Nevermore (The Never Sky #2)

Chapter 51

51

T uck had circled and circled Stirling, stopping at every nonsensical shop and store the others thought would be good. The plan had been to make ourselves seen prepping to go visit my family home. Make sure no one suspected we were following the prince. We’d stopped and bought meats and cheeses for my aunt and a dress for my cousin that was going to be getting married, riding that lie as far as it would take us. Because sure we were going to be gone at the same time as the Hunt, but we were headed in the opposite direction. Or so Thalena was meant to believe as Archer talked her ear off over his excitement, while Harlow and I selected a dress and Thorne sat silently. Every Silk in the city would know where we were going before we even left town.

Harlow had been the perfect friend, gossiping with the ladies about Thorne and I, convincing them it was such a delight to be invited to come and how she and my cousin had become pen pals. We talked about shit that didn’t matter. Ribbons and fashion and even the weather and the spring blossoms. Anything to make our story convincing, including dropping a few nuggets of gossip just because. And then we were off, not toward my family home, unfortunately, but half a day behind the prince’s caravan. And by the time we were done, no one in the city would question a thing. It’d been a flawless performance.

We’d stopped just outside the prying eyes of the city, and I finally got my first glimpse of the world beyond Stirling as we ditched the carriage, leaving Tuck behind as we mounted the horses several members of the Fray had brought. I’d known there were mountains in the distance, of course, because I could see them from the rooftops, but the grass was turning a vibrant green out here in the open, and the warmth of the sun was hidden beneath the chill of a breeze. More proof that the season was changing. As if I needed that damn pressure from the universe.

As I swung my leg over the saddle and settled onto the horse’s broad back, Thorne mounted up behind me, his chest pressing against my back as he reached around to take the reins. The warmth of his body seeped through the layers of my riding clothes and only then did it occur to me just how long this day was going to be.

Harlow was seated onto her mount with little effort, and Archer followed suit on his. We’d agreed to take as few horses as possible, but we’d need a third for the king. As he settled into his saddle, Archer flashed me a roguish grin, leaning down onto the horn. “Ready to chase down a prince, Fingers?”

I returned his smile. “You’re far too excited, Toes.”

His smile fell. “We talked about that. ‘Toes’ is weird.”

“And Fingers isn’t?” Harlow asked, the sorrow from the morning growing more dull the farther away from Willard we got.

“Actually, no it’s not, Harlot. Fingers the Bandit is too long, obviously.”

“If you want to keep fair, we could start calling you Toes the Menace,” Thorne said.

“Fuck all the way off,” Archer answered.

With a click of his tongue and a gentle squeeze of his heels, Thorne urged our horse forward. When I glanced back and saw the dimpled smile, my favorite of his, I couldn’t help but follow suit. Archer and Harlow fell in beside us as we set off at a brisk trot. The rhythmic pounding of hooves filled my ears as we rode, the wind whipping through my hair and tugging at my clothes. The farther we got from Stirling, the more the tension in my shoulders eased. Out here in the open, with nothing but rolling hills and endless sky stretching before us, I felt a sense of freedom I’d only ever known at the Syndicate house back home.

Thorne’s strong arms bracketed my waist, holding me steady as we navigated the uneven terrain. Every now and then, his breath would tickle the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with the cool spring air.

Beside us, Archer and Harlow rode in comfortable silence, their horses close, heads bent together as they conversed in low tones. I caught snatches of their conversation on the wind. They spoke of their mother, even their grandmother, who’d raised them. But there was something else. Something they spoke of so quickly, they’d argued and stopped talking altogether.

As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Thorne called for us to make camp for the night. I typically never needed enough power to feel drained. Occasionally I was exhausted, but not like this. Because no matter what I did in Wisteria, there was something wrong with my magic. Where I might have felt a jerk, a pull in a direction, chasing down Farris, pinpricks were all I had to guide us. No matter how I burrowed down, no matter how I pushed, still it felt muted. We found a sheltered spot near a bubbling stream and set about unpacking only what we needed. With heavy lids and half a day of yawning, I didn’t protest when the men offered to take turns on watch. I simply snuggled down in the rolled blanket and fell asleep without dinner.

After what seemed like only minutes, Thorne was shaking me awake. The horses were already ready to go, Archer and Harlow were mounted and somehow I’d slept through it all.

“You could have woken me sooner,” I whispered once we were on the road.

“Or I could have let you sleep. A simple thank you will suffice.”

I rolled my eyes but still thanked him as I settled in, resting against his chest. As we rode on, the rising sun warmed the air around us, but it was the heat of Thorne’s body pressed against my back that sent tingles across my skin. His strong thighs cradled mine, the hard muscles flexing with each sway of the horse. I found myself acutely aware of every place we touched, his broad chest against my shoulders, his hips nestled snugly against my backside, one arm around me to grip the reins, the other splayed comfortably on my abdomen.

With each mile, each hour spent sandwiched together, the air between us seemed to thicken. My body ached, and not because of the long ride. As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, Thorne shifted behind me, his hips rocking subtly against me in a way that made heat pool low in my belly. I bit my lip to stifle a gasp, my fingers clenching around the saddle horn.

I cleared my throat, trying to focus on anything but the delicious friction of Thorne’s body against mine. We had a mission, a purpose. I couldn’t let myself get distracted, no matter how tempting the distraction might be.

Thorne leaned in close, his lips brushing my neck as he murmured, “Something bothering you, Paesha darling?”

His low, rumbling voice sent a shiver down my spine, goosebumps erupting across my skin despite the growing warmth of the day. I twisted in the saddle to shoot him a mock glare over my shoulder. “Tease.”

Thorne’s answering chuckle was pure sin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Beside us, Archer made an exaggerated gagging noise. “Ugh, get a room, you two! Some of us are trying to keep our breakfasts down over here.”

I rolled my hips forward, letting myself rise and fall just enough with the horse to warrant Thorne’s grip tightening on my thighs.

“Stop it.”

I kept my tone innocent. “Stop what?”

“You know what you’re doing,” he growled.

I pushed further back, feeling just how much he really wanted me to stop as his rock-hard length pressed against me. “You started it.”

“If you think I’m too proud to share a horse with Archer, you’re wrong,” he growled.

I tossed my head back and laughed. Truly. Purely laughed. “You would never.”

“You underestimate me, Paesha darling. I’d give up all my pride if it meant hearing that laugh again. I’d share a thousand horses with Archer, if it meant your happiness.”

“Hard pass,” Archer said.

I sat up straighter, suddenly acutely aware of the prince. “They stopped.”

All sense of playfulness fell away from Thorne. “How far ahead do you think they are? Can you tell that?”

“A couple hours at this pace. Maybe one if we hustle.”

Thorne dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, urging it into a swift canter. Archer and Harlow matched our pace. I reached out with my magic, letting it guide me like a compass needle, pulling me closer to the prince and his entourage.

As we crested a hill, a vast forest sprawled out before us, the trees towering like ancient sentinels. I pointed towards the tree line, following the insistent tug of my power.

“They’re this way. Not too far at all.”

We urged our horses forward, plunging into the cool shade of the forest. The trees closed in around us. As we wound our way deeper into the woods, the trees grew older, taller, their trunks so wide it would take five men with arms outstretched to circle them. But just beyond them, past the forest, sat Farris’s caravan nestled down below in a valley at the base of a mountain.

“We’ll stay up here,” Thorne said quietly, guiding me off the horse. “We have the perfect view to keep an eye on them and hopefully we’re far enough away, the gods won’t sense us.”

“We know the Cimmerians need to be closer, right? To detect magic?”

“All good on that front,” Archer said.

Thorne nodded. “We’ll take watch in rotations. Look for our best opportunity. With the gods down there, I highly doubt any of them are doing anything productive tonight.”

We made camp, opting for no fire as we set all of our blankets out and sat in a close semicircle. With the horses tied up, Archer handed out a bit of the meat and cheese we’d acquired from Stirling and we ate while staring down and watching the revelry.

“The tents are massive,” Harlow said.

I pointed to a round little man that swayed with a drink in his hand before ducking into another of the tents. “Is that the king’s advisor, Archie?”

“Yes, but what the hell is happening over there?”

A train of people poured out of the central tent, the glowing Goddess of Lust leading the way as those that followed her danced and sang, completely naked. Their laughs carried over the music and trailed all the way up to the forest.

“Actually, you know what, nevermind. I absolutely don’t want anyone to speculate on that one,” he said, drawing back in disgust.

As the night wore on, the revelry in the valley below only grew wilder. The flickering light of bonfires cast dancing shadows across the canvas walls of the tents. Laughter and music floated up to us on the cool night breeze, punctuated by the occasional shriek of ecstasy or roar of drunken merriment. It was a scene of debauchery and excess, the prince, the gods and their chosen mortals indulging in every pleasure.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the spectacle, equal parts repulsed and fascinated. Beside me, Thorne sat still as a statue, his sharp eyes scanning the camp below, cataloging every detail. The prince lounged on a plush divan outside his tent, a goblet of wine in one hand, the other idly stroking the hair of the beautiful courtier draped across his lap. If I didn’t know he was so disgusting, I wouldn’t judge, but as it was, I wanted to pluck my eyes out.

“Wait a minute,” Archer said, sitting up taller. “Wait a godsdamn minute. We know they didn’t carry those tents and couches on their little caravan, right? I didn’t see anything big enough to haul that stuff, did you? A full-size couch, for gods sake.”

“Well, no, Archie,” Harlow answered. “He’d have had someone set this up days ago. Probably the day of the first bloom.”

“Exactly,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “He had a plan.”

“I’m not following why that’s such a surprise,” I said.

“Doesn’t it look familiar, Fingers? We’ve seen this. The mountains are there, see, and we’re in the forest. And the water is off that way. This was the map from his hidden room.”

I gasped, orienting myself until the landscape matched. “You’re right. And the tents must be the silver strings.”

“And that means the red dot is there,” he said, pointing to the far right.

I shook my head. “No, the dot was on the left side, remember, closer to the water?”

“There are thirty-two tents down there, Archie. None more guarded than another. But several haven’t been used at all and it’s likely, if the king is down there, he’s in one of those. We won’t have time to scour all of them,” Thorne said, hardly blinking.

“We know the prince has mainly been in or around the center tent. It’s not likely he’s staying there,” I said, then pointed farther left. “Bellatora, the Goddess of War and Ruin is camped down in that one. In fact, I think most of the gods are on the north side.”

“How many gods are here?” Harlow asked.

“Three,” Archer and I said in unison.

“Four,” Thorne corrected.

“Serene, Bellatora, Vesalia and who else?” I asked.

“Orathis,” he answered, pointing to a man that sat outside with several women in a circle, his shoulders covered in layers of pelts.

“I’ve never heard of him,” Harlow said, narrowing her eyes on the man. “What’s his divinity?”

Thorne tilted his head up, staring at the canopy of trees above us as if trying to pull information from a book he’d once read. “He’s easy to spot because of his furs and golden curls. Orathis Varyn, God of Nature and Wild Beasts.”

Archer snorted. “Is there a book in Stirling you haven’t read? Know-it-all.”

“Are the gods crawling out of the woodwork to get close to Farris now or what?” Harlow asked, hugging her knees to her chest.

“I think they are,” I answered. “They want the power Farris is hoarding. And I think he wants it for himself. He just doesn’t know how to use it, so he’s leading them on.”

“Has anyone counted guards and other people?” Archer asked.

“There are forty-five Cimmerians down there. More than I’ve ever seen in one place,” Harlow said quietly. “I think we would have had free roam of the city, had we stayed home for the week.”

“I left Tuck with a few instructions. He and the boys have their own missions this week. He’s to stay the hell away from the Maw for the foreseeable future. Everyone is, including you two,” Thorne said, giving the twins a pointed glare.

“You couldn’t pay me to go back down there.” Harlow turned her attention back to the chaos down below.

“Tell me again about the map,” Thorne said, the authoritative tone to his voice still lingering.

I lifted a shoulder. “It was just a map. The mountains were there. There was water on this side, which I don’t see now and then the valley.”

“There’s a river that runs through there. You can’t see it from here because it’s below that ridge. But I need more information. If you picture the map in your mind, how big was the dot? Were there others? Did you see the whole map?”

I closed my eyes, but Archer answered. “I’m telling you, it was right over there.”

I shook my head again. “No, I really think it was the other side, but even still, what are we going to do? Search every tent on that side—” I jerked upright. “Oh!” Answering the tiny tug on my magic, I followed, letting it lead me down below. “He brought the map. It’s down there in that tent across from him. Why would he have brought it?”

Archer scoffed. “Probably because he doesn’t want to leave a road map to his father lying around for anyone to find. Come on. We can all agree the king is down there, right? All these Cimmies, the detailed plan ahead of time, multiple gods, including new ones? It’s so suspicious.”

“Archer, if you had to narrow it down to a tent you think the king’s in, could you?”

He shook his head. “I know he’s on the right, but I couldn’t tell you specifically which one because the tents were just silver strings.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I don’t mess up directions. Let’s call it a gift. From a god. When I was born. Because,” I waved my fingers in the air, “magic. I’m telling you that dot was on the left, I think toward the top, but scouring even half the tents on both sides isn’t going to be a stealthy, quick thing. What if we just went down and got the map?”

“Right now?” Archer asked.

“No!” Thorne, Harlow and I answered together.

“We sleep in shifts. Wait for them to leave to hunt, hope the gods go with for the sport of it, and then we’re in and out. Get the map, confirm the red dot, grab the king, and get the hell out of here as fast as we can.”

“What are we going to do with him once we’ve got him?” Archer asked. “It’s not like we can just throw him back in his castle and wish him well.”

“That’s tomorrow’s problem. Let’s secure him first.”

The only thing I could think of as the conversation faded away was the little old king I’d met at Lithe. How his rescue, and my part in leading this team here, was why this was my path. And once he was secure, he would hopefully have the answers for how I was to get home. He was so, so close. And I felt so torn. I’d bonded with these people, and though Thorne had said he would return with me. What if he couldn’t? What if something changed and he didn’t want to? Could he just leave everything he’d built here behind? And could I really ask him to do that?

Harlow shifted restlessly. She’d been unusually quiet since we’d made camp, her gaze distant and troubled. She turned to face Archer. “Are we sure about this? Rescuing the king, I mean.”

“What do you mean, Har? Of course we’re sure. He needs us. It’s why we’re here.”

Harlow shook her head, her soft golden curls catching the fading light filtering through the trees. She bit her bottom lip. “I know, but… what if we’re wrong? What if the king isn’t even here? We’re risking so much on a hunch, on scraps of information we’ve pieced together. Look at all those Cimmerians. Plus the gods. It genuinely feels like a trap.”

She was right, of course. Logical. We didn’t know for certain the king was here. We were running on faith, on the desperate hope that we could put an end to Farris’s unofficial reign of terror. For me, it was so much more. However, faith was a fragile thing, easily fractured by doubt and fear.

Archer straightened. “You know we can’t sustain this way. We can’t afford to feed a fraction of the city forever. The operation is failing. The Fray are struggling now more than ever. We need the king to step in and set it right. But you’d rather walk away empty-handed? What are you even saying right now?”

“I’m saying this is a bad idea. Look down there and see the trap. We all know they hunt more than animals on these things and we’re sitting up here discussing walking right into it. If you’re all too foolish to see this for what it is, then fine. But I’m not going to sit back and watch you die. I thought this was a good idea. It’s not. It’s not worth our lives. Minimally, it’s not worth your power. Trust me on that one.”

Archer’s eyes flashed with anger. “So that’s it then? You’re just going to give up, let Farris win because you’re afraid? Since when do you back down from a fight, Harlow?”

Harlow’s voice became a low growl. “Don’t you dare accuse me of cowardice. I have sacrificed everything for this cause, for this family. I lost my power, my future, because of a choice you made. And I have never once held that against you. But I will not let you lead us to our deaths on some fool’s errand, all because you think things will change when you get the king alone and you can tell him the truth. It’s not going to work, Archer, and I just can’t understand why you care so damn much. I want to, but I can’t.”

“You know why I care. Why she cared.”

Harlow spoke through her teeth. “She never wanted him to know. Honor our mother and let it go.”

“He’s our father. I’m never going to let it go.”