. Juliander and Kove, you watch the archduke. The rest of you watch our backs.”

Amira was a little impressed as the trees moved and at least ten more archers appeared behind the rest. Their ka emerged as their shapes did and she wondered if that was a trick of the Cursewood or a trick of the Istovari men themselves.

Those above weren’t all men, she realized. Several of them were girls who looked to be in their teens and at least one woman with wrinkles lining her face. Their ka was still stronger than most people’s, but still too weak to be sorceresses.

Tapios removed his cloak and draped it over Sairydwen. “You’re safe now,” he said, rubbing her back.

Amira watched them as archers surrounded her and Daindreth. None of them drew their bows just yet, but they all kept arrows nocked on the strings.

The Istovari gathered up Iasu. They tied his hands behind his back and snapped off the arrow that pinned him to the ground. His face contorted in pain, but he didn’t make a sound. Two of the men dragged him upright and carried him slung between them, gripping his arms.

One of the archers looked pointedly to Amira and Daindreth, a coil of rope in his hands. He took a step toward them and Amira tensed.

“No,” Sairydwen interrupted. “They will remain unbound.”

“The princess is a Kadra’han,” Tapios reminded her.

“Bound to the archduke now,” Sairydwen said. “If they try anything, just kill him first.”

Amira moved closer to Daindreth at that threat. He took her hand in his and squeezed.

“Not like this,” Amira whispered. “Not as prisoners.”

Daindreth shrugged. “They were always going to have the upper hand. No matter how we came.” He let off a long sigh.

The archers finished gathering up Iasu and two young women reached for Sairydwen. They supported her on either side, careful of her wounds.

“Move out,” Tapios ordered. He sent scouts ahead and ordered a circle of guards around Amira and Daindreth. “Go quietly,” he said. “Or you’ll learn how unhospitable we can be.”

Anger bubbled in Amira’s chest, but Daindreth pulled her back.

“We mean no harm to you,” the archduke said calmly. “Not to you or your people. We will prove that to you.”

Amira let him lead her after the archers, keenly aware that all of the Istovari stayed out of arm’s reach and kept arrows nocked and at the ready. She felt naked without her weapons, as helpless as she’d felt when Daindreth had first taken her back to Mynadra. When she’d thought he meant to kill her.

“I love you, Amira,” Daindreth said unexpectedly, face trained ahead on the archers leading the way. “If this goes wrong...” He exhaled and looked to the river—the same one that had dragged Thadred and the kelpie under. “Well. Just know that.”

Amira squeezed his hand tighter. Her throat constricted and she didn’t know what to say.

They walked onward after the archers, hoping that the sorceresses of the Haven would be merciful.

Epilogue

Thadred woke up.

Gravel pressed against his cheek and most of his side. He was wet. Soaked to the skin. And cold. Very cold.

Immediately after realizing he was cold, he realized he was in pain. Excruciating pain.

Everything was sore and everything hurt. Groaning, he rolled onto his back. The gravel pressed against his shoulders and spine and that hurt, too.

He looked up, blinking at the sky. Dark, sickly branches snaked overhead, the thorns of the Cursewood. But something was...different.

It took him a moment to realize that the sky was clear. There were no clouds concealing the stars or the moon. It was the first time he had seen the skies of the Cursewood as anything but overcast.

Water trickled somewhere nearby. He moved one leg—his good leg—and water sloshed.

Thadred pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking around.

He appeared to be along an inlet or tributary of the river. The water was still here, and the banks of the river lined by trees instead of rocky cliffs.

Something flicked at his side, and he jumped thinking it was a snake, but no. It was just the rope he’d taken off Sair. It had somehow wrapped around his wrist when he’d fallen into the river with the kelpie.

Remembering the waterhorse, Thadred sat up. The gravel around him was churned, but he could see no other signs of any other life along this riverbank. His heart beat a little faster as the cicadas and frogs chirruped and croaked around him.

He cocked his head to the side, surveying the world around him. It was glowing—but not.

There were warm sources of something around him, spotted through the grass and trees like pebbles. A hazy mist hung around him, not quite visible, but not quite a feeling either.

Was this...what this what he thought it was?

A flare of brightness caught his attention to the left. It was hazy, vague, and darker than the glow of the frogs and insects, but it was still coming.

It drifted up along the riverbank and Thadred’s heart thumped harder in his chest. He pulled himself upright, scrambling away from the water’s edge, but he was too late.

A black shape leapt up out of the water, wild white eyes almost glowing in the dark. Thadred rolled just as two black hooves stomped where he had been lying a moment ago.

The kelpie snapped and dove for Thadred again. Thadred smacked the rope in its face like a whip.

The kelpie jumped back, then charged again, ears pinned and white teeth flashing in the moonlight. Thadred kicked and caught its nose square on the end of his boot.

The kelpie’s nose cracked and the waterhorse stomped his frustration. He backed up a few strides and pawed at the ground.

Thadred dragged himself toward the trees. Maybe if he could climb one, he could get out of the kelpie’s reach.

But he hadn’t climbed a tree since before his accident and even stairs and ladders gave him trouble these days. Especially with his injured side aching and the hip joint throbbing—

The kelpie lunged and this time it leapt past Thadred’s defenses to clamp its jaws around Thadred’s arm. It jerked Thadred off the ground and straight up into the air. Its front hooves kicked at Thadred and it was only because he was so close that his guts weren’t pulverized on impact.

Thadred punched at it with his free arm, but the kelpie shook its head, teeth crushing his forearm and tearing his sleeve. He was sure he was bleeding. Something ripped and he wasn’t sure if it was the linen or his own flesh.

He punched the kelpie again, this time in the eye. The waterhorse loosened his grip just enough that Thadred was able to wrench his arm free.

The thing came at him again and all he could think to do was what he had done at the riverbank.

He grabbed it around the neck, hugging it against his chest as tight as he could. Despite being smaller than a destrier, the kelpie was still as high as his shoulder. The thing shoved back, slamming him into the base of a tree. Thadred grunted with the impact, but the contorted angle kept the kelpie from pulverizing him. The kelpie kept him pinned against the tree and he kept his arms wrapped tight around it for dear life.

The kelpie lashed out with its forehooves and missed, striking the tree at Thadred’s back. Bits of obsidian blackbriar flew in all directions like shattered glass and Thadred was grateful it hadn’t been his kneecap.

“Come on!” Thadred yelled, adding worse words.

The kelpie whickered and then slammed Thadred back again. It twisted around, teeth flashing.

The kelpie’s head came up and one large, luminous eye rolled toward Thadred. The kelpie’s eye caught the light of the moon and shone just as pale, flicking over Thadred hungrily.

Thadred stared at that eye—thin black iris surrounded by milky white, reflecting like an abalone shell. Thadred’s head spun, and he was plummeting through sensations and smells and sights faster than he could think.

He felt the soft mud squish under his hooves, the marsh grass whipping across his legs and tickling his belly.

He was a wandering loner, hunting and guarding his territory. Seeking out companionship, but the other horses that came here weren’t like him. They had no meat teeth and their hooves rotted after too long in the mud.

He ate them sometimes, other times he drove them away. He wandered and waited. He’d been alone for a long time. A very long time.

He was a yearling, forced out of his herd by an older, bigger stallion. He’d been hurt in the fight and the bites on his neck had ached for months. He hadn’t seen his herd since.

He was a colt, catching frogs with his milk teeth while the rest of the herd watched over him.

He was a newborn foal, born in the river and straight into the cold of the current. His mother and the other mares guided him to the surface for his first breath, their warm scent the first thing he breathed in.

Above, a full moon looked down on him, as caring as the nuzzling of the mares.

Lleuad.

Thadred stumbled back, gasping. He fell and landed hard on the gravel. He looked down at his body, half expecting to see hooves and a tail. But no—he was still human.

He shook his head and blinked to clear the images from his mind. What had happened?

The kelpie was standing over him. The kelpie’s ears twitched as he studied Thadred.

Breathing heavily, the knight pushed himself up on his elbows. He was prone on the ground. The kelpie could easily stomp him to death. Heart racing, he kept still.

The kelpie swished his tail. He lowered his head and raised it again.

The stallion took a step closer. He didn’t charge this time, studying Thadred the way a normal horse might study a strange fence post or a new saddle.

Thadred dared to sit up.

The stallion took another step and then another. He sniffed at Thadred’s boot, ears twitching.

His head came up and he stomped. He studied the knight curiously.

It occurred to Thadred that perhaps the kelpie had seen into him the same way that he had seen into it. What would that have meant? How would an animal brain even begin to understand the complexities of a human life?

The kelpie nosed at his boot, but didn’t make to bite him again.

“Lay-odd.” Thadred carefully sounded out the word he had heard in his head, the only word he’d been able to properly describe.

The stallion’s ears twitched at that.

“Is that your name?” he asked. A minute ago, he would have thought it stupid to speak to a horse, but it made sense now. “Lleuad.”

The kelpie chuffed.

Thadred swallowed. This animal could kill him. Had tried to kill him. He should be more careful, but...

He reached up with his left hand—the one he could most easily live without if it was bitten off. Carefully, he extended his knuckles toward the kelpie as one would a strange dog. The knuckles on both his hands were bloody, the reward of punching a horse.

The kelpie sniffed his hand and dragged a rough tongue over the scabs, making Thadred wince. Then he dropped his head to sniff Thadred’s neck.

Thadred went stiff, acutely aware of those sharp teeth dangerously close to his throat.

The kelpie nosed at his neck and sniffed his hair. The stallion himself smelled like salt and forest. There was a faint smell of leafy decay, but also a wildness that reminded Thadred of mountains.

The kelpie extended his neck so that he tucked Thadred’s shoulder under his throat. He shook his mane, sending strands of black hair into Thadred’s face.

Thadred patted the kelpie’s neck because that seemed the thing to do. He scratched the crest along the mane, feeling the sleek silkiness that reminded him of a muskrat.

The kelpie pulled up and Thadred let go. The kelpie dropped his head again and stomped but kept his neck within reach.

Thadred frowned and put his arm around the kelpie’s neck again. The kelpie raised his head, but this time, Thadred held on and let the animal pull him to his feet.

Thadred swayed, leaning on the horse for balance.

The kelpie whickered and swished his tail. He mouthed at Thadred’s arm, where blood was seeping through the tears in Thadred’s sleeve. Still, the animal didn’t bite again.

Thadred patted the kelpie’s withers, not really sure what he had done, but...well. The thing wasn’t trying to kill him anymore. He might have thought it was some sort of trick if not for the visions he’d seen. He’d seen the kelpie’s life—his whole life. It was strange, alien, and made no sense, but it was just as sensible as anything else that had happened since entering this waking nightmare that was the Cursewood.

“Lleuad,” he said again, getting used to the name.

The kelpie rolled a large eye in his direction. At first, Thadred thought that the creature was annoyed, but he just flicked his tail and let Thadred pet him, acting for all the world like any other stable horse.

Thadred laughed, throwing back his head.

He was lost in a cursed forest, alone with a man-eating horse, possibly being hunted by Kadra’han, and he had no idea where Amira and Daindreth were. Despite that, it seemed to him for all the world as if he had just tamed a kelpie.

Thadred looked up to the moon. Something was still different about it in this place. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but at the moment it was the least strange thing happening in his life.

Thadred stroked Lleuad’s neck and the stallion just stood there, allowing the contact as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Thadred had never used sorcery before today. He’d never shown any ability before.

But perhaps Sair had been right. Maybe he did have a bit of magic after all.

Releases December 13, 2022!

Captured by one enemy, hunted by another.

Amira and Daindreth risked everything to find the Istovari sorceresses, the women who placed the curse on Daindreth’s family years ago. It did not go well. Now they have been taken captive, their lives only spared because of one sorceress’s request that they be given a fair trial.

To the Istovari, Amira is at best a slave and at worst a traitor to her people while Daindreth is nothing but the son of their greatest enemy and the vessel of a demon. To make matters worse, the Istovari sorceresses claim they are weakened, lacking the power to free Daindreth even if they wanted to.

Lost in the wilderness of the Cursewood, Thadred must rely on his wits and the magic he never thought he had if he wants to survive. With imperial agents closing in, he struggles to find his way back to Amira and Daindreth in time to warn them.

When tragedy strikes the Istovari, the opportunity presents itself for Daindreth and Amira to win the clan’s trust and save their own lives—assuming they don’t die in the process.

But they have yet to find a way to break Daindreth’s curse, and the demon lurking in his mind is only growing stronger.

Beauty and the Beast meets The Witcher in this Fantasy Romance that is sure to delight fans of Sarah J. Maas, Kristin Cashore, and Leigh Bardugo.

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About the Author

Elisabeth Wheatley is a fantasy author because warrior princess wasn’t an option. She loves tea and asking questions.

You can find her at elisabethwheatley.com