Yet one last spark flared within me as my heart reached out to try to clutch a single thought before it was taken from me too.
Save Simon.
The words lit through me for a brief instant, then were gone.
I didn’t know who Simon was or why he needed saving.
And then the name itself vanished.
“How do you know she will obey?” my father asked, believing me already to be asleep.
“Because Antorans have simple minds. When she awakes, she will only remember what I have allowed her to keep or what I have inserted in place of what I have stolen. She will be on our side.”
I would be on his side. That was my final thought before falling asleep. When I awoke, I’d be his uncaged wolf, at his service.
If I refused, he would kill me.
For I was an Ironheart now.
I first saw her in the market square.
It was the last place I’d expected her to be, but the greater surprise was how casually she wandered from stall to stall, carefree, even aimless, while she openly laughed and joked with those around her, as if the most serious concern on her mind was whether to wear red or blue at supper tonight. It was so unlike the Kestra Dallisor I had known that I moved in closer, wanting to be certain it was her.
This was her. Same dark hair, same smile. Same compelling eyes.
Same, but not the same.
Her long hair was elaborately braided with ribbons, probably by one of the four girls surrounding her, competing with one another to fulfill Kestra’s every wish before she thought to express it. I hadn’t seen that gray longcoat before, nor the green dress beneath it, and I wondered if the Olden Blade was hidden beneath it, against her thigh. She always kept a weapon there, and since she had claimed the Olden Blade, it had not left her possession.
It was the sole weapon that could kill Lord Endrick, and she alone could wield it.
Against my wishes, she had returned here, to the capital of Highwyn, less than a fortnight after renouncing her place within a family that loyally served Endrick. She was here to kill the king.
If that was still her plan, then why was she in this marketplace, holding up dresses to herself and dancing behind them? Whispering to her ladies-in-waiting, and causing them to burst with laughter?
The plan had changed, obviously. But I had rushed here from the southern tip of Antora as soon as I was able to ride. I’d barely slept, eaten only what I could forage along the way, and had been desperately worried for her safety. It was good to see her safe. It was good to see her at all, but something still felt wrong.
I moved toward her, careful to avoid drawing the attention of her guards, two burly men who were watching her with uncommon focus. I didn’t recognize either of them, but I had no doubt Sir Henry would have described me to every Loyalist in the city and promised a significant reward for my capture.
My arrest—and execution—would be swift, painful, and public, not only for Kestra’s kidnapping, but also because I was a Corack, part of the rebellion.
Or rather, I used to be a Corack. Now I was on my own. Still committed to helping Kestra complete her quest. Still committed to Kestra. She and I needed to talk somewhere in private. Not here.
By now, I was one stall away from her. Through the crowd of traders, buyers, and a few ragged children hoping to steal a bite to eat, I only saw Kestra. Seeing her again was like my first sip of water in weeks, my first spark of daylight in a darkened world.
The intensity of my stare must have caught her attention. Our eyes met, and at first I thought she knew me, but then she blinked and almost immediately looked away, clearly uncomfortable, then loudly told her attendants it was time to move on.
I followed, curious about her strange reaction. Obviously, she’d be as surprised to see me here as I’d been to see her, but what I saw wasn’t surprise, nor excitement or relief or concern.
It simply wasn’t anything. She’d looked past me like I was an open window.
Kestra was nearly to the edge of the market now, standing beside the road and probably waiting for her carriage. If she and I were going to talk, it needed to be now. I needed to separate her from her attendants. I needed a big distraction.
I moved closer, hoping to figure out something by the time I reached her. Except someone linked one arm with mine, pulling me back, and a voice hissed in my other ear, “Simon, no.”
I turned to see Trina, a Corack who had been part of our original mission to force Kestra to find the Olden Blade. Trina had hated Kestra from the beginning. She was the last person I wanted to see now.
The person who had grabbed my arm was Gabe, another Corack and a longtime friend. Or maybe he wasn?