Chapter 17
Seventeen
Ivy
Stavros paces in front of the tent. “I can’t simply sit here while the rest of you do all the work.”
“You’re not sitting,” I point out helpfully. “And I’m sure we’ll find plenty to keep you busy once we know what we’re doing. But when we’re simply going into the town to wander around and get the lay of the land, you’d stick out like a sore thumb. You’re too recognizable.”
Stavros growls, but he knows I’m right. It’s doubtful that the conspirators know or care that the king wants our heads on a platter… which actually works against us with them.
If anyone from the Order of the Wild recognizes one of his former top generals, they’ll assume Stavros is here under King Konram’s orders, to stop them.
Alek touches my arm where he’s come up beside me. “Just be careful. We don’t know what exactly to expect here in Nikodi.”
He’s hanging back at our campsite too, for similar reasons. If any word has gotten around about the supposed traitors harboring a riven sorcerer, showing his scars or his mask will make him easy to identify.
We’re only going on a scouting mission, after all. The point is to blend in and gather information, not to make any big moves.
I give Alek a quick kiss. “We should be fine. There’s no reason for anyone to find us suspicious. And this is Julita’s home territory—we have her to guide us too.”
My ghostly passenger pipes up from the back of my head. That’s right. I’ll keep you on the right track.
Her attempt at a perky tone doesn’t entirely work. Apprehension winds through it.
We’re heading to her family’s estate first. We have no idea what we’ll find there, but I’ve gathered that she finds it hard to believe that her parents would have been won over by the Order of the Wild.
Which means the scourge sorcerers have likely taken over by force.
I offer Stavros a kiss for good measure, which he accepts with another disgruntled growl but plenty of heat in return. When I draw back, he studies Casimir and Rheave for a second, with less hesitation than he used to show the daimon-man.
Casimir picks up on the worry he’s not expressing. “We’ll make sure Ivy comes back in one piece.”
Rheave draws his well-muscled form up straighter. “No one will get past us to harm her.”
“Hey, I might be the one who ends up defending the two of you,” I retort lightly.
A shadow crosses Stavros’s expression before he seems to will it away. He keeps his tone even. “Better not to turn to your magic unless you have to, while you’re still getting the hang of balancing the effects.”
I smile even though my stomach knots at his cautioning. “Agreed.” I pat my pocket where I’ve stashed my enchanted locket. “Signal us if any trouble finds you.”
Stavros nods and turns to Alek. “I suppose we should keep working on those knife skills of yours. I’ll whip you into shape eventually.”
Alek groans, but he gets out his dagger without further protest.
I wink at him. “Draw a little blood for me.”
As Stavros snorts in amusement, I haul myself onto Toast’s back. Casimir, Rheave, and I set off at a trot.
The ride to bring us within sight of the county of Nikodi’s seat of authority takes about two hours. We pass it in silence and brief moments of hushed conversation, scanning the countryside as we go.
With each passing mile, my gut twists tighter.
We don’t really know what to expect up ahead.
I’ve spent years picking up information from the streets of Florian, making my way through both the grittiest and poshest neighborhoods without drawing attention, but I’ve never had to navigate a violent uprising before.
I’ve got much more practice at subterfuge than any of my men, though. I have to keep them safe—both here and on a broader scale.
If we can’t find a way to clear our names and prove ourselves to King Konram, they’ll spend the rest of their lives like I’ve spent most of mine, just a couple of steps shy of the gallows. All because they’ve stood by me.
Julita alerts me to our arrival with a strained noise. There’s the house. You can see the roof over the top of that rise.
I slow Toast to a walk and peer into the distance. She’s right—just over the top of the rolling fields ahead of us, I make out a few peaks of a tiled roof.
“That’s your family’s manor house?” I ask her in a low voice.
Yes. I suppose we should approach more cautiously from here. Once you reach the top of the next slope, you’ll be able to see the whole estate and the city of Pima to the left.
I pass her suggestion on to the men and dismount. We leave the horses grazing lower down the rise and sneak to the higher ground on foot.
As soon as the house below comes into clearer view, I drop lower to the ground, setting my gloved hands in the frosty grass. The men follow suit. Our breaths puff out of us like smoke in the chilly winter air.
The building Julita grew up in is much broader and more sprawling than the noble homes I’m familiar with from Florian. Which makes sense, given that the nobles in the capital are restrained by being packed together in the city’s inner wards.
The house below me looks as if it might have started as something more compact.
The central structure around the main doors is symmetrical enough, looming three stories to a stout tower.
But over the centuries various counts and countesses built the sides and back out with additional rooms until it became a bit of a mishmash of stone-block forms.
Julita lets out a ragged sigh without adding any words. It’s been months since she was last home.
Now she’ll never really be able to enter that building again, not as herself at least. I can’t imagine how that feels.
I might have left my own family home, but there was nothing for me there anymore. And I could return if I really wanted to.
Julita lost the choice.
My gaze veers to the stretch of smaller rooftops to the left. A handful of tall structures—a few temples, what might be the city’s main hall—jut up amid single and two-story buildings.
Compared to Florian, it’s hard to call that habitation a city. It can’t be more than a tenth of the size of the capital.
Julita did tell me once that all of Nikodi had maybe a quarter of the citizens Florian can boast.
Casimir makes a soft sound in his throat that draws my attention. I jerk my gaze back to the estate.
A couple of men have emerged from the orchard around the back of the property and are walking next to the low wall that surrounds the grounds. As I watch, another figure—a woman dressed in a simple jacket and trousers under her cloak like the men—walks out of the house toward the front gate.
They don’t look like nobles even of Julita’s backwater level. But they move with a menacing assurance I’m not used to seeing from household staff.
We usually only had one man on watch, Julita murmurs. And he’d have been wearing a proper uniform. The nervousness in her voice has grown.
I glance toward my companions. “Julita says her estate normally wouldn’t have had so many people patrolling. Those could be people associated with the Order of the Wild.”
Rheave is staring intently at the figures. His expression darkens with a frown. “They’re all daimon.”
Even though I was already assuming they weren’t regular staff, my stomach drops. “All three of them?”
He gives a subtle nod. “In the conjured bodies.”
Julita’s presence shivers in the back of my head. The scourge sorcerers have taken over my home.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say in the quieter tone I use so the men know I’m talking to her rather than them.
Then I raise my voice slightly to include Casimir and Rheave as well.
“They could have her parents and members of the actual staff imprisoned inside, under watch. Or have driven them out. Or there’s a chance the household is collaborating, whether truly willingly or only under duress. ”
Casimir is frowning too. “I suppose we can hardly go over and ask.”
Julita sucks in a breath. I hope they’re all right. We might not have seen eye to eye on everything, but… they tried. They gave me opportunities even though Borys was the main heir.
She was hoping to inherit the estate as countess at some point after she finished her education at the college. With her older brother going missing a few years back and presumed dead, it should have been possible.
But now the scourge sorcerers have upended not just her life but the rest of her family’s as well.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say again. “What do you think we should do now?”
She pauses for a moment in thought. It seems unwise to approach the estate. We’d draw too much attention and likely not get any answers regardless. Let’s go into Pima and see what’s happening in the city.
I pass on the idea to the men, and we creep back to our horses. As we turn them toward the road into the city, an air of gloom has descended over even Casimir’s gorgeous face.
We have a story prepared, but none of the people who observe us riding into the city bother to stop us, let alone demand to know why we’re there. Rheave murmurs that a few of those hanging around at the outskirts are daimon.
I guess that others keeping watch are human members of the Order of the Wild. Either scourge sorcerers or ordinary civilians who’ve become wrapped up in their claims of restoring Silana to its former glory.
Merchants are still coming into the city with wagons of goods; shops and eateries are open; pedestrians circulate on the streets. But a thread of tension winds through the atmosphere, as if everyone is periodically looking over their shoulder to check for threats.
I know the impression isn’t just in my head when Julita comments on it too. It feels like life as usual… but not quite. Everyone’s just a bit keyed up.
Nikodi sits at the northern end of Eppun province, its farthest border rubbing shoulders with Bryfeen, so I doubt there’ve been any direct clashes with the royal army here. But obviously the effects of the revolt have rippled through the county.