33. Mare
Mare
Back when I aspired to become Aenir's princess, being carried through the streets by a Paragon would have been fantastic for my image.
The ladies would all gossip, tinged green with envy. The men would have fawned over me like a poor, wounded doe.
Now? I was the Paragon. Having my mentor carry me through the streets like a princess rescued from the villain was awful for my image. I looked incompetent. Weak.
Strangely, I didn't much care. The people of Muirashi would have never accepted me, anyway.
Fresh pain raked through my side as Reese lifted me onto his horse's saddle. "You'll be riding Lady for the time being."
"You named your horse Lady?" I asked groggily.
"Do you hate it as much as you hate my cat's name?"
"No. I just realized it's never come up."
I'd never given my elk a name. Now, he was gone.
My elk had soft eyes and a gentle temperament like the dragons with butterfly-patterned wings. A note of grief tugged at my heart.
Taking the reins, Reese guided the white mare named Lady down the street.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"To Aenir," he called back.
"We're leaving?"
"The governor just tried to kill you, Mare. There'll be a line of assassins eager to finish the job."
"What about Diar?"
"She wanted to handle this herself. I would never force another Paragon's hand." He sighed. "Even though I wanted to."
I gnawed on my lip, worried.
"Aenir might have been attacked," Reese added. "It's time to report to King Ailithir and offer them aid. And we need to spread the word that people are behind these attacks, even if we don't yet know who."
I glanced back at the dingy inn we'd rented to hide from the Solhearts. How many had been a part of the attacking force?
Only Quinn, I imagined. He'd been different from the two nobles who'd harassed me in the inn. Though Quinn had every right to look down on me, he'd met my eye with respect. If anything, he'd looked up.
My head hurt too much to think about the grander implications of this revelation—even if there was good news within.
If the monsters arrived at man's command—I was not to blame for the black tide.
Just as I pulled my eyes from the inn, its door flew open, and a beautiful Solheart woman stepped out. In my fogged vision, she seemed blurred by a radiant halo.
"There you are!" Bláth called.
Liam was a step behind her. The weight of the world fell from my shoulders, and I could again breathe.
My little brother jogged down the steps, dark coat dusted with snow—but not blood.
He stared daggers at Reese. "Why does my sister look like shit?"
I smiled, despite myself. Even if I lay dying, my brother would only offer acerbic words.
Reese stopped. "She's injured. We need to go, now." He glared at Bláth. "Where's Ferris?"
"Yes, well, about that. . . " Bláth paused beside me, laying a hand on my leg. "Are you okay, hun?"
Warmth rushed through my limbs. I nodded. "Despite Liam's attempts to slander me, I'm fine."
"Bláth," Reese said, an edge to his voice. "Where's Ferris?"
She tucked her hands in her pocket and danced to his side. "He helped Diar escape and steal Siotha again. So, he's in the dungeons."
I closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose. When nobles offended their foreign allies, recompense and a formal apology were demanded from the ruling sovereign.
It had happened more than a few times between Aenir and Muirashi. King Ailithir would be furious, just hopefully not at me.
Liam untied his elk and pulled it away from the inn. "For what it's worth, Ferris looked rather proud of himself as they dragged him away."
"Oh, I'm sure he did." Reese sighed. "He'll be safe here. They won't hurt him."
But they would hurt me.
"Still," I croaked. "I can't leave my prince behind."
"You can, and you will," Reese said firmly. "We've broken enough laws." He paused. "Do you have a ride, Bláth? Because I'm not giving you one."
"You're such a gentleman.” Bláth's voice dripped with sarcasm. "My horse bolted during the attack." She glanced at Liam, lips curling into a smile. "I guess we'll have to double up."
Liam shot her a withering glare. "You're not riding with me."
"Aren't I?" Bláth slipped around Lady and deftly mounted Liam's elk. She wiggled in the saddle, making a show of getting comfortable. "I have more news, by the way."
Eyes closing, Liam rubbed his forehead. My poor brother, forced to ride with a beautiful Solheart. The tragedy.
"What?" Reese asked.
"Paragon Agendra sent word, just a few hours back. His fort withstood their assault."
Reese's shoulders relaxed. He breathed out. "Good. I can leave in better conscience, then. Muirashi has Agendra, and whoever Yuudai wants to be their Paragon."
He turned Lady down an eastern road, away from the congested streets and chaos. Grabbing the saddle, he mounted behind me, drenching me in his warmth.
A strong arm wrapped around my waist, gentle, careful to avoid touching my wound.
Groaning, Liam mounted behind Bláth and snatched the reins from her. I chuckled, and he shot me a glare.
Reese pulled me back against him. Exhausted, pained, I laid my head against his chest and let my eyes close.
In my shadowed vision, every movement, every passing body seemed like an assassin preparing to strike. Nobles wanted me dead. Soldiers, too.
So did the Solhearts leading the armies of shadow.
They hadn't seemed evil. But what did I know?
My world had been Aenir's capital city, Casaloch, and the unwalked path to Tirnanog. Something far more complicated than the black tide was unfolding, but I was as clueless as a child.
Wrapped in Reese's comforting embrace, I sank into the darkness willingly.
I dreamed of my home. Of silver buildings beneath the canopy of our great tree, its leaves violet as the lightning.
For hours upon hours, I trudged toward the city, fighting against the storms.
No matter how long I traveled, how hard I fought, I never reached it.
My eyes snapped open. A tent tarp stretched above my head. The world around me was utterly quiet, unsettlingly so.
Reese knelt by my side, carefully tying new bandages around my wound. A used needle and thread lay beside him. I'd missed the worst of it.
"Tell me true, doctor," I murmured. "Will I live?"
Reese glanced over and chuckled. "Does anything still that sharp tongue of yours?"
"Not really, no."
Smiling, he returned to his work. Through my bleary vision, I realized I was mostly naked save for the bandages around my chest and abdomen. A blanket covered my lower half.
Reese tied off the gauze and pulled the blanket up to my neck. The world shrank until all that remained was his hand on my chest as he smoothed out the blanket's creases.
Fresh, hot pain surged through my torso, and the world expanded. I gasped, reaching for the wound.
Reese caught my hand. "I know it hurts, but the painkiller should kick in soon."
Squeezing my hand, he lowered it back to my side.
My mind snapped back to the Solheart who had done this to me.
"Who is he?" I asked. "Alistair."
Reese's tensed. His fingers curled into a fist before slipping away from me. "An old friend. We haven't crossed paths in ten years."
"How did he manage all this?" I flicked my fingers idly. "Training scádes to lead armies, gathering so many allies?"
"I don't know.” Reese stared ahead while he packed up his medical supplies.
"He always had ambitions. They are mostly involved .
. . " He trailed off. "Nobody has ever returned from the Ceorthan Shadowlands alive.
How could they have spent enough time there to tame scádes? And for there to be so many . . . "
I propped myself up on an elbow. "Why would Solhearts do this? Kill their own Emperor, attack their own cities?"
"Alistair isn't a lord," Reese said. "He's a half-blooded peasant. Quinn isn't one either—Glenn Seradh is his half-brother, the real lord. Quinn's a bastard who was tossed on the streets."
"But still—”
"Solhearts have hierarchies of their own. We were at the bottom, treated like filth by our own kind."
"We? So you were just a peasant in Forlaith?"
"They call us dirt crawlers, actually." Reese looked away. "I don't like talking about my past. Especially not Alistair. I think he hurt you to get under my skin."
"Did it work?" I blurted out and bit my tongue. My natural desire for gossip had overcome me.
For a moment, I worried I'd upset Reese. His expression hardened, and he wouldn't look at me. Then, he lolled his head to meet my eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Mare. I think it worked."
"Right, in the glade. . . " I rolled my tongue in my mouth. "The wings were. . . a nice touch. I've never seen anything like that before."
"A nice touch? Have you or your brother ever paid anyone a genuine compliment?"
"No, never." I shook my head firmly.
Reese laughed, and I smiled. Swallowing, I felt the humor fade from my bones. "What did you do to make Alistair hate you so much?"
A hollow look entered Reese's eyes, like he was a thousand miles away. "We had a falling out. When I inherited the Paragon mantle, the last bit of goodwill between us snapped. He saw it as me joining the enemy."
"I had no idea," I breathed. "Growing up, I always thought—”
"That Forlaith was a glittering paradise of snobs?" Reese smiled sadly. "Everyone thinks so. But it's anything but."
"Still, it must make all this complicated, knowing your friends are the faces behind it."
"It doesn't. Anyone who associates themselves with the shadows deserves death. My personal feelings won't stay my blade."
My throat tightened until I could hardly breathe. I tried to say something witty, something to distract from the rising panic.
Reese would not hesitate to kill me when he learned the truth. I'd always suspected as much, but to hear it confirmed . . .
He must have noticed my distress. Reaching out, he brushed my hair from my eyes, tucking it behind my ears. His fingers lingered on the side of my face, tingling spots of warmth against the cold.
I couldn't resist. Closing my eyes, I leaned into him.