Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
Ivy
The cart thumps along the uneven country road, jostling me where I’m leaning against one of the walls. The rectangular space feels oddly empty with nothing in it except the four of us passengers while Casimir steers the horses.
But the afternoon air breezes over me with the fresh, tart scents of new growth, speaking of the spring that has almost reached us. It settles my nerves, though just a little.
I’m far too aware of the glass vials tucked into the pouch on my belt. The vials I asked Petra to obtain if she could, that she handed me shortly before we set out.
I have to talk to my men about them and everything else they need to be prepared for. I just haven’t been able to bring myself to yet.
There’s plenty of time still. Hours left in the day.
But with each passing minute, my stomach clenches a bit tighter.
Stavros sits all the way at the back of the cart, craning his neck one way and the other to scan our surroundings for potential threats. I suspect the former general would be happier on horseback, able to control his own movements, but he hasn’t complained.
We want to look as innocuous as possible. Just a simple band of travelers bearing cargo. The magic Tinom impressed into the cart before we left should divert anyone who isn’t specifically looking for us.
Of course, there are quite a few people out there who are specifically looking for us. Or rather, for me.
Just in the past two days as Petra’s growing assembly of allies scrambled to prepare everything we need for the kingship trials, two small delegations sent by nearby counts arrived at the baron’s residence supposedly to “check in” and see how the baron and his people are faring.
From what I heard, they were snooping as much as they could get away with, watching for anything suspicious.
It's annoying that the baron might have been a little right to remove me from the premises, but mostly I’m glad that no one picked up on Petra’s presence there.
There’s been more activity on the lands around our patch of forest as well, packs of riders trotting by at random intervals.
We haven’t ventured out of the forest to greet them, so I have no idea what they’d have said their purpose was, but whenever one of my men mentioned noticing the passersby, my skin crawled.
Pretty much all of Silana hates the riven—far more than they hate the scourge sorcerers they only have the vaguest of ideas about.
Plenty of civilians would have been unnerved by the accusations we made against Lothar but uncertain of what to believe and what to do about it.
Now he’s given them a target for their apprehension that has nothing to do with his Order.
And an opportunity to take action while earning the tyrant’s favor at the same time.
If all goes well, we can end the chaos he’s created tomorrow.
I close my eyes for a few minutes, simply absorbing the spring scents and the rhythmic creak of the wheels. My nerves are too jumpy for me to fully relax.
“Are you sure the message will have gotten to your parents—and they’ll have followed through?” I ask Alek, who’s got his legs sprawled out across from me.
The scholar’s expression turns pensive, but he nods.
“They’ve delivered on every other request Petra’s made.
We indicated that this would be the last one and that she was pleased with their service.
I can’t imagine them letting the opportunity to become the royal weapons suppliers slip through their fingers when it’s almost in their grasp. ”
“Even if that means associating with someone who allies with riven sorcerers?”
He meets my eyes more firmly then. “They’ll only have gotten that news by hearsay—and they’re already committed to Petra. At this point, I’d be incredibly surprised if they did anything other than dismiss it as negative propaganda and focus on what lines their coffers.”
He sounds so certain that a little of the tension in me unwinds. Alek may not get along with his parents, but he does know them. He wouldn’t have set us on this course if he thought there was any chance it’d put me in danger.
Well, more danger than I’m already in, which seems to be a bit much even by typical standards.
Stavros lets out a rough breath. “I’m still not convinced this is the wisest idea. We don’t need to make it easier for our opponents to cut us to pieces.”
“We’re ensuring they won’t be opponents,” Casimir pipes up from the front of the cart. I can’t see his face, but there’s a smile in his voice. “And then they can cut up anyone who does decide to play that role.”
Stavros makes a noncommittal sound. He’s been the most doubtful about the courtesan’s plan since Casimir first suggested it.
I stretch out my foot to give his knee a teasing tap. “It’s not as if we won’t want arms for our confirmed allies to defend the trials. We don’t need to make a final decision until people start gathering and we can gauge their mood.”
The massive man lowers his head in acknowledgment. “Sometimes you can’t know the best strategy until you’re in the thick of the battle.”
I’m not sure I’ll get a better opening.
I hesitate for a few seconds, partly hoping one of the others will add something else. But saying this isn’t going to get any easier.
“There’s something else we should talk about,” I blurt out, and pause to collect myself so my next words come out more calmly.
“Lothar and his followers are going to do whatever they can to tear down Petra tomorrow. You all must realize that there’s a good chance I’ll have to use a lot of magic to ensure we see the trials through. I don’t know how it’ll affect me.”
Casimir reins in the horses and turns on his seat to face the rest of us. A shadow has crossed his face. “What are you saying, Ivy?”
I think he already knows.
Stavros’s expression has hardened with resolve. “We’ll have all our supporters there from every source we could draw from. It won’t come down to you.”
I force myself to meet his gaze, as painful as this conversation is for both of us.
“Not necessarily. But it very well could. I’m the final line of defense, and there’s no reason to assume Lothar won’t manage to push that far.
If it comes to that and I start to lose control, you need to act immediately—whoever’s closest, whoever can do what needs to be done. ”
“Ivy,” Alek starts in a rough voice.
I shake my head before he can fully protest and pull out the vials to show them.
The milky liquid inside gleams in the sun.
“Petra was able to get these for me. It’s a strong sedative.
Put me to sleep if you can manage to safely, to see what can be done for me later.
But if you can’t get the drug into me… I’d rather die than destroy anything we’ve worked for. Please.”
My gaze slides across the faces of the men I love. Stavros has tensed so much he might as well have become a statue. Rheave’s beautiful face has sallowed, his lips pressed together as if against the urge to vomit. Alek is simply staring, and Casimir works his jaw in silence.
“Please,” I say again. “If I’m far enough gone that I can’t restrain myself, ending my life is the kindest thing you could do for me. I’m trusting you not to let me become the sort of riven sorcerer they tell horror stories about.”
Stavros’s throat bobs with a thick swallow, but he nods, his hand on his sword as if echoing his promise. His voice comes out hoarse. “You couldn’t be, Ivy. You’re proving you’re not simply by asking this.”
He leans forward to accept one of the vials.
As Rheave watches it pass between our hands, a shudder ripples through his body.
I catch the daimon-man’s gaze. “I know you don’t want to lose me, but if my magic completely breaks my mind, I’ll already be lost.”
He considers me, his eerie eyes gone solemn. “If there’s any other way, I’ll take it. But I won’t let you become something horrible.”
Alek opens his mouth and closes it again. He presses his hand to his forehead. “I—I don’t want to think about it. I understand that we have to, though. I won’t let you down, Ivy.”
Casimir pushes toward me to hold out his hand. “I might have the best chance of getting the sedative into you, by judging your mood.”
I hand the second vial over and firm my voice. “If you can’t, if I won’t let you—”
He dips his head. “I know. I can do that kindness for you if there’s no other choice.”
Stavros opens his mouth to speak again, but at the same moment, Rheave jerks straighter in the corner where he was lounging. “I hear something. Other horses… coming this way.”
Casimir swivels to grab the reins. We’re just coming up on a low hill—it’s impossible to see what’s on the other side.
As soon as we all fall silent, a faint clopping reaches my ears, getting louder in the several seconds while my pulse hammers at my ribs.
Then a voice lifts, also distant but still audible. “That tree over there looks kind of strange, huh? You think a riven could’ve done that?”
My spine goes rigid.
Casimir’s head whips around, scanning our surroundings. He nudges our horses off the road.
While it’s mostly open fields on our side of the hill, there’s a small patch of trees off to our right. It’s too densely clustered for us to pull the cart between them, but Casimir steers us in that direction.
The grassy terrain partly muffles the hoofbeats of our own animals. Tinom’s enchantment should divert attention from the noise too, at least a little.
I duck low, hoping the riven hunters are deep enough in their conversation that they don’t notice any sound that filters through the spell.
With an intent expression, Rheave picks up the bow he had tipped against the cart wall next to him and fits an arrow into it. I wince inwardly at his obvious intention.