Chapter 29 #2
Sebastian’s gaze searched hers, his smile dropping just a touch. Ciana’s breath caught in her chest as his fingers met her temple with a featherlight touch, brushing across her cheek and gently sweeping her mass of curls off her shoulder.
He opened his mouth, like he was about to say something, before shutting it with a snap and dropping his hand.
It was for the best. He didn’t know her true mission yet, but it was good that he was keeping her at an arm’s distance.
A king. You are traveling to court a king. Sebastian’s walls—whatever his reasons for raising them might be—were for the best.
Ciana cleared her throat. “Goodnight, Sebastian.”
He slid his hands into his pockets. “Goodnight, Ciana.”
Ciana slipped into her tent, the canvas brushing her shoulder. Delaynie was already inside and settled on her pallet, brow furrowed as she flipped through the pages of a leather-bound book.
Ciana slowly readied herself for bed, pushing off her boots and folding her socks beside her pack. Her fingers grazed something in a side pocket of the worn canvas—something small and circular. Making sure Delaynie wasn’t paying attention, she pulled it out, hiding it carefully in her palm.
It was her sautoire ring. The one she’d been given on her first debutante. The one she’d worn on her pinky finger every day since she was thirteen.
The one that had a small piece of deistair set into the thin gold band, the stone that would mute and stifle magic.
She shouldn’t do it. She knew Mariah would be so disappointed in her if she did. But the fear she felt, that one that swirled in her belly whenever that thing lurched in her chest—
Maybe one day, she would be strong enough. Today was not that day.
Ciana slipped the ring onto her pinky. It stung for just a moment, just enough to make her wince, before everything went still and quiet.
With a soft, exhaled sigh, Ciana eased her body—sore from the days of traveling and riding and sleeping on the ground—under the soft wool blankets.
The two women laid there in silence for a few minutes, broken only by the flipping pages of Delaynie’s book.
“So,” Ciana said, “you want to talk about what in Enfara is going on between you and Quentin, or…?”
Delaynie slammed her book closed and tossed it onto the pack at her feet. “Goodnight, Ciana,” she said cooly, blowing out the small oil lamp.
In the dark, Ciana smiled.
Ciana gritted her teeth as she rocked back and forth in her saddle.
Everything hurt—her tailbone, her ass, her legs, her core. They’d only been in Desva for two days before setting out on the road again, and her lack of a feather bed was finally catching up to her.
She shifted again in her saddle, a groan slipping past her teeth.
“You all right there, Goldie?”
At least Sebastian was in good spirits this morning.
Ciana grumbled again. “I’m fine.” She pushed her shoulders back, trying to alleviate some of the tension in her spine. “Just very much looking forward to a hot bath, a fluffy robe, and a bed so soft I sink into it.”
When Sebastian didn’t immediately answer, she turned to him, finding his attention on her. Something in his gaze was unfocused and hazy, sliding over her skin like a gentle caress.
Until he noticed her stare and snapped his gaze up, the barest hint of pink tinting his cheekbones.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah-yes. That does sound nice.”
“Oi!” Quentin called from ahead of them, their cart squeaking to a sudden halt. “Sebastian! Get up here.”
Sebastian groaned. “What is it?”
Quentin appeared around the side of the cart, red hair wild and tousled. “There’s a fallen tree in the road. I need your help to move it.”
Sebastian’s brow furrowed, and he made a sound of acknowledgment. He smoothly dismounted, handing the reins of his horse to Ciana. “Stay right here.”
She nodded, giving him a small smile.
The two men jogged up around the cart, their low voices fading away with them. Delaynie stayed in the cart, the dark red-brown of the top of her head just visible over their covered supplies.
There were a few rough thuds, like axes striking wood, and then silence.
Too much silence.
Ciana’s mare tensed beneath her, ears pricked at the trees ahead. The horse stamped her foot, tossing her head, Sebastian’s horse doing the same.
“Easy, girl,” Ciana murmured, placing a palm on the mare’s dappled neck, but it did little to calm the beast.
The silence hammered against her.
Something was wrong.
Slowly, quietly, she slid from her mare’s back, giving the animal one last reassuring pat. She took small, careful steps around the cart.
“Del?” Ciana called softly, turning the corner and glancing up at her friend.
Delaynie was there, but she didn’t answer. She was instead frozen in her seat, face paler than usual, eyes wide and filled with terror.
Stomach-turning fear dropped into Ciana’s veins as she followed Delaynie’s gaze.
A group of five masked strangers stood, clothed in the muted yellows and greens of the marshlands around them. Four of them held great longbows, arrows nocked and drawn, pointed at where Quentin and Sebastian knelt seething beside discarded axes.
The fifth man took a step forward, as sure and silent as the fall of leaves into the grass.
“Welcome to Idrix, travelers. Surrender your weapons, and we won’t have any trouble.”