Chapter 9
Cleansed in the Light
After hours and hours of endless forest, they’d passed through two small villages, but Jesstin knew they weren’t Rivenholde.
He could hear the conversation inside the carriage all the way from his bench seat, where he took his turn driving, but it had become background noise, like the birds flying overhead or the creak of the turning wheels.
He was exhausted from driving since dawn, and he’d been waiting hours for Considine’s signal.
They were well into the foothills, and the drop in temperature was only one sign.
He could barely see the snow-tipped peaks of the fifth and sixth sisters, and the others, once a distant line across the north and south horizons, had disappeared hours ago.
He hadn’t actually known the names of the seven peaks of the west. Did they have names?
Jesstin rolled his neck and stretched as best he could, but it hardly helped. He was lonely too, though he preferred Sesto stay in the carriage where he could keep an eye on the stable hand.
No sooner than he thought, Huh, haven’t heard from Gennady in a spell, his duplicitous ghost popped onto the seat beside him. “I find it so touching when you miss me.”
Wonderful. Amazing job, Jesstin. Way to manifest misery. “Who could miss you?”
“My sister does. I reckon the only thing she cares about as much as getting to the mountains is finding my killer and dealing with them in her own... special way.”
The insinuation that Elloven might obliterate him was less terrifying than imagining the horror on her face when she learned the truth. Would he have the heart to tell her why? Would she believe what he still struggled to, even after seeing it with his own eyes? “Tell her. What’s stopping you?”
Gennady glowered.
“Oh, what’s that? You can’t. What a shame.” Jesstin pinched his shoulders, twisting, but he wouldn’t get a decent stretch until he was off the bench.
“I can see your dreams, you know.”
Jesstin adjusted his aching hands, lifting them from the reins one at a time. His fingers were bone white from the cold, but as soon as he flexed them, they filled with blood again. “You also like to watch me polish my sword late at night. Your lack of respect for privacy isn’t a secret.”
“It’s a nice sword, even if it is attached to a miscreant,” Gennady said with a cool shrug. “I watch because I love how much it frustrates you. The best is when you give up with a little groan and flop over onto your side like a child nursing a tantrum.”
Jesstin narrowed his eyes and focused on the road. The slow elevation change had left his head full of light, building pressure, which was getting worse. The ruts in the path were shallower, some filled with compressed rock, jerky and stomach-turning, which didn’t help.
It was so long until Gennady spoke again, he’d forgotten about him. “Jesstin.”
Jesstin turned his rein-wrapped hands out to say you’re still here?
“You can’t let her die.”
“Your sister?”
“Either break the bond or fulfill it, but do not let Ellie die. You owe—”
“You? Not a bloody thing.” He felt the words as a scream, but anytime he conversed with Gennady, they were more of a whisper. If he could hear the conversation inside the carriage, they could hear him.
“My mother. You owe my mother, who was practically yours for most of your childhood, because you didn’t have one.
She raised you, loved you, trusted you, and still, now, turns to you when she’s desperate.
If you think I want your hands or your sword anywhere near my sister—the disgust I feel.
.. but she’s been through more in ten years than most people will endure in a lifetime, and she has to survive this. I need your promise.”
“Need? From me? You’ve got some fucking balls for a dead man.” Jesstin tightened as the path steepened again, the force of the incline pinning him to the back of the bench. They were nearing a tense switchback ahead. “And about your sister—”
Gennady vanished.
Taven’s taunting voice drifted up to the bench. “Have you ever had hair, eunuch?”
Time to stop. Stop now. Stop!
Jesstin couldn’t say where the warning had come from, but he heeded it. He was done anyway. The stable hand could take over for a few hours.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled the carriage to a rough halt. He turned in his seat and craned down toward the small open window. He caught Elloven’s gaze briefly, then let it travel to the man who was so insecure, he’d tried to have Jesstin executed. “His name is Sesto, stable hand.”
Sesto sniggered.
“You call him eunuch,” Taven retorted. He looked at Elloven for agreement, but she was focused on the trees outside.
“His name is Sesto to you.” Jesstin clarified himself with a brief, disdainful smile. He didn’t miss Elloven’s hidden one afterward either. “And I’m done driving. Where the fuck are we?”
Taven rolled the lever on his window. It squeaked open, and he leaned his head out. “Ah... well...” He sat back, pale and nervous. “We’re at the point in our journey where we wait for them to come to us.” He cleared his throat and swallowed. “And pray they don’t kill us before authorizing passage.”
Elloven tried to make out what Taven and the two men in the road were saying, but they were too far away.
The sentries wore suits of burnt-red leather that looked nothing like anything she’d seen in Riverchapel or Whitechurch.
The sleeve of one blinded her when he raised his arm, revealing a series of glittering gold and silver bands along his bicep, spun from something other than traditional thread.
The midday sun held the gleam. They had axes crossed and strapped to their backs, something she hadn’t seen before, though Fabrien had once bragged to his friends about besting an axe-wielding madman, which even they didn’t believe.
He’d been an effusive bully but a cowardly warrior.
“Seven stripes,” Sesto said quietly. “How curious.” Taven had demanded Sesto and Jesstin remain out of sight until he finished speaking with the guards. Neither had argued, but Jesstin’s hand hadn’t left the clip on his sword belt.
He’d been aching to greet death from the moment his sentence had come down. His recklessness was apt to become self-fulfilling, and she couldn’t guess what awaited them in Rivenholde.
“The stripes seem to indicate some sort of hierarchy. See, the left one has all silver on his, save a single gold one, but the one beside him, who has that air of authority?” Sesto pointed. “He has four gold stripes, the rest silver.”
“Wow, that explained nothing,” Jesstin said. “Can either of you read lips?”
Elloven and Sesto shook their heads.
“Brilliant.” Jesstin laid his sword across his lap, spread his arms along the back of the bench, and inclined with a long sigh.
Minutes passed. Jesstin unbuttoned the top of his blouse, where beads of sweat pooled. Sesto was fanning himself.
“Are you both warm?” she asked. She was still bundled in all her layers, and even those weren’t enough as they’d climbed into the snowy foothills.
“You’re not?” Jesstin gave her an incredulous look. “It’s like we’re sitting in front of a blazing hearth.”
“Dreadful,” Sesto said as he palmed his bald head.
“Please share this hearth you speak of, because I’m freezing,” Elloven replied.
Taven was headed back their way, carrying a medium-sized sack. The guards remained on the road.
He swung the carriage door open. She read the uneasiness in his eyes as he turned them on her.
“They’ve authorized us passage. Yes, them too, but they’ll need to wear these.” Taven opened the bag.
“Who are they?” she asked.
“Esguards of Rivenholde.” His answer came swift and with exasperation, as if she should already know the answer.
It was another word she’d never heard before, esguard, but the meaning seemed clear enough.
He pulled out what looked like a manacle made of some shiny, vibrant metal.
“The heathen and the eunuch will need to wear these on each wrist, each ankle. There are larger ones for their necks.”
“Sorry?” Jesstin tilted his head sideways. “You want us to put on shackles?”
“I would love to see you in shackles, but regrettably, these are to save your life.” Taven tossed the bag on the seat, where it landed with a loud jangle of metal clashing. “You’re not curious why you’re sweating, the two of you, but Ellie and I are fine?”
Neither answered, but she could see they were.
Taven huffed. “We’re crossing into Rivenholde. Neither of you is of the blood, and if you don’t put these on, the further we ride, the hotter you’ll get until you eventually melt into a puddle of your own filth.” He snickered. “On second thought, don’t wear them.”
“That’s how they keep outsiders away,” Sesto remarked with a soft huh. “They feel the heat, and they turn back or find another path.”
Taven’s eyes flicked briefly in confirmation. “They will keep you cool enough to pass through. You won’t need them on the other side. Unfortunately.”
“What about the horses?” Elloven asked.
“Beasts are immune. The ward only affects people.”
“I don’t always make the best choices, but I’m not stupid enough to be tricked into putting on restraints believing they’re actually some magical cooling rings designed to save my life,” Jesstin retorted. He flung one of the bands onto the far bench. “I want to talk to these esguards.”
Taven grinned. “By all means! Go on, I cannot wait to watch.”
“Jesstin,” Elloven warned. Taven’s uneasiness had become her own. “He won’t hurt you. If he did, it would hurt me too. Put them on so we can go through safely.”
Jesstin’s glare cut through Taven, who, for a moment, looked scared of him. “Then tell me how to get them off. On my own.”