34. Diar #2
"If you flirt with me on our trip, I'll cut your head off."
"I take it back. It's absolutely not romantic," Ferris quickly amended. "That one over there's a bit shorter. His armor should fit you."
"And you think they'll just let us walk out?"
"That's the plan."
"One more thing," I said. "My sword—I need it to cast."
A victorious smirk spread across his lips. "Oh, don't you worry about that. I had a feeling you might need it. I sent my spirit back to fetch it while we rode out of the city. It's hidden in a snow pile, outside the walls."
I stared at him in surprise. "Fine. Maybe you are useful."
Ferris opened his mouth to say something—to flirt, probably. He bit his tongue and looked away.
Maybe he'd keep his head a little while longer.
"Oh, and Diar?" He pulled the stolen helm over his eyes. "You're welcome."
I did not want to leave home without my horse. Sneaking back to the manor would be reckless and lead to our capture. With a heavy heart, I resigned myself to leaving Arrow behind.
Once we'd escaped the dungeons, Ferris had shoved a hooded cloak over my head and made me pretend to be a healer. He remained covered in Tsuyan armor, the simple chainmail and deep blue tabard of the guard.
It seemed a needless ruse. The city was occupied with everything else—death, injuries, destruction. An air of jubilation mingled with horror. They'd survived the night, but what did such an unprecedented assault portend?
I glanced behind me as we headed for the quiet, western gate. Father had underestimated us both.
For Ferris' part, I couldn't blame my father. The prince had hidden his magic and catalyst well. Not even King Ailithir knew about it.
As for me . . . even now, my father thought me useless. Incapable.
We'd meet again if the Archdruid approved me.
What would I say to him, then? For the first time in my life, I'd face my father as someone he could not touch.
The western gates were paltry compared to Tsuyan's other entrances. A gate barely wide enough to fit a wagon led out to a thin road that weaved through dense forest and rolling hills. Two guards stood on the ramparts, eyes to the wilderness. One clutched his long bow with quivering hands.
Ferris shifted behind me, pressing a hand to my back as he hurried me through the gates.
For a moment, I thought we'd made it.
"Hey," one of the guards called. "Where are you two going?"
Ferris froze and slowly turned. I expected him to come up with some extravagant lie.
Swirling winds tore through my hair as the emerald dragon erupted from thin air. Ferris flicked his wrist. A sharp crack of thunder boomed beside my ears, and I pressed my hands to them, wincing in pain.
The force of the thunder slammed into the walls, rattling the stone and throwing the guards off their platform. I heard them shriek in surprise as they fell.
"Time to go.” Ferris grabbed my wrist and hauled me down the road.
"Why did you do that?" I hissed.
"You're one to talk! You punch first and ask questions later." He shot me a wicked grin. "I'm a rebel, remember?"
I was going to kill him the moment I didn't need him anymore.
We dove into the woods, casting nervous glances behind us. Ferris shed his armor as we ran, tossing the helm, then the shin guards, then the gauntlets. A trail of steel led down the road.
But not to us. When the last piece struck the snow, we diverted into the woods. Ferris led me toward the hill where I'd fought Quinn and killed two of his companions.
He hardly seemed out of breath when we arrived. "Here.” He tapped a thick mound of snow with his boot.
I felt it—the pull of my catalyst. Kneeling beside it, I brushed the snow aside, revealing the blade hidden underneath. Sighing with relief, I drew the blade and turned it over before returning it to my belt.
I would not lose it again.
Ferris nudged me, nodding toward the glade where the rebels had hidden.
A horse wandered on its outskirts, stout and fluffy.
Arrow.
Racing down the hill, I kicked up a trail of snow behind me. Arrow turned and snorted, trotting to meet me halfway.
I buried my face into his neck. We'd left him by the southern gates—Father must not have collected him. The poor boy had come looking for me.
Ferris caught up and stared at me intently. I tried to read his expression, to no avail.
Gods. I really needed someone to teach me how to do that.
"So you are soft, somewhere in there," Ferris said. "For the horse, at least." He glanced at my belt. "And the sword."
"The sword is useful. Well-crafted. And it wouldn't betray me."
"Are you saying I'm not well-crafted? Because I disagree," Ferris said. "And that's not flirting, by the way."
"Hm," I agreed, reluctantly.
"But, we have a mount now. That makes things easier."
"For me," I said, climbing onto Arrow's back. "You can walk."
"You're joking, right?" He chuckled. When I tapped my heels into Arrow's flank and started trotting away, his smile vanished. "Diar, we're supposed to be partners. Even if it's a tepid alliance—”
"We have no supplies,” I interrupted. "Know of a good place to steal some?"
"You'd steal from these war-torn people?" He tsked, catching up to me. "I know just the place. It isn't far."
"Lead the way."
"Only if you let me up."
I kept trotting, tempted to leave him behind and find my own path.
But I would get lost, and this time, I wasn't wandering without a destination.
Sighing, I pulled Arrow to a stop and let Ferris climb onto the saddle.
He made a point of leaning away from me.
"So she can be reasonable after all," Ferris grumbled. He pointed toward the northwest. "That way."
Turning Arrow toward his pointing finger, I ordered him into a trot again. "You're lucky Muirashin horses are hardy."
"Make excuses all you want. I think you have a soft spot for me."
Twisting my neck, I glared at him. He smiled innocently.
"As a friend, obviously."
Making a noise of disgust, I turned away. Of all the people I had to work with—why did it have to be him?
Pretending he wasn't sitting behind me, I tried to envision how my meeting with the Archdruid would go.
How could I guess? I'd never met the man.
But I would not relinquish Siotha. She had fallen into my hands the day I'd found my purpose. If Solathair existed, then this must be his will, even if his priests claimed otherwise.
Maybe they'd change their tune when I brought them the head of their Emperor's murderer.