Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Lips twitching at my disgruntled expression, she reaches over for the reins, slowing both mounts and patting the back of her saddle. “Here, you’re better off behind me.”
But before I can shift over to Ani’s horse, the sound of some command being given reaches my ears, and the king splits off from the lead to gallop back to us.
I only belatedly register being scooped up and deposited onto another mount.
The king’s mount. The siblings share a look before I’m plastered back against an armored chest with a gasp.
“She rides with me.”
The dominant rasp makes the hairs on my nape rise. Ani says nothing, though her eyebrows raise at the overt display of whatever this is, but then she urges her horse into motion to join the contingent of guards ahead.
One of Darrius’s arms bands about my waist, and I swallow.
“I can manage on my own, you know,” I say primly.
“Can you?” he replies, his warm breath skating over my ear. “I don’t need you falling and snapping your pretty neck.”
I tilt my chin up, catching sight of his sharp jaw and very grim mouth. I look away as my pulse doubles, his scent surrounding me. “As opposed to you having the honor?”
“Exactly. The pleasure of your death is mine and mine alone.”
I blink. Was the king being . . . witty? And why does his husky tone sound like he’s not talking about death at all? I suppress a shiver.
The horse speeds to a gallop, and I brace myself to flop around as I’d been doing so ungracefully before, but between his mastery of the enormous stallion, his firm grasp around me, and his own fluid gait, it’s like night and day.
My hips and bottom are plastered to him, and while his armor keeps us from actually touching, that doesn’t stop my brain from venturing into places it shouldn’t.
His gloved thumb skates over my mail-covered ribs, dangerously close to the underside of my breast, and I suck in a breath, torn between wanting him to go higher and throwing myself bodily off the horse. “What’s the matter?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I choke out. “What will happen to my mare?”
He pauses as if he knows I’m deflecting. “She’ll find her way back. One of the grooms will retrieve her. Is that what you’re thinking about?”
When I don’t answer immediately, his arm tightens slightly, that maddening thumb stroking my oversensitive skin in a much-too-distracting manner.
I clear my dry throat. “Ani mentioned the Aspa?anā clans. Will they be there?”
His thumbs stills. “Yes. We are going to the edge of Shabra territory, which means the current raissa will be there, and the rais of Chamros likely won’t be far behind.”
“Ani said they might know a way to help with my cuffs.” I shift around, trying to get comfortable and failing. He’s so hard it’s like sitting on a slab of unyielding granite.
“Did she?” he says, his voice like gravel. “Stop wriggling.”
“Are they dangerous?” I ask, muscles locking up in an attempt to stay still.
Something cool glides over me in an inky blanket, practically gluing me to him, and though I can’t see them, I know they’re his shadows.
They’re meant to be comforting, but when I feel one snaking across my bare skin over my collar to wrap around my throat, my breath fizzles even as heat tracks like wildfire through me.
“I won’t let anything happen to you. They know you’re mine.” The stark possessiveness in the last sentence should aggravate me because I belong to no one but myself—but it only makes me feel stupidly warm. This ride must truly be knocking my good sense out of me.
The tendril caresses my jaw and feathers over my bottom lip.
His breathing quickens behind me. I wish I could see his face, but it’s impossible at the speed at which we’re charging forward.
I don’t want him to stop whatever this is, though sometimes it seems as though his magic has a mind of its own.
When the silken tip eases inside my mouth, I nearly combust. “Darrius.”
“Weapons!” Shouts up ahead followed by screaming have me jolting out of my lust stupor.
Gods! We’re here already!
The king pulls up alongside his sister, who has halted near a small copse of trees, and deposits me unceremoniously in front of Ani. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“I can help!” I protest. “I can fight, remember?”
Stony, obsidian eyes meet mine. “No. The creature is sickened, and I need you out of its line of sight for your own safety. One glimpse and you’re dead. Stay here.” That stare softens slightly when he directs it to his sister. “Keep her out of harm’s way, please. By magical force, if you have to.”
“I will,” Ani says as I splutter in outrage.
I struggle against Ani’s unexpectedly strong grip, but her hold is relentless.
I glance down, but her arms aren’t even around me, and yet, I cannot move.
Stars, is she actually using her magic to restrain me?
I push forward, and the loose scale mail of my vest tightens against my chest. Of course, she’s a ferrokinetic who controls metal.
The clash of steel echoes up to us, and the despondent cries of the soldiers.
I lose sight of the king in the chaos of the battle unfolding, a mix of men on foot and those riding, the horses kicking up dust amid the waving grass.
But then I see him again, wielding that huge onyx sword of his with unfailing precision.
Sands, his eyes are closed, and yet he moves with such confidence.
His shadows must be guiding him, I realize.
Curious, I study the first Aspa?anā horde I’ve seen in person.
They have to be Shabra, considering we’re on their territory.
Ani had said their power was earth-based.
That makes sense with the rising dust cloud and rumbling earthquakes.
Even from a distance, they’re huge and their horses even bigger.
Covered in brown-plumed helms and scratched bronze armor, a dozen of them form a loose circle where Darrius disappeared over the knoll, their battle-axes and enormous bows at the ready.
The basilisk roars and rears up as Darrius continues to wound it, using strikes of magic in tandem with his blade.
Huge ice spikes pin its tail even as flames surround its torso.
His kingsguard lose no time in protecting his flanks while launching their own magical blows.
It seems for a moment like they have the upper hand until a burst of venom sprays from the serpent’s mouth, taking out nearly a dozen men when their armor and flesh starts to dissolve.
“Can you see what’s happening?” I ask, heart pounding when Darrius disappears from view.
Ani squints. “No. Don’t worry. My brother’s magic is powerful. It won’t be long.”
“I’m not worried about him,” I lie, and hear Ani scoff from behind me. Glad to know that I’m so transparent.
Another fierce horde on horses arrives from the south, kicking up a cloud of dirt behind them.
The plumes of their helms are bone white, and their armor glints silver.
Their horses seem leaner than the ones from Shabra, though they’re just as menacing.
As one, I see them rise up and loosen arrows from their bows toward the center of the battle, causing a magical cyclone to whip the basilisk into the air for a second.
“Guard your eyes!” someone roars, but the warning must come too late as three warriors topple from their horses, struck dead by accidentally meeting the lethal stare of the monster.
“Gods,” Ani mutters. “Chamros. Their rais, Azes, is an arrogant prick.”
“Let’s get closer,” I say, adrenaline humming through my veins.
“No, we stay here, out of sight. It’s too dangerous.”
I still can’t locate Darrius. Did the venom get him?
I might not have offensive magic, but I know my blood can heal.
It had healed Razulek. And I need the king alive to get me back to Oryndhr.
That’s what I tell myself anyway. That’s the only reason I care.
And besides, my dagger has magic—the runes and jādū smelted onto the blade mean I won’t be completely vulnerable.
“Well, at least let me up so I can see then,” I say.
Her magic relents, and I’m able to push myself up to balance precariously on the saddle.
It doesn’t help—I’m much too short for it to make much of a difference—but her horse decides at that moment to rear.
With a screech, we both go tumbling to the ground.
I brace for impact, taking the fall on my back and rolling out of the way of the horse’s hooves.
My magic assuages the bruised area immediately, and then I am up and running before I can think twice.
“Sura! Wait!”
Just in case she decides to reel me back in with her magic, I throw off the metal vest and keep running.
Admittedly, getting rid of my protective armor isn’t the best course, but that’s a problem for future me, because current me clearly didn’t anticipate a giant serpentine body tumbling from the sky in my direction.
I whirl to evade it, but it’s much too late.
I lift my dagger and send out a desperate plea to the goddess of time or the wind gods, only to feel nothing as everything goes preternaturally still.
The wind, the sounds of battle . . . the world halts.
And then restarts.
Holy shooting stars, did time just stop?
Thank Zora! And the twins of wind, Vara and Vati!
Shadows writhe around me as the body of the king coalesces between the beast and me.
His magic is terrifying to behold as it surrounds the creature in a maelstrom of onyx flames.
The basilisk screams, its rooster-like features and feathered plumage melting into its multihued gray and green scales.
Gods, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful and so devastatingly macabre in my life.
Look away, Suraya! the king roars in my head.
But I’m utterly frozen as a jeweled, kaleidoscopic stare wreathed in violet flames slams into my eyes.
In a single heartbeat, I face death. I can taste it on my tongue: the vicissitude of the grave.
The emptiness of the void reaches for my soul to pluck it like a flower as Ris croons his welcome in the space where time ends.
Magic rears up inside of me in a tsunami of rage, my cuffs glowing in instant response.
But nothing—not even the dark power suppressing me—can hold the tide back.
My simurgh screams, the edges of my skin glowing with power as my runes ignite, rolling over my skin in an undulating wave.
My magic becomes a mirror, a shimmering surface.
In my mind’s eye I see the basilisk catch sight of itself and give a massive shudder.
It feels like peace . . . like relief. Thank you, Starkeeper.
The whisper comes on the wind like a measure of song.
Otherworldly power yields to my simurgh, who tilts her head in regal salutation as the basilisk curls into itself and exhales a death rattle.
May Ris bless you in the next life, she tells it.
Those purple flames in its eyes dim as it dies with a sigh.
The glow of my runes fades as my magic is absorbed back into my body, and Darrius’s unreadable face comes into view.
I can see him fighting for calm, sensing how close his manticore is to the surface.
Is it because I was in danger? Lines of tension gather around his gold-sheened eyes and flattened mouth, as we’re interrupted by a slew of cheers and hollers.
Ani rides up, but the irritation in her eyes tells me I’ll get an earful from her later.
A handsome and very large tattooed man with red hair and pale skin descends a horse and walks toward us.
He stops briefly to greet Ani, and their exchange is quick before he halts in front of me.
His tattoos are of animals in battle and strange alchemical symbols, and gold torcs at his collarbones are inlaid with turquoise gems. His curved pickax is wet with blood as he arrogantly studies me from head to toe.
“I am Rais Azes. You will come to Chamros.”
I stare back at him, refusing to be intimidated by him or his demands. “Are you telling me or asking me?”
Blue eyes gleam with interest as he reaches for my hand. “Your Starkeeper magic is needed to save our herds from the rot.”
Frowning, I step backward, out of his reach, but it doesn’t deter him as he presses forward.
A second horde warrior, this one female with similar tattoos and thick blond hair that glows against her light skin, approaches on horseback and leaps off her horse before it comes to a full stop.
Like the man, she’s tall and splattered in blood, and scrutinizes me with curiosity.
“I am Raissa Karan?. He’s right. You must help us—” She reaches out toward me, and I flinch, my simurgh swelling with aggression beneath my skin. In warning?
“Don’t touch her.” The growl comes from the king, who looks like he’s going to go on a slaughtering spree. He glowers at both Aspa?anā horde leaders with the terror of death in his pitch-black eyes.
The beautiful raissa doesn’t bend, only stiffens and then smiles. “Then I invoke the Gauntlet of Mithral and exhibition tournament to honor the esteemed Starkeeper on our lands.”
“A wonderful idea,” Azes exclaims immediately.
My stomach swirls with confusion. I glance over at Ani, considering she knows so much about the clans and their cultural traditions, but her expression is blank.
What is this Gauntlet? I only know that Mithral is the god of the sun and spiritual fire.
Perhaps this is some celebratory custom?
I wait for Darrius’s reply, but before the king can speak, a shout goes up.
A rider races toward us, an unconscious body draped across the saddle in front of him. He dismounts, and I catch sight of spiky green hair before her beloved face comes into view. I slump to my knees in complete and utter shock. Sands on fire, it can’t be.
But it is . . .
Laleh.