The Warrior's Curse (The Traitor's Game 3) - Page 94

The condor’s wing was stretched out, and beneath it I saw the hem of Kestra’s cloak and Gabe’s boot. Basil knelt and lifted the wing, then frowned at me, far too solemn.

Cautiously, I stepped around the bird, holding my breath for what I might find. There in the snow was Kestra with her arms wrapped protectively around Gabe.

I barely dared to ask Basil, “Are they—”

Gabe moved first, and his movement brought signs of life from Kestra, though her eyes were slower to open. Once they did, she released Gabe, and her eyes darted about as if embarrassed.

Gabe only smiled. “I knew we needed to become closer friends, but this goes too far, Kestra. Simon is watching.”

Her smile at him was forced, and when I helped her to her feet, without looking directly at me, she said, “Rawk is injured. Tend to him. I’m all right.”

Something was bothering Kestra, but she didn’t appear to be in any danger, so I ran back to Rawk and found him licking one wing. I inspected it and saw what appeared to be a break in the bone.

“We can fix this,” I said. “But you’ll have to be nicer to our healer.”

Harlyn ran to me, having seen what had happened. “I’ll get Rawk to Woodcourt. He knows me. Maybe Loelle can help him.”

I nodded and patted Rawk’s neck affectionately before Harlyn began leading him away.

When I found Kestra again in the trees, she was on her knees in the snow, one hand over her mouth and head slumped downward.

“We failed,” she said. “No, I failed. I should have dropped the blade when I had the chance.”

“Then the condor would have grabbed it a second or two earlier, that’s all.”

She shook her head. “I could sense the echoes of all those people Endrick killed for their powers. Destroying the sword would be their final destruction.” Now she looked up at me. “But how many more people will die to retrieve the Olden Blade?”

That worried me too. So far, Joth hadn’t seemed to explore most of Lord Endrick’s powers. But he must have begun to access them, for he understood the importance of preserving the Olden Blade. And now that he had it, he would explore his powers further. We were all in terrible trouble.

She took my hands in hers. “We must end this fighting, Simon. No more death, no more destruction.”

“Then let’s end it. You’ve had a plan all the way along. Please tell me you have a plan now.”

Kestra sighed, then said, “I do. But no one is going to like it.”

Another meeting was held that night, this time in the Woodcourt ballroom. Nearly everyone within the Alliance who was still on their feet attended. Even Loelle came this time, though she stood in the back, clearly uncomfortable and no doubt keenly aware that the conversation was entirely focused on our single goal: removing her son from the Scarlet Throne at all costs.

Every leader stood to account for their group’s condition and needs. Thus far, the Brill had fared the worst, and my cavalry had the fewest losses, though we still had too many names listed among the dead. While most of them had been caused by the half-lives, there were also reports of Dallisors attacking Alliance soldiers from behind. I couldn’t understand that. If anything, Joth would be even crueler to former Dominion members, to those who had helped trap the Navan in the forest before they were cursed. But they had chosen sides again and would have to pay the price for it.

Once all our leaders had spoken, it was my turn. I stood before the group, feeling all eyes on me. Kestra came to my side, and I took her hand in mine.

“We have had far too many losses,” I said. “But we cannot think of them as Reddengrad losses or Corack losses. Every fallen soldier is a loss to the Alliance, to all of us who remain. You and I, we are the Brill, we are Reddengrad and the Coracks, we are the Halderians, and”—I lifted Kestra’s arm in the air—“every one of us is the Infidante! We fight as one people, with one mind and one goal. Though it may seem like victory is far from our reach, if we stop now, we may never get this chance again. Every moment we wait is the chance for Joth to entrench in Endrick’s powers. We must attack tonight, while Joth sits on the throne. His defense is thin, only a small band of half

-lives and a few Dominion cowards on his side. We will attack, and we will win!”

A cheer thundered through the room, though when it fell silent, a Brillian near the front frowned at me. “It’s a good speech, but how is this to be done?” He waited for an answer, and when I did not provide it, he pointed to Kestra. “At least when she had magic, she could restore those half-lives so that we could fight them, one mortal to another.”

“We all know she still has magic,” a man next to him said. “There is no way to rid a person of magic!”

Kestra sighed, then reached into her satchel and withdrew the black disk blade. “This disk will do to Joth Tarquin what the Olden Blade did to Endrick. But it requires an Infidante to use it. The purpose of this meeting is to identify the new Infidante.”

“That must be you,” Trina said. “If it’s like the Olden Blade, then only the Infidante can touch it, just as you are touching the disk right now.”

I hadn’t considered that. I walked over to Kestra and held out my hand for the disk. Kestra offered it to me, but I hadn’t yet wrapped my fingers around it before I felt the heat coming from it, hot enough that I knew it would burn me if I attempted to touch it.

I pulled my hand away and frowned at Kestra. “Trina is right. You are still the Infidante.”

Kestra shook her head. “No, it can’t be me.” Her eyes widened. “It’s not me, Simon. I completed my task.”

Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen The Traitor's Game Fantasy
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