A frantic whinny sounded to Silver's right. She jumped out of the way as a panicked stallion galloped through the crowd.
“The stable!” came a high, panicked voice. “They've set it on fire!”
Hoofbeats echoed the girl's warning.
“Stampede!” multiple voices shouted.
Dozens of horses poured into the town square, trampling any in their way.
Silver scrambled onto a trellis behind her, climbing onto a roof.
Roxen, Arlo and Haerian pulled themselves up beside her.
“Why would the mob set the stable on fire?” Arlo caught his breath.
“They didn't. Look.” Roxen pointed out the open arrow-slits lining the palace's walls.
More flaming arrows flew from the slits, setting other buildings ablaze.
Their thatch roof location did not feel very safe anymore.
“They're setting their own city on fire?” Haerian nestled closer to Arlo.
Silver shook her head. “The palace's marble walls won't burn. They aren't targeting the crowds, either. They're destroying the common people's homes and businesses, trying to force them to give up.”
“It's working.” Arlo pointed out the panicked masses abandoning their weapons and trying to save their homes. Others fled the city.
Silver did not blame them. “We have to get off this roof.”
The horses had mostly scattered, so they carefully made their way back to the rutted, muddy ground.
“Indira!” A voice Silver recognized shouted over the chaos. “Indira, you have to get out!”
Cassian Libera stood with his back to the Fenearens. He had his arms raised, trying to shield himself from the heat of the burning stable.
The supports beams groaned, ready to fall.
“Cassian!” Silver called as she ran toward him. “You have to get back!”
He turned to her. “Silver?” he said in disbelief.
“Get back!” She repeated. “It's going to fall down!”
“No!” Cassian rushed toward the burning building instead. “Indira!”
Silver reached him just in time. She and Roxen grabbed the shouting Maenoren, dragging him away from the danger.
A small figure emerged from the stable, leading a bucking, foaming destrier at least three times her height. They cleared the building as the beams fell, throwing sparks into the air.
Some singed the slight girl's short black hair, but she did not notice. Indira turned toward the terrified beast, stroking its muzzle until it stopped struggling.
“Indira.” Cassian touched her shoulder. “What were you thinking? I thought you were right behind me!”
“Xanthos was trapped in his stall. I couldn't leave him.” She looked around. “Where are the other horses? Are they safe?”
“They fled the city,” Marielana said.
Indira did not question the Fenearens' presence. “I have to go after them.” She swung herself onto Xanthos's bare back.
“Indira, wait!” Cassian called after her, but it was no use.
“She'll be safer out of the city,” said Arlo.
Cassian nodded. “Thank the gods you're here. Come with me.”
They followed Cassian out of the square, around the palace's right side.
Once they reached a set of hedges out of the fire's reach, he stopped.
“Cassian,” said Silver. “We heard they captured Seperun in the palace, and mean to execute him.”
He nodded, his mouth a grim line. “I was in the market when it happened. Daveed and our men are inside.” He swallowed. “Revine—that snake—has poisoned some of the palace guards against Seperun, and paid plenty of others, I'm sure.”
“We heard they meant to install Rhael's heir as Overlord?” said Roxen.
“That's what Revine claimed when he addressed the people from Seperun's balcony, but it's not possible. Rhalen is imprisoned at the Cult of Demetrian. Davin would never let him escape.”
Silver could not see how Cassian could be so confident in that, but it seemed pointless to argue that point at present. Silver moved past it. “How can we get inside the palace? We must try and save the Regent and stop this rebellion.”
“I'm relieved to hear you say that.” Cassian pointed to a marble wall about twice their height spanning the distance between the hedge garden and the palace's other side.
“There's a servant's entrance not far over that wall. It'll be guarded. I wouldn't have stood a chance fighting my way inside on my own, but with all of us together, it's possible.”
Arlo adjusted his eye patch. “Right then. Lead the way.”
Garrison threw Rayna onto her knees.
She tried to growl as he pulled the hood from her head, but only managed a weak grumble. She blinked rapidly.
The others were thrown beside her.
They were in some kind of antechamber. From the lack of extravagant decorations, she guessed it was the entrance to a servant’s wing of the palace.
Why would Garrison bring them here? Would he not want to drag them triumphantly through the main gates? Instead he'd sneaked them through secret tunnels into a nondescript part of Tenavar.
Garrison turned to one of his men. “Inform Councilor Terayan we have returned with the fugitives.”
“Yes sir!” He saluted and disappeared through the door ahead of them.
As it opened, Rayna caught a whiff of sweat and lye strong enough for even her reduced senses to notice. They were near the laundry.
Channon had noticed the strangeness of their circumstances, too. He scrunched his forehead and gave a slight shrug.
“What’s going on?” Rayna asked.
Garrison smiled to his men. “Told you she likes to speak out of turn.”
Kellan jumped to his feet, rushing Garrison despite his bound hands. “I’ll kill you for what you did to my people, you son of a—”
Garrison silenced Kellan with a punch to the gut.
The Sylrian fell, gasping.
Mina tried to reach him, but a guard held her back.
“What a fool you are, Kemar. You manage to escape Krymammer, just to come back and be captured again?” Garrison pulled Kellan up by the ear.
Rayna wanted to help, but what could she do? She could only hope that Terayan had ordered Garrison to bring them alive, so Garrison could not do much more than threaten Kellan.
“I’ll kill you,” Kellan repeated.
“You will sit and do what you’re told, dog.” Garrison released him, letting Kellan fall to his knees.
Garrison’s men laughed.
The sound burned like red hot pokers in Rayna’s ears.
She hated them.
She hated all of them.
The laundry door opened. Several more guards piled in, followed by the one man Rayna hated more than all the others—the one who had caused all the suffering since Rhael proposed to her.
“Terayan,” she spat.
“Rayna.” He smiled as he said her name, like he was greeting an old friend. He adjusted the top button of his embroidered gold tunic.
“I hope our arrival hasn’t disturbed your afternoon,” Mina seethed.
“On the contrary Miss Tsanclar. You are all right on time.” He turned to Garrison. “Have Tsanclar, Kemar, Lyallt, and Saelia taken to the cells.”
“And Rayna?” Garrison asked, a hungry light gleaming in his gray eyes.
“Escort Miss Myana to my rooms.”
Garrison broke into a rabid grin. “With pleasure, Councilor.” He gripped Rayna’s bound wrists, dragging her to her feet.
“And Captain, be discrete.”
“Yes sir.” Garrison pulled on her arm, but Rayna did not budge.
“I won’t leave my friends.”
Garrison tightened his hold, but Terayan waved him off.
“No need to be so brutish, Captain.” Terayan approached her. “Cooperate with Captain Garrison, Rayna, or I will start killing your friends. Shall I begin with Miss Tsanclar?” He nodded to the guard cl
osest to Mina. The guard reached for his sword.
“No!” Rayna cried.
Terayan shook his head, and the guard dropped his hold on his weapon. “Perhaps Master Lyallt then?”
“No, I’ll go. Just leave them alone, please.” Rayna looked to Garrison. “Lead the way.”
Kellan lifted his head. “Rayna, we’ll find him. They won't win.”
She half-smiled and followed Garrison through the laundry.
Once the door closed behind them, Garrison grabbed Rayna's waist, pulling her closer to him. He inhaled. “Mmm,” he said. “You’ve been at sea too long, Rayna. So much salt and grime.”
“You’d know all about grime, Garrison.” She shoved out of his grasp.
“The Councilor told you to behave.” He grabbed her wrists and towed her into a narrow staircase leading upward.
“He told you to escort me discretely, not assault me.”
“Yes,” Garrison said as he stopped, pushing her against the wall. “Escort you to his private rooms. What do you suppose he intends to do with you there?”
Rayna turned away from Garrison’s face. She would not dignify his implications with a response, though they chilled her to the bone. Surely that’s not what Terayan intended?
Garrison ran his hand over her waist, finding the edge of her undershirt. He lifted it up, running his hand over the scar he'd given her.
“My only hope,” he whispered, “is that when he’s done, I’m permitted to finish this.”
Rage overcame any restraint Rayna had forced upon herself. She head-butted Garrison.
Blood sprayed from his nose, splattering the stairwell’s walls.
Her head spun. The pain from colliding with Garrison’s skull sent her sprawling. She caught herself from falling down the stairs.
Garrison managed to keep his feet. With one hand gripping his bloodied nose, he grabbed Rayna by the hair. “Better get you to the Councilor’s chambers, before I kill you myself.”
Garrison’s rapidly swelling nose gave his voice a nasally quality and Rayna could not help but laugh as he forced her onward.
“You’re mad,” Garrison growled.
They reached a simple wooden door. Garrison creaked it open, peeking through before dragging her through it.
The decorations switched from plain to ornate in the blink of an eye. Rich silks, portraits, and tapestries adorned every bit of wall. Fine woven rugs softened their steps.
Garrison stopped in front of a massive red door. He slipped a key into the lock and hurried her into Terayan’s receiving salon. He tossed Rayna to the ground and reached into his pocket for a second handkerchief.
Rayna smiled. He was probably worried about getting blood on Terayan’s floors
Garrison’s lip twisted in disgust. “What do you have to smile about?”
“You.” Rayna sat herself on the nearest couch. “You act like you’re this great marauder, but you’re nothing but Terayan’s errand boy.”
Garrison exhaled, pocketing his bloodied silk handkerchief. “Perhaps, but I’d rather work for Terayan than any of the other ponces who ran this country.”
“Why?” With Garrison, the best strategy was to keep him talking. She could take stock of her resources in the meantime.
Garrison helped himself to some of the Councilor’s wine. “Because he wasn’t born a nobleman like the rest of them. You wouldn’t know it to look at him today, but he’s lowborn.”
“Lowborn?” It was not a term Rayna had heard in Fenear, or in her travels.
Garrison laughed. “I forget how savagely stupid you Fenearens are. I mean to say he wasn’t born to privilege.”
“And you weren’t either?” Rayna noted a cheese knife next to the plate of refreshments beside Garrison. She could try to get it, but even if she succeeded, it would not be enough to defeat Garrison, let alone Terayan. If she failed, Channon and the others would pay the price. She had to keep her head.
Garrison took a long drink of wine. “Do you know what my surname means, Rayna?”
“Garrison? It means a group of soldiers.”
“Aye.” Garrison poured himself another glass. “Odd name, is it not?”
“All Kyrean names sound odd to me.” The more he drank, the better chance she had at surprising him. Maybe, if she stole his sword, she could surprise Terayan, too. Then she need not worry about any evil spell.
“Garrison,” he said the words slowly, hatefully. “It isn’t a name so much as an insinuation—a slur, meant to brand me for life.”
“I don’t understand. Don’t Kyreans take their father’s surname?” An odd custom, Rayna had thought. In Fenear a woman took her surname from her mother’s name, and a man from his father’s.
“Yes, which creates a problem when your mother isn’t sure who your father is.”
“I—How—?”
“You see, Garrison, is the surname given to children borne of the Garrison. That is to say, the children of camp-followers like my mother who sell themselves to any soldier willing to pay.” Garrison drained his glass.
“Why should that affect you, though?” Rayna asked. “Those were your mother’s choices, and your father’s.”
Garrison laughed. “Don’t be so naive, Rayna. It doesn’t suit you. My surname might as well be whoreson, or bastard. It isn’t easy to make a name for yourself, with a name like that.”
“Why not change it?”
Garrison shook his head. “I refuse to bow to the opinions of lesser men. Why change to suit your enemies, when you can crush them instead? Terayan understands that.”
“Maybe.” Rayna stood. It was now or never. She would go for the cheese knife. “Or maybe he’s using you.” She came to stand in front of Garrison. She gestured to the wine.
He eyed her. “I’ll say this, Rayna, you’re no coward.” He poured the wine.
Rayna leaned against the table, as casually as she could manage. Her tied hands eased toward the knife.
Garrison clasped her hands, drawing them back. “But you are a fool.” He dropped the wine and pushed her to the ground.
Rayna cried as he pinned her arms over her head. She struggled against his weight, but with her wolf locked away and her head still spinning, she could not break free.
“You said Terayan was using me.” He whispered into her ear.
She flinched away from his bristles as they scratched her skin. He reeked of alcohol.
“Of course he is. That’s all people do—use each other.” He brought one hand to her cheek, stroking it. “If you’re going to be used either way, you might as well choose who does the using. That is, when you’re given a choice.” He squeezed her chin, forcing her to look at him.
“Garrison!” Terayan’s sharp voice cut across the room like a whip.
Garrison released her, coming to attention.
Rayna scrambled into a crouch. Her breath came in ragged bursts.
“Leave us,” Terayan commanded.
“Yes sir.” Garrison moved toward the exit. He glanced back, “Councilor, I was wondering if, after you were finished—”
“Out, Garrison.”
“Yes, sir, of course.” The door shut behind him, leaving Rayna and Terayan alone in his salon.
A beat of silence passed.
Terayan watched Rayna.
She was too disturbed by her encounter with Garrison to move.
He extended his right hand. He snapped his fingers with the other and her bounds fell away.
She stood on her own, ignoring his proffered hand. “Do your worst,” she said with far more confidence than she felt.
“My worst?” Terayan pursed his lips. “What is it you think I intend to do with you?”
He was sick—leaving her in suspense, and forcing her to guess his intentions.
She flushed with anger and averted her gaze.
“Ah.” He turned away, picking up the fallen wine goblet. “I hope you don’t think me so base as that, Rayna.”
His offhand demeanor sparked her
rage further. “You had me kidnapped and abused. You tried to drown me in my own blood. You nearly drove me mad with fractured visions. I think you’re vile.”
“I understand.” He gestured to the cheese board. “Are you hungry? I could have something else brought up, meat or—”
“What is this? What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to apologize.” Terayan poured himself the last of the wine. “Evidently I'm not doing a very good job.”
“Apologize?” Rayna sat down on the couch, confusion overtaking her anger. “You had me dragged here, threatened to murder my friends, and now you’re apologizing?”
“You must be very confused, I understand. What if I made you a promise not to lie to you anymore? You can ask any questions you like, and I will only answer with honesty.”
“Why would I believe a word you say?”
“Despite what you may think, I am a man of my word. I promise you honesty, in return, all I ask is the same from you. Do we have an understanding?”
“Fine.” She could not understand Terayan’s game, but she had to try to find answers when she could. At first, she thought to ask him about what he told Kellan—what he meant about Channon playing a role. But to put words to that meant acknowledging the possibility there was any truth to the taunt.
She refused to believe that Channon was working with Terayan in any way. Instead, she sought to piece together Terayan’s actions over the past year.
“You tried to kill me multiple times last year. So why am I not dead now?”
“Last year, I believed you to be a threat. I sought to remove the twice-blessed seers, because I feared they would stand in the way of my plans. The choice to begin with you was not a personal one. I knew I could not get to Marielana in Alvorn, and the Maenoren seer was no threat at the time.”
“Morna Helena?”
“Indeed. She was completely in Rhael’s power. I saw no threat in her. The Soulousian and Fenearen seers, on the other hand, were wild cards. I began my search with you because I saw an opportunity in Rhael’s ambition. He was to find the seer discretely, bring her to Maenor, allow my emissaries to confirm her identity, and then kill her.”
“You had him kidnap me under the guise of diplomacy, but why would he take such a risk for you?”
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