“It gives them more time to disperse it through the trade channels without raising alarms.” I see what he means.
“It is fortunate, in a way, that some mortals have not waited. But who is to say how many are? The next Hudem may see far more murders than the last.”
Something Ianca said the first day we met in Bellcross stirs in my mind then.
When the second moon falls asleep and the sun awakes, all will suffer for what they have done.
Could that be what she meant? Was she seeing the aftermath of a massacre?
I’ve never seen Zander this crestfallen yet. My heart feels like a lead weight, watching it. “Stop for a second?”
He slows his horse to a standstill.
“Halt!” a legionary yells, and a cacophony of creaks sound as the long line of wagons stalls behind us.
I hop off Eros, leaving his reins dangling for someone to collect. I don’t care who.
Zander watches as I use the stirrups to hoist myself into his saddle behind him.
I mold my body flush against his and curl my arms around his torso.
He half turns, peering at me over his shoulder, our faces inches apart. “It has been awhile.”
Since the morning after we ran from Cirilea, heading to Gully’s Pass, to be exact.
“I thought you preferred riding alone?”
“Not today,” I whisper, my hands smoothing over his chest, both for distraction and for comfort. “We’ll figure it out together, I promise.”
His brow pinches. “Fearghal? How far to that clearing?”
“About ten leagues.” The mortal squints up at the sky through the looming trees. “We should just make it.”
“We’re a bit out in the open here, aren’t we?” We emerged from the thicket of trees and into this expanse of sparse grass and boulders as the sun was scraping across the western mountain ridge. The legionaries and mortals moved quickly to build a suitable camp before darkness fell, erecting tents inside the circle of wagons and stacking piles of foraged wood as tall as me at the four corners of our campground. To mark a perimeter, Elisaf explained, for the creatures deterred by fire.
When I asked him which creatures he meant, he quickly found a task that needed urgent completion.
“That is the intention.” Zander studies the landscape alongside me. The surrounding wall of forest is at least half a mile in every direction, and beyond, jagged mountains loom, no longer a distant view. “We expect to attract attention tonight. This way, we will see them coming from any angle.”
“The saplings?”
“This is where Flann said they met them once.”
“Why do I feel like bait?”
“Theyhave no use for you. But we are bait no matter where we go. At least this way, we control the situation.”
I inhale deeply. The air here is thinner, suggesting a higher altitude, and it reminds me of an approaching winter—cool and dry. Sleeping outside tonight isn’t appealing, but I doubt anyone will sleep. “I hate this.”
“So do I, but we have little choice if we want to find Drakon and Iago alive.” His gaze drifts over my outfit. “There are warmer clothes in the supplies Theon sent us. You should find some.”
“I will.” People began pulling on layers as we moved farther into Venhorn’s wild landscape. Now, many don fur vests. With the sun behind the mountain walls, the temperature drops degrees by the minute.
Beyond the invisible border of our camp, near a crop of stones, two mortals gently lower Ianca’s wrapped body into a hole. Gesine stands nearby, her head bowed as if in prayer. “I should pay my respects.”
“I will join you shortly. We must start these fires.”
“Need a spark?” I hold up a finger, and a small flame appears on its tip. It has become so easy to beckon on a whim, now that I know what to look for inside. “I’m like a Zippo.”