Chapter 39
Ezra
I watched Erick’s retreating form as Cayden vanished into the dark. The ripple of his passing broke the night’s calm. Small scuffs on the cobblestones betrayed the tension in his stride.
My lover said he’d been acting funny. He was right.
The runes he’d activated on his legs made him unnaturally fast. I almost lost him, but the sound of someone grunting in pain came from one of our new gates, just down from the Esplanade. I rushed to find one of my officers unconscious on the ground and the other in a headlock.
Cayden’s magic was not fast. If he didn’t take my officer down with force, this would be the end of his adventure, whatever his goal was.
‘Send two officers to Market Gate,’ I relayed. ‘Cayden’s on the run.’
‘He must have a lead on Quinn,’ my lover said. ‘Do not lose him.’
My muscles primed to move—run or fight, I wasn’t sure—but I kept still.
My officer dropped, and Cayden bent down, making sure both of them lived. He took a final look toward the castle before trotting down, no longer bothering with stealth.
Again, I followed. A simple aerodynamic chariot with a team of four sleek thoroughbreds waited. The driver ran his hands over the runes carved along the side, and they glowed a dark green. I reached for the scant shadows and stepped, just as the driver snapped the reins and clucked.
Heedless of stealth, I dove for the back where large rubber wheels kept the chaise off the ground. I hauled myself toward the axle. My feet dangled, and I pulled them up, only to lose my grip with my left hand. A grunt escaped before I could stop it, echoing against the wooden underside.
I froze, waiting to be discovered, but the horses sped up. With one arm and the abs Quinn loved, I hauled myself up and hooked my feet into the framework.
The carriage bounced on the bumpy road. The thick cobblestones leading to The Green gave way to the broken asphalt streets of central Edinburgh.
Westwater’s border blurred my view before we turned.
Arms aching, I jammed my sword between the axle and frame and slipped it into my sword belt to stay in place.
‘Do you have eyes on Cayden?’ My lover asked through our connection.
‘Yes.’ I didn’t elaborate. ‘We turned northeast out of town. His ride is well off. Their magic is dark green, and the cart uses runes.’
A chill ran down my back, the same one I’m sure ran down my lover’s. What if this road led him home, and her into danger?
‘I’ll head out now,’ Xan said.
I didn’t disagree.
Post chaises were small and intended to carry one man, a few packages, and scrawls, which weighed nothing. With three, the cart ran slowly. Any second, they’d realize something was wrong. I had to stay ready.
I switched arms in the sling created by my sword and bumped my feet against the frame to keep them from going numb. The world passed us by. I switched arms three more times before my TB buzzed. Once, twice, three times, before just turning into a vibrating rock against my leg.
‘What’s happening?’ I demanded.
It took Xan too long to respond.
‘I can’t get to you; our home is under attack.’ Pain filled my lover’s mind voice. ‘Stay on Cayden.’
I grunted.
Our forces were bled thin after The Mile. I’d followed Cayden out, leaving the castle exposed, and Xan inside. We were the most vulnerable we’d ever been since we took our home.
If I’d been waiting to strike, I’d hit now. My grip tightened until the wood groaned. All I could do was hold on and pray.
An hour went by. My core burned from holding my bottom off the ground.
Finally, the chaise slowed, passing through thick walls of stone, metal, and magic.
A spell dragged across me, which must have alerted someone to my presence, but the chaise continued forward.
I kept my eyes and ears sharp. We passed through buildings, but no other horses. No feet.
We stopped. Dark-green magic crawled over the marble stairway to my left; to my right, shadows pooled thick as tar. The chaise lifted as someone stepped off.
“Welcome home, son.” The words scratched the air, dry and sharp enough to cut.
I couldn’t see Cayden or the speaker, but the tension choked the air.
“You’ve tethered her. My son. My pride.” Each pause scraped my nerves raw. “A woman worthy of our God. Strong. Too strong.” The man let out a sound, half laugh, half growl, that curdled my gut. The walking stick struck a steady executioner’s drum. “Make her one of us tonight. Claim her.”
My blood chilled, and I forced myself to breathe.
“Take me to Quinn.” Cayden’s tone didn’t waver, but frost coated every word.
A cane thumped, and footsteps pattered.
“She’s been prepared for you…” the raspy voice said. Every hair on my body stood on end. “…Wanton and waiting on the observation deck.”
Rage narrowed my world. Red. My fingers dug in until the wood splintered.
Someone bent down and ran a hand along the bottom of the chaise, nearly brushing my shoulder.
I caged my rage. Forced my breath steady.
No cover here. No shadows leaned into the dark night.
If I dropped, someone would see me and take me out before I could stand.
The hand vanished, and the chaise rolled forward again. Using the noise as cover, I buckled my sword belt back on. The chaise came to a stop, and a man rushed back the way we had come, without unhitching the horses.
Cayden had described his compound as impregnable… but this was anything but. What the hell was I missing?
My TB glowed faintly, too far out of range to work, but still filled with a stream of unread messages about my home.
I reached for my lover to report. Silence met me—absolute, heavy, wrong.