Chapter 5 #2
And it was his weapon that she recognized.
His dagger, with its carved bone hilt, that killed her in those dreams.
Arawn led her and the few remaining survivors up the steep, snowy path north.
Walk, she told herself, the way Ervos once did.
She imagined his enormous body summiting this very path.
She was so close to resting. To warmth and a place to lay her head, for she didn’t give a damn anymore if it was in a soldier’s barracks or a seaside cell. She just wanted to sleep and slide back into her dreams.
To see the face of Kinlear Laroux and try to discover when – and why – he would kill her.
You’ll warn me, she thought to the wind. Won’t you?
It had never failed her before.
She almost wept at the sight of the two enormous black towers up ahead.
They were colossal twin onyx formations that sprouted right out of the forest floor. Runes glowed a soft gold upon every stacked stone: giant, curling script that was so otherworldly Ezer had to pause to take it all in.
It wasn’t just the stones. That rich, golden sheen emanated from the top of each tower and spanned outwards into the sky … a dome of golden light that covered all of Augaurde.
The wards.
‘The Forest Gates,’ Arawn said, noting her stare. ‘There are six Gates surrounding the north, each one gifted by the gods on a Realmbreak long ago. This pair marks the southern entrance to Augaurde … the only space in the north that is safe by nightfall.’
He held out a hand – which, Ezer noted, was still darkened from dried shadow wolf blood. How could they even bleed, when they were spun from shadows? The Acolyte’s magic was terrifying, impossible to understand. ‘The wards are Godsmade. They will know where your loyalty lies.’
One by one, the survivors stepped through the golden sheen of light. It parted around each person like a curtain, molding back into place the moment they’d stepped through.
What happens if we don’t pass its test? Ezer thought.
Because she’d dreamt of too many things coming true. And in her dreams, after Kinlear stabbed her …
She saw her own blood, running black.
She clenched a fist over her mother’s ring and watched the others step into Augaurde. Everyone passed with ease.
Until she noticed the man before her had fists as clenched as her own.
The second his nose touched the wards, there was a horrible crackle. Before Ezer could even yelp, he had been blasted backwards.
His body was already steaming as it hit the snow.
‘What … what happened?’ Ezer whispered.
Arawn knelt at the man’s side, his blue eyes narrowed.
‘A dark heart,’ he said, and used the tip of his sword to pierce the man’s skin. A droplet of blood welled out. It was utterly black. Dark as oil. ‘He’d already defected in his soul. No telling how long ago.’ He whispered a prayer and stood, his gaze sliding back to her. ‘Go ahead.’
Her mouth fell open.
‘But what about him?’
A defector had been among them the entire time. And no one had known. How many others were out there in the realm, walking among them like hidden shadows?
Arawn shrugged his enormous shoulders. ‘The wolves will do as they please with him. A fate he deserves, for denying the Five.’
An earsplitting cry suddenly divided the night.
Ezer gasped as the trees tremored above her. And despite the painful tug on her scars … when she looked up, she smiled.
A war eagle.
A real, true war eagle suddenly soared over her head.
Its wings were enormous, their color a buttery gold, and so much larger than she’d ever imagined. It banked as it circled overhead, and in the wardlight, it looked like each feather on its wings was spun from the cloth of the gods.
It was large enough that it carried two riders upon its back with ease – the female.
And Kinlear.
A second eagle followed, and Ezer stopped walking, feeling like the world had slid out from underneath her. Like she had instead fallen into the pages of the worn storybooks Ervos had purchased for her when she was just a child.
A child desperate for more, anything she could get about the mighty war mounts of the north. Her entire life, her greatest friends had been the birds. And the war eagles …
They were magnificent.
Even if the first beast did carry the prince – both lover and killer – from her dreams.
‘Minder.’
She watched the mounts soar away, until the hilltop and the Forest Gates blocked them from her sight.
‘Night waits for no one,’ Arawn said. The golden wards shimmered behind him, outlining him like a halo. When she didn’t move, he sighed and ground out, ‘Please.’
Ezer lifted a dark brow. ‘It has manners now?’
Arawn’s gaze hardened. ‘It has a name.’
‘And so do I besides Minder. Or does everyone always refer to you as your title, Oh Mighty Crown Prince?’
‘Oh migh—’ He paused to take a deep, calming breath. ‘You enter with me now, or you get left behind.’ He leveled his icy gaze upon her. ‘The choice is yours.’
She knew he meant it.
But she still stared at him, unmoving.
Waiting for him to meet her demand.
‘Ezer.’ He finally said her name, exasperated. ‘Will that do?’
‘Well enough,’ she said back. ‘Your … Majesty?’
‘Arawn,’ he said, and he looked like he’d been defeated. For some reason, that made her smile. ‘Just … call me Arawn.’
She stepped up to the wards.
There was truly nowhere else for her to go. At least here … she would have a Ravenminder’s tower, a space to call her own, a purpose. A job she was certain she could do well.
At least, soon enough, she would be back with the birds, who never made her feel small or insignificant or unsafe.
Please, she thought, as she stepped into the golden wardlight. Please, let me through.
Her chest lightened as the wards parted.
But she did not smile as she entered.
Because she knew, like Ervos, she might not ever make it back out alive.