The Chains Undone (The Battleboxer Trilogy #2)

1. Return to Kirinoll

Chapter one

Return to Kirinoll

Two horses swept through the mist and into the outskirts of Orsha. A damp, stiff wind tugged at the cloaks of their hunched riders. Rerdas Toriem leaned forward in the saddle, straining to see in the night.

He and his companion had encountered no one since crossing the border back into Inofar.

It didn’t stop him from tensing in his stirrups at every wind-rippled shadow, as though Queen Kuraya herself lurked in the ditches beside the road.

Their mounts had spirit still for a long journey, but if they tried a nighttime ride through the Eastern felds, the horses would be tested.

Ahead of him, Imalroc clumsily halted his horse. Rerdas drew alongside and saw what had stopped him. Dread flowered like rot in his throat.

Beneath the looming buildings and bridges, small flames burned holes in the cloaking darkness.

More lights appeared, clustering far down the road.

He couldn’t make out who accompanied the lights, but there was only one group who could move through Orsha with torches and lanterns ablaze at this time of night.

“We have to get off the main road,” Rerdas murmured. “I’d bet my weight in onyx that the Guard is out ahead.”

“The back roads will be no safer,” Imalroc replied. He sounded so gods-be-damned calm.

Rerdas tried to be equally unshakeable. “If we go far enough into the fields, we might be able to keep riding.” It was a ridiculous proposition, enough to make him wince as soon as it was out of his mouth.

Two riders charging through farmlands in the dead of night would draw more attention than if they were on the roads.

And if anyone stopped them, word might get back to the queen.

There was a long, uncertain silence, broken only by the horses shifting their weight.

“Do you want to risk it?” Imalroc asked eventually.

Rerdas eyed the dots of flame puncturing the night and drawing closer. He wanted to be home so badly. His family needed him. The damage he’d unknowingly caused his beloved aunt—the need to return, to fix everything, swarmed beneath his skin.

They could try to get past the Guard. But if they failed…

“No.” He forced it out. “We need somewhere to stay until dawn. It’s not long from now, and we’re less likely to be stopped in daylight.”

“We passed the inn near where we left the caravan before crossing into Draal. Maybe there?” Imalroc ventured.

Rerdas nodded and, with one last glance at the long road, turned his horse back the way they had come.

The bleary-eyed man who served as the night watch at the inn was not pleased to see them. He peered through a slot in the courtyard gate, scrubbing at his eyes.

“Do you have a stable here?” Rerdas kept his voice pitched low.

“Eh?”

“A stable? Our horses need a rest.”

The night watch frowned. “What are you riding about in the night for?”

Rerdas threw his shoulders back and lifted his chin. “Do you or do you not have a stable?” he snapped, in his best imitation of Princess Hassindra.

The man’s lip curled, and he opened his mouth, but whatever he planned to retaliate with stalled when Rerdas lifted a hand with two onyx bars glittering between his fingers. A moment later the tall gate swung open, and they hurried inside with the horses.

“It might be a moment ‘afore I can get you to your rooms, Master.” The watch led them around the main building to the stables. “I’ll have to wake one of the maids.”

“Unnecessary. The respite is for the horses. We will stay in the stable for a short while and be on our way,” Rerdas said.

“What? You mean to—”

“Thank you for your assistance.” Rerdas dropped the onyx into the man’s palm and jerked his head at Imalroc, who gingerly led both horses toward the stable door. Rerdas spun away from the bewildered watch and caught up to take his mount gently by the bridle.

“Walk them first. They need a bit of cooling.” He led the horse in slow loops around the courtyard, Imalroc trailing. Watching the battleboxer keep a suspicious eye on the animal ambling beside him almost made Rerdas smile. Of the two of them, the horse was clearly better-tempered.

But that made him think of Hastings, his loyal, big-hearted gelding, and he was pummeled again with thoughts of home.

Etiana would have given Aunt Uralta another dose of the poisoned tea tonight, executing the queen’s plan without ever realizing it, all while he circled desolate cobblestones in a soggy, miserable town, too far away to stop it from happening.

He would find his way back. She would survive. He wouldn’t let any more of his family leave him behind.

When the horses were ready, Rerdas guided them into the stable and pulled the door shut on thick, warm darkness. The familiar smell of straw and leather and animals greeted him. At least it smelled relatively clean, as stables went.

“We need a lantern,” Imalroc muttered from somewhere in the dark.

“We need to unsaddle the horses.”

“How are we supposed to unsaddle them if we can’t see anything?”

“I can manage.” Rerdas stretched out a hand and moved forward until his fingertips brushed the damp flank of one of the animals.

He ran his hand down to the girth and unbuckled the straps with ease born of practice, hefting the saddle up off the horse’s back and dropping it near a wall.

The bridles were trickier, but he worked slowly, murmuring reassurance to the horses.

When he had all the tack piled on a nearby bale, the horses shifted past him.

He kept one hand pressed to the nearest one and let it guide him to an empty trough.

It took him some time to find the mechanism he knew was there somewhere and splash water into the trough to let them drink. Just a little at a time. It would be another stretch before he could feed them.

Rerdas followed the wall away from the horses and turned uncertainly, listening. Imalroc was unnervingly quiet.

“Where are you?” Rerdas stretched out his hand.

“Sitting on a block of straw. I think.” Imalroc’s voice came from a few steps away. Rerdas shuffled toward it until his shins collided with something wooden.

“Ouch. I think I—” He sidestepped onto a lump.

“That’s my foot,” Imalroc said.

“Sorry, sorry. I just—Eternals!” He lost his balance and pitched forward, but before he could crash into a wall, steady, strong arms caught him.

Imalroc held him by his waist and maneuvered him carefully down.

Rerdas bit back a plea when those firm hands stopped touching him.

He wanted the protective weight, the pressure on his skin.

Instead, he leaned back and braced himself against the wall.

“Well.” Imalroc’s voice floated through the dark. “What now?”

“Now we wait. Once the sun rises, we take to the roads again. Ride south, trade for fresh horses in Carmiontina, and join a caravan headed into Kirinoll.”

There was a long silence. It was a relief when Imalroc broke it. “What will you do when we get back?”

“I need to tell Etiana about the Little Dreamer. From there… I don’t know. We need to keep Aunt Uralta hidden away somewhere safe, where we can wean her off the drug.” He caught himself leaning closer to the battleboxer again, his shoulder brushing the edge of Imalroc’s.

“Your aunt—she must have known about the queen’s deception in the Border War. If the other felds knew the truth, they’d rise against Kuraya.” Imalroc sounded almost dreamy about it.

Rerdas shifted uncomfortably. “It’d be ludicrous for us to get involved. My aunt already risked too much.”

“You don’t plan to tell anyone what we discovered?” Imalroc’s voice turned sharp as that black blade he wore across his back. “The way she uses the tea to kill her enemies? She attacked her own people with mercenaries, and you won’t tell anyone?”

“Not unless I know we can trust them. One thing at a time. Once my aunt recovers, she’ll know what to do. She understands the players in this.”

He sounded like a child running back to his parents.

Not that there had been anyone for him to run to in his childhood.

His father wouldn’t have liked to see it.

But he’d watched other children run into open arms. He’d seen his aunt scoop Etiana up when she was small and had some scrape or another, and he knew Aunt Uralta would have gathered him up too if she’d known that was what he wanted.

Rerdas had always held back, flitted away, and waited to see if anyone would come find him.

The ache in his chest was unbearable. He slouched, slung his legs open recklessly, knowing he was likely to bump up against the man beside him.

His knee collided with Imalroc’s, and the battleboxer immediately knocked back with his own.

“Stop flailing, huntmaster.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Can’t see anything.” Gods, he hated trying to stay still in this quiet darkness.

Perhaps they could dodge the Guard. Perhaps it was a mistake to be sitting here, useless, while his aunt struggled.

While Etiana and Hammond unknowingly drowned her mind.

He drove a heel into the straw-littered ground.

Imalroc cut through the towline of his thoughts. “We should rest.”

“I am rest—”

A calloused hand gripped his nape and squeezed, and his breath hitched at the sensation. Imalroc tipped him closer and growled into his ear, “No, you’re not. You’re stewing. I can practically hear it.”

The battleboxer moved as if to withdraw, and Rerdas ducked closer, twisting to press his face into Imalroc’s neck, breathing the bitter scent of his skin and his hair. Neither of them smelled particularly lovely after the ride, but he didn’t care. Imalroc was warm and reassuringly steady.

“Thank you,” Rerdas whispered. “For coming back with me.” He was afraid to ask why.

Imalroc’s shrug jostled him. “If there’s a chance this Advocate intends to defeat Kuraya and bring down the battleboxes, I want to fight alongside them. There is work for me to do in Inofar yet.”