14. Silver
14
S ILVER
|3 DAYS UNTIL THE ASSURANCE|
If I’d known that following Mance would lead directly to a frantic hyena launching itself at my face, I might have reconsidered the decision.
Then again, maybe I wouldn’t have. The second I saw Mance in that makeup, I got a horrible, horrible feeling in my gut. Guerre’s words echoed in my mind. I followed them until they got into the carriage. Then I saw soldiers climbing into additional armored carriages right after they left, and the next thing I knew I was pulling on one of the uniforms Mance stole and hopping in myself.
This is what I get for caring.
I fling the hyena back, making controlled swings with the standard-issue sword that I’m irritated to know how to use. I guess the Academy was good for something after all.
The creature lands on all fours and immediately launches itself into the attack again, caught in some kind of reckless, crazed frenzy. I throw my hands up into a block, but fortunately this time it targets someone else, just past my shoulder. I hear his shriek. Without looking back, I charge away, determined to stay out of the creature’s path.
Which would be easy enough on its own, except that I also have to stay out of every other animal’s path. And they’re everywhere, all in the same hysterical rage as the hyena.
As I sprint forward I see the bear charging past me, swiping soldiers to the ground. The wolf has its head buried in someone’s throat, and even though that someone looks very dead, it’s still ripping the flesh to shreds, its snout coated with slick, slimy blood. Several birds are beating their wings frantically, clawing at soldiers’ soft eyes and screeching like their lives depend on it.
So what exactly is that scum doing to Mance in the carriage?
Adrenaline coursing through me, I push for the back of the melee, dodging felled horses, panicked soldiers, and a never-ending onslaught of unhinged, beastly wrath.
At one point, a horse’s thrashing hooves knock me into another body, and when I reach out to steady the stranger, I realize it’s Prime Azele. The soot on her cheek is streaked and her lip is bleeding. She has one sword drawn and another at her hip. As she takes in the carnage, for a second she looks vulnerable, like this isn’t what she wanted either. But then I see the shadowy crack in the earth that indicates her bodyguard is about to appear and I drop her and keep running before either one of them realizes we’re fighting on opposite sides.
When I reach the carriage, I lean against it, my breath coming in sharp pants. Then I steel myself for what I might see and peer inside.
At first I can’t make sense of it. The Prime is just sitting there, his hand on Mance’s forehead. Everything looks fine and for a desperate moment I wonder if I’ve grossly misread the situation. But then I notice how Mance’s hand is suspended in the air at an odd angle, like she was just beginning to raise it, and the way her eyelids show a sliver of white at the bottom like she was in the middle of flinging them open.
My blood runs cold.
I back up, then charge the carriage, slamming my shoulder into it with as much force as I can muster. It rocks, and the Prime looks up, but his grip holds. I’m not strong enough to knock this thing over. The Prime looks away again.
So I pry a stone out of the ground and chuck it at the side of his head.
The glass window shatters, and the rock hits him above the ear with a sickening thunk. He falls sideways, cursing and letting go of Mance in his scramble to catch himself.
She’s out of the carriage like a shot, gasping and stumbling to her knees. I grab her and haul her up, and when her eyes meet mine, the animals all around us fall to the ground in relief. She throws her arms around my waist and I wrap mine around her, too, as the din of the fight is replaced by a sudden, heavy quiet.
As soldiers on both sides reel back in bewilderment, Azele takes advantage of the break in the onslaught to sound the retreat. Men and women alike turn tail to run, grabbing for any horses that can still take riders, no matter what side they started on. Soon the ground rumbles with the thunderous sound of their flight.
“You came,” Mance rasps into my shoulder. Then she pulls her head back and gives me this look of pure awe that cuts right to my heart. But it’s gone in the next second as her eyes snap to the carriage. “We have to get out of here.”
“Nah, I thought I’d stick around for a while,” I say. “Seems like a fun party.”
She groans but whether that’s because she’s in pain or because of my attempt at humor, I can’t be sure.
The door to the carriage slams open, and the Prime emerges, walking down the small set of steps like he’s descending a grand staircase.
“You did well,” he tells Mance. Then his gaze darts to my arms still around her waist and he narrows his eyes.
Her head whips around, and creatures everywhere perk their ears, slowly getting to their feet as her attention focuses on him. My skin prickles and even the Prime looks a little unnerved with so many hateful eyes latching onto him.
“You monster ,” she spits. “I should have my creatures rip you apart right now. I promise you I have the rage for it.”
The Prime takes one step back up the carriage rungs, frowning. “Seize her!” he cries at the soldiers.
“Don’t you dare !” she screams, with such force and authority that many of the soldiers stumble to a stop in confusion. Even I almost flinch. Before they regain their bearings and decide their loyalty, Mance’s animals rise up as one and begin to run.
This time I really do flinch, because it’s a stampede like I’ve never seen, completely uncoordinated, fueled by nothing more than the desire to be anywhere but here. Some creatures sprint through the grass, others plunge into the edge of the forest, and still more scramble back up the cliffside.
In the pandemonium, Mance manages to grab her stallion by the mane and launch herself onto its back. Then she turns him around and gallops back to me, hand outstretched, hair streaming behind her.
I am not at all sure what I did to make her think I have the skill set to jump onto the back of an enraged runaway horse. But I don’t have a ton of other options, so after a desperate look around, I brace myself, run straight toward her, and hope for the best.
When I’m about at the horse’s neck, I grab its mane with one hand, her arm with the other, and jump. She grips the beast with her thighs to anchor herself and tries to swing me behind her, but our limbs get tangled up and I hit the horse wrong, causing it to stumble. The ground rushes by way too fast, mere inches below my dangling feet.
By this point, a few of the soldiers have regained their composure and are bearing down on us, the Prime screaming at them to stop us at any cost. They reach for us. Their expressions are set. Drawn weapons are held aloft.
But then I pitch my leg over the horse’s haunches and Mance digs her heels into its sides and we’re shooting away, wind whipping in our faces, the horse straining below us, and my hands latched onto Mance’s hips.
The soldiers, the broken battlefield, and the Prime’s outcry all fall away behind us, drowned out by the steady thump of hooves in the grass.
She steers us toward the forest, and when we hit the foliage I have to bury my face in her shoulder to keep from getting smacked in the head with a branch. Even so, twigs scrape my skin and snag on my hair and clothing. She’s not sticking to any path.
I press closer to her and say nothing, letting her guide us wherever she wants to go, trying not to think about the fact that the Prime definitely saw my face, and, given the context, will almost certainly remember it. It seems likely that if he sees me again, he’ll kill me. I’ll be another smashed-up body at the bottom of the cliffs.
But I’ll worry about that later.
Right now the main priority is not falling off this horse.
After what feels like miles, the heavy clop of hooves on dirt turns to splashing, and Mance yanks the horse’s mane to bring it to a stop.
I have enough time to notice that sweat flecks its hide and its mouth is foaming before Mance slumps sideways. Given how intertwined we are, I go down with her, and we both careen headfirst into murky, lukewarm water.
I come up spluttering and gagging. She comes up like a water nymph, flipping her dark hair to make an arc of droplets that catch the sunlight.
We stand there for a second, soaked, breathing. Around us, the forest is still.
Then she dives under again.
“Mance?”
This time when she resurfaces, she’s rubbing her face furiously with both hands, and I realize she’s trying to get the makeup off. It’s weird, but I actually forgot she had it on. I used to be so intimidated by the way she looked with those bold lines and darkened eyes, but now I just see… her. A girl clawing at her own face until it’s a streaky, soppy mess.
“Here,” I say. “Let me.”
I take off my coat, with its glass buttons and shard-covered shoulder pads, and hold the softer inside lining against her cheek, wiping gently until most of the paint is gone. Then I drop the cloak in the water and ease away the rest with my fingers as she blinks up at me, midnight eyes searching.
Compared to the chaotic battle and the desperate escape on horseback, this moment feels so small. But there’s something that passes over her eyes as she looks at me that doesn’t feel small at all, like a single candle lit in the darkest part of the night, and my heart clenches.
A part of me, a large part of me, wants to lean in to that light. But there’s also a not insignificant part of me that wants to blow it out and run. I don’t know that I can be trusted to handle a light like this. I might get burned. Better to blow it out now, gently, than to let it get that far.
But even as I think those things, I don’t drop my hands from her face. I keep smoothing my thumbs over the curves of her cheekbones. And her candlelit eyes stay fixed on mine.
“Do you, uh… want to talk about it?” I ask when the last smudge has finally been smoothed away.
She swallows, causing a rivulet of water to skate down her throat. “On the boat,” she says.
“The…?”
For the first time, I pull my eyes away from her face long enough to look around.
The lake we’re in, if you can call it that, is tiny. More like an oversized puddle. And in the middle of it is a massive, greenery-covered boat. From hull to mast, every inch is coated with ivy, moss, and tiny flowers. In the middle of the deck, intrepid trees are poking through former portholes and winding around the crow’s nest.
While I’m taking it in, Mance slips out of my hands and starts climbing, pulling on vines and rusty metal to haul herself to the top.
I flex my hands self-consciously, watching her. Then I splash some water on my face, shake my head, and wade after her.
The climb is easy going, with plenty of notches and roots to hold on to. It’s almost comforting, doing something that feels so familiar. I start to relax, tension falling off me like the water that pours off my clothing.
Until my finger hits a metal band on the hull of the ship, and I have the fleeting thought that it reminds me of the stripe of metal on the hilt of the Victory’s Herald.
And suddenly my limbs lock into place.
Because now that things have calmed down, my mind reminds me of a detail that I didn’t examine carefully in the heat of the battle.
When I crashed into Prime Azele, she had two swords. One in her hand, and one at her hip. The former was clearly a practical, well-used blade, but the one at her hip looked ceremonial.
And it had that same band of metal on its hilt that the Victory’s Herald did.
Not a similar one, but the exact same band.
On the exact same sword.
My fingers dig into the splintering wood, and I hiss, because I don’t know what that means.
Or maybe I do, and I just don’t want to think about it.
I look up, and Mance is waiting for me, her expression soft and affectionate. That warm, inviting candlelight still burning in her midnight eyes.
I wish I could erase the last few seconds from my mind and go back to believing I deserve the way she’s looking at me.
But I was wrong to think I did.
She’s only looking at me like that because she thinks I saved her, when in reality I’m the one who instigated that battle in the first place. My actions put her there. I caused the very hurt that I just soothed.
And now, no matter how much that little candle in her eyes lights up my chest, I need to snuff it out.
If I don’t end this now, it will only get worse.
With gritted teeth, I put my head down and keep climbing.