Chapter Sixteen
Pikquarrys
My fury at the princess for running from me has simmered into worry by the time I finally catch her scent. It leads me to Voyeur’s Perch, where a troubling scent mingles so closely with Princess Loreleivnna’s that only a fragment of her sweet hyacinth remains.
Rage boils to the surface. Halor has a lock of Princess Loreleivnna’s hair wrapped around his slimy finger.
“Get away from her,” I bellow as my hooves stomp over the grassy hill.
Neither seems to notice me. I shove my body between theirs, gripping the ventus’serpentaur’s wrist and slamming it against his chest.
I prefer to stay away from cloud-strikers, particularly Oranthers, the strongest of the weather-mages. A plucked-off Oranther may coax the moisture from one’s lungs, and that’s if they don’t smother the city with toxic fog or obliterate it with plasma bolts crafted by static buildup in the clouds.
This one is a full head taller than me. His gaze slides onto mine lazily, like I’m a mosquito buzzing around his jugular, but I don’t back down.
“Pikr,” Princess Loreleivnna says, her tone as unperturbed as her slack features. “You found me.”
Alarm bells pound in my skull. I slam my left arm against Halor’s chest, holding him back while I turn to address the princess. “Princess Loreleivnna, you must come with me. This clod of manure is drenched in the stench of enchantments.”
“Svitaeryl does not ban enchantments,” she argues.
“No, but your father hired me to make sure no one takes advantage of you, specifically with enchantments that others can’t discern.”
“I am no threat,” Halor drawls. He puffs his chest against my arm, but I don’t remove my gaze from Loreleivnna’s and the strange film coating her jeweled eyes. “The enchantments aid my survival during extended visits to this…lowly environment.”
I snort in Halor’s direction but don’t dignify his thinly veiled insult with a response. The sleazy serpent has handled trade relations between our people for decades, and before him there was another of his same ilk.
“He’s done something to you, Princess Loreleivnna.” I squint at her and sniff the air, trying to piece together what’s different. “How do you feel?”
“I’m rosy,” she snaps, sounding an ember more like herself. “He claims the enchantments help him survive. Do you detect another intent?”
I tilt my chin toward the ventus’serpentaur. Usually, enchantments reveal themselves to me easily, but the air around him is so thick, I wade through the enchantments like molten runoff.
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “But he could be—”
“Release him.”
I shake my head. “No.”
Fury crackles over her features like blinding lightning of the everstorms in Ashfall Valley, transforming her into something borne of glorious nightmares.
“You will release the Isles of Aethereusum envoy,” Princess Loreleivnna commands with the tongue of a dark goddess. “This instant.”
Missing is the princess I’ve thought dainty and in need of protection. She resembles King Vyrion when he adopts the entire weight of his crown. I’ve seen many great creatures crumble under the very look she pins on me now.
My legs threaten to wobble, but my chest fills with pride. I wish Vyrion was here to see her. He would bury his claim that she was fragile.
“I cannot do that, Your Highness.” I incline my head, my arm still blocking the serpent. “I made a vow to your father, the king.”
“Is it your vow that plants you now, or jealousy?” Her tone is cold enough to extinguish my volcanic forge. “I have suffered your ego’s bruises enough. My decision is final.”
Her words are a magma blade enchanted with heartbreak, slicing through my chest. Stunned, my hooves grow roots, and I’m left fastened to Voyeur’s Perch as she steps around me and accepts Halor's hand. She slides onto his back, and they take off into the sky.