Chapter 80
“Thirty gold for all three. That’s as low as I’ll go.”
Andrian scowled. “Ten gold each? They’re sumpters. That seems a little steep.”
The man bristled, folding his hands over his barreled chest. “They’re good stock, boy. I know what I breed. And I’ll sell them with tack. I’m not willing to part with them for anything less.”
They glared at each other, frustration swirling beneath Andrian’s ribs. He knew the man was charging him more than the three horses were worth. While they were well-bred, with solid bones and intelligent eyes, they were small and drab. About as ordinary as a horse could get.
But Andrian needed the horses, and unfortunately, this man knew it.
Andrian blew out a sigh. “Fine.” He dug out the coins from his pocket. They mocked him with the way they cheerfully tinkled. The man took them with a broad grin.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” he said. “My boys will get them all tacked up and get you sent on your way.”
Andrian nodded. He leaned against the side of the barn, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze drifted away from the small village, back toward the thick tree line that made up the forests of central Onita. Mariah, Matheo, and Callamus waited in those woods, setting up camp.
They’d just left Eyarfell that afternoon, the wing beats of dragons covering ground far faster than any other animal on the continent.
They’d flown over the Everheim Mountains, watching them fade into foothills over the Onitan border.
They’d passed Antoris then Khento, following the scar left by Kol’s army as it had carved across the kingdom.
Callamus had urged them to descend into these forests as the sun was giving away to early evening. It was about a half-day’s ride from Andburgh, and far enough from the army’s path that they shouldn’t attract any unwanted attention.
It was also then suggested that they figure out a way to travel the rest of the way on horseback. Dragons were conspicuous, to say the least. The last thing they wanted was to draw eyes to them before they were ready.
To everyone’s surprise—including his own—Andrian had volunteered himself to go into the nearby village to buy horses. It had seemed like such a mundane, ordinary task. One that, in another life, he would have to do often.
Sometimes he wished for that ordinary life more than he’d ever wished for anything. One in which he was just a man, and Mariah was not a queen. One where they could see the world together, just them, and take the time to find the quiet and peace that evaded them at every twist of fate.
A silly dream, he knew. But one he dreamed of all the same.
“Here they are.”
The man returned, leading three saddled horses—two solid bays, one a flea-bitten gray. “Should you ever come back this way and have no more use for them, I’ll buy them back from you. I meant what I said; they’re good beasts.”
Andrian took the offered reins. “Thank you.” He tied the reins of the gray horse to the saddle of one of the bays, then took that horse's reins in hand and mounted the third. With a light tap of his heels against the animal’s flank, the horse started forward, leading the other two toward the thick, quiet woods.
The tang of smoke greeted Andrian as he emerged into the small clearing.
Three tents were pitched in a semi-circle, tucked against the trees.
Callamus sat a short distance away, tossing rocks and sticks through the tall meadow grass.
Matheo tended to the small fire, carefully arranging the wood to limit the smoke.
Mariah sat on a rock beside him, watching him work, but her expression told Andrian that she wasn’t truly seeing.
There was a tense, heavy quiet in the camp. The kind of silence that hung around people who were headed toward a terrifying unknown but had no choice other than to press on.
They turned at the sound of the horses’ hooves through the underbrush. Mariah rose to her feet, brushing her hands down her dark leathers.
Andrian knew it wasn’t the time and that they had much bigger things to be dealing with at the moment, but fuck, he loved the way she looked like this.
Dressed in black leathers that clung to her muscular curves, dark hair unbound around her shoulders.
Her leather tunic was sleeveless, crossed with the straps to the short swords sheathed down her spine.
Those strange marks on her hands and wrists glowed in the dimming evening light, opalescence beating a soft, cadenced rhythm like the beat of a heart.
Like the beat of her heart.
He slid from the horse, giving the animal a soft pat on the neck. The other two filed into the clearing, standing patiently with flickering ears and soft eyes.
“Nothing fancy,” Andrian said, untying the reins of the other two horses. “And I paid way too much for them. But they are healthy and sane and—”
He was nearly knocked off his feet as Mariah slammed into him with way more force than he was expecting. Jasmine and cedarwood swept over him, and he couldn’t help drawing in a breath. Her arms latched around his waist, face burrowing in his chest.
Andrian chuckled, folding his arms around her shoulders, sweeping the silky length of her hair away from her neck. “I was only gone a few hours,” he murmured against the top of her head. “Miss me that much, nio?”
Mariah nodded against him. “We’re so close,” she said softly. “I can feel how close we are. And the closer we get…” She drew in a great, shuddering breath, chin tipping up until his gaze was filled with resplendent forest green. “The closer we get, the more terrified I become.”
Andrian wished there was something he could say. Wished that there were words he could offer to soothe her fears, to reassure her that whatever haunted her would not come true.
But he’d lived for weeks with Kol. He knew how the monster thought, the sort of games he played. He’d played those games on Andrian himself, after all.
And they’d long ago sworn not to lie to each other.
So instead, Andrian only offered her a silent nod, hoping she felt how deeply he understood, and pressed his lips to hers.
He could get lost in this soft, quiet moment. This pause in the intake of breaths, this moment of stillness before the breaking of a dam.
Of course, that was not how such things worked.
A piercing cry rang out over the trees. A dark shape shot down from the sky. Mariah immediately whirled, blade drawn. Matheo nocked an arrow, and Andrian pulled a long-bladed dagger from his belt.
The newest arrival flapped its wings, crying out again. It was a bird, long pointed wings flapping furiously as it circled the clearing.
“It’s a falcon,” Mariah whispered into his mind. Recognition shot down their bond. “Wait—is it—?”
Blue light flashed through the clearing.
The falcon was gone. Instead knelt a dark-skinned figure, smooth head bowed, panting softly. Their clothes—once fine—were ragged and torn, and gold jewelry bangled on their wrists and around their neck.
Mariah lowered her sword, slipping it back into its scabbard. Matheo similarly lowered his bow, eyes wide. Callamus stood, concern etching across his ageless brow.
“Amasis?” Mariah took a step forward. The figure glanced up, brilliant blue eyes landing on Mariah. “What’s happened? What are you doing here? How did you find us?”
The tall and lean figure—Amasis—took a final, shaky breath and stood. They carefully wiped their hands down the front of their ruined clothes.
“I’m so sorry, Mariah,” Amasis said. “I tried to hold the peace as long as I could. I swear that I did.”
Cool dread slid through Andrian. He felt the same feeling reflected in Mariah.
He didn’t know this person, but he wasn’t an idiot. Dark skin, shifter, the accent. They were Kreah, and something had happened.
Something bad.
Amasis pointed at a tree above them. Cielle was perched on a branch, ruffling her feathers, but more reserved than usual.
“Your eagle found me when I entered Onitan territory. She led me to you.”
“Amasis,” Mariah repeated. “What happened?”
Amasis swallowed. “The Kreah rebels have taken over. Natia staged her coup. I’ve been ousted as High Counsellor.”
Oh.
Fuck.
This was the High Counsellor of Kreah. Or, former High Counsellor. Mariah had said they’d been one of her closest allies in the aftermath of Khento. They’d promised to keep her court and the Onitan refugee’s safe.
But with them here, that meant—
“What about my court?” Mariah said, voice breathless. “What about my family?”
Amasis clenched their hands. “They have not been harmed. Of that, I am sure. But your court—” Amasis’s voice caught on the words.
“Your court—including your father and brother, all those you left behind—were captured. They’ve been sent to the Onitan camp and told they have three days to leave Kreah. ”
Andrian stepped out from behind Mariah, brushing his shoulder to hers. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, the Marks on her hands pulsing wildly, magic lashing in the green of her eyes. Fury slid down their bond, hot and seething and glowing with dragonfire.
“And Rulene? What happened to your goddess?”
Callamus stepped forward, expression a careful mask, though his head tilted with interest.
Amasis wavered. “Priam was…upset at the chaos. Specifically at Rulene for not doing more to stop it.” They turned to Callamus, bowing their elegant head. “I’m so sorry.”
“What did Priam do?” Callamus asked, voice as icy and cool as the dead of night.
“He betrayed Rulene. Using some magic—I do not know how—he locked her in her temple. Then he flew off into the horizon. Gods only know where.”
A low growl—a dragon’s growl—rumbled from Callamus. For the first time since Andrian had met him, the god truly looked furious. The galaxies in his eyes blazed with energy, his skin rippling with indigo magic.
Callamus turned to Mariah. “I am sorry,” he said softly. “But I must go to her. I must free her. I know the magic he used to bind her; it is cruel but easily broken and can only be broken by another god.”
Mariah nodded. “I understand.” She hesitated. “When you’re there, can you—”
“When Rulene is free, I will do what I can to placate the rebels. And yes, I will make sure your people are safe.”
“Take them to Leuxrith, if you can.”
Callamus nodded. “I agree. I will send your Armature to you, though.”
Indigo light flashed across the clearing. A great purple-blue dragon leaped into the dusk sky, trees shaking with the booms of his wings.
It had been less than twenty seconds since Amasis had given them the news and Callamus was already gone. No time for further discussion, no time to plan for what now awaited Mariah at the end of this journey.
Fear wormed its way into Andrian’s gut. No army, no allies, and now no gods to stand beside them.
Mariah had faced Kol once. She’d held her own, to be sure.
But she’d been unable to beat him that day.
He reached for her, wanting—no, needing—to talk to her. “Mariah—”
“I should follow.” Amasis hadn’t heard Andrian, their gaze lingering on Callamus’s quickly vanishing form. “I should return with him to Kreah.”
“You know that isn’t safe for you, Amasis,” Mariah said. “Wait for Callamus to settle things. In the meantime, you should fly north. To Leuxrith. Find Signe. The Leuxrithian informants can keep track of when it might be safe for you to return to Kreah.”
Amasis hesitated but slowly nodded. “You’re right.” They dipped their head. “I am sorry, again. Truly. I never thought Natia would go so far. I should’ve listened to you.”
Mariah gripped the High Counsellor’s shoulder.
“No. I should’ve listened to you.” Regret tinged Mariah’s voice.
She’d told Andrian all that had happened in Kreah—Quentin’s encounter, the confrontation with the Elders, the rebel she’d slaughtered the day she’d left for Leuxrith.
How she’d done everything she could to keep her people safe and still worried that they might’ve been all the wrong choices.
He hated—loathed—that all those inner fears she carried were coming true.
Amasis smiled sadly. “As leaders, we always strive to do what is right. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. But no matter what, we never stop fighting.”
Mariah nodded and stepped away.
“Skies carry you, Mariah Salis.” Blue light flashed. The sleek falcon hopped from foot to foot, spreading its wings, and vaulted into the sky.