Destroy her, his pyra ordered. If Nilsa shouted for help, they’d have a whole camp of Flameskins running after them.
“Out for an evening stroll?” Nilsa asked.
“Yes. Exactly.”
“During the change of guard?”
He stepped back, and his foot crunched through ice. Nilsa smiled as she prowled toward them.
“Were you really thinking of leaving, Kelan? You could’ve at least tried not to be so obvious about it.”
“Sol isn’t a soldier, she’s a huntress. She helped me find my way through the mountains and in return, I promised I’d get her to safety. Just let her leave peacefully.”
It was a gamble to tell something so close to the truth, but Nilsa wouldn’t let them go if she thought Sol was a deserter.
“A huntress? But she knows the location of our camp. We can’t just let her get away.”
“I won’t say anything,” Sol said. “Kelan is here, and I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“You’re staying, Kelan?” Nilsa asked, her eyebrows rising. “I was starting to think you’d leave us for the Hivid Wood.”
He let out a long sigh. “The Hivid haven is just a rumor. I’m staying here.” Because he had nowhere else to go. Because Sol loving him was an impossibility.
“And when Haldur finds out you helped her run away?”
“He won’t find out.”
“Is that a threat?” Nilsa asked. Her eyes danced with the fire inside her.
“I’m asking you as a favor to me to let her go. She doesn’t belong here.”
“So, she really is a huntress? And you lied about her being a mage. Gutsy.”
“I am a mage,” Sol said softly.
“You could join us,” Nilsa hissed.
“Please, Nilsa. Have you forgotten all those times I covered for you while you were out chewing flameweed?” Kelan asked.
Nilsa sighed, then gave them both a twisted smile. “You should go to the Tokkens and tell them where we are,” she told Sol. “It’s been weeks since I’ve been in a proper fight, and I’m itching to burn something.
“Be back before dawn, Kelan, or they’ll realize you’re gone. And if you don’t come back, I’ll hunt you down myself.”
He bowed. “Thank you.”
Sol grabbed Kelan’s hand and pulled him away into the forest.
Kelan and Sol stood on the edge of the city. The mountains rose behind them and Olisipo stretched before them. Chimney smoke choked the air, and dirty snow lined the streets and covered the brick buildings. It was a far cry from the beautiful open spaces and clear skies they were accustomed to. It was dark, but the starlight reflected off the snow on the gabled rooftops and the ice on the windows.
They both stood hesitantly at the edge of it all, caught between two worlds.
Kelan took her hand. He could barely speak. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.”
“After the war is over, I’ll come find you. I want to see you again.”
She swallowed, but didn’t reply. She wouldn’t meet his gaze.
Sol.
The girl he loved was slipping through his fingers, and there was nothing he could say or do that would make her stay with him. He had to return to the Flameskin camp tonight, and he couldn’t ask her to join them. But he wished there was a way forward for the two of them. He wished they could leave this place and never look back.
“I should go. Good luck, Kelan. And be safe.”
“Wait,” he said, his voice raw. He stepped in and kissed her long and deep, until his hands trembled, and his throat closed up.
When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. “Sol, I love you.”
She glanced up and her eyes were rimmed in red. Loving him was a death sentence for her. He knew that. There was no future for them.
“Goodbye, Kelan,” she whispered.
She turned and hurried toward the road, leaving him alone in the snow.
Kelan’s frozen heart shattered inside him. A thousand shards of Sol embedded in his chest, cutting him apart on the inside.
He braced himself against a tree as his knees gave out. He couldn’t understand how his heart could keep functioning, keep pumping blood and fire as though nothing had happened.
Sol was gone.
Chapter 29
Sol
Sol sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace, and her smelly, burned coat was draped around the back of a Cassian chair. She lifted her hands and drew them close to the fire. She’d rather have Kelan warm them for her.
All that was behind her now, but it would take a long time before she would stop missing him. She kept turning around, expecting to see him, and it left an empty ache inside her knowing that he’d never sit beside her again. She would lie alone tonight.
She had done the right thing, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier.
The door opened and she jerked upright. Two men marched into the room wearing pressed and decorated blue uniforms.
“Sit,” one of them ordered.
He was as big as an ox and pulled a chair up next to her and sat in it like a Cassian. She was amazed when the chair didn’t break beneath his weight.
“Have they given you food to eat?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, sinking uncomfortably into another chair.
“I’m Commander Jahr,” he said, and extended a hand. A Cassian greeting.
Sol shook it and unease settled over her. Should she have kept up her ruse as a man, pretending to be her father? The soldiers had been confused when she had arrived. But if she was going to spend the entire season with the garrison, it would’ve been impossible to keep that a secret for so long.
“I’m Sol, Huntress of Hillerod.”
Jahr nodded. “I thought they hired a hunter. Elo d’Hillerod?”
“My father.”
“I see. And where is he?”
“Dead a year now. I am the only hunter in Hillerod, and I traveled with Lady Isabella through the pass from Skive.”
“And are you going to tell me where Lady Isabella is now?”
She bit her cheek and exhaled slowly. “She’s . . . dead, sir.”
Sol told him everything. She told him about the successful attack on the Flameskin troop, and about the avalanche and how it had buried their party beneath a mountain of snow. She told them how she had traveled the rest of the way through the snow without food, and how Baarka had been burned.
But she mentioned nothing of Kelan. Telling the Tokken garrison about the location of the Flameskin camp would mean Kelan’s death. It was a betrayal to her country, but she couldn’t put Kelan in danger.
As proof of everything she had told them, she gave Jahr the seal of Lady Isabella’s house that she had cut from one of Isabella’s dresses.
Jahr rubbed his face with a huge hand. “Ashes and cinders.”
“I’m sorry, sir. There was nothing I could do for them.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. Pa would’ve known to watch for avalanches. Had he still been alive, Lady Isabella would be, too.
But Kelan would be dead. Pa would’ve killed him.
“I knew we shouldn’t have let Isabella go so late in the season, but what were we to do? There were too many Flameskins in the mountains waiting to kill her if she left any earlier. Sending her at all was sending her to her death. And we all knew that,” Jahr said.
“But what do we do now?” the thin lieutenant asked. “Without the marriage we won’t get the Cassian troops we need. We won’t be able to defend ourselves once the snow melts. The Flameskins will burn everything.”
“Prince Turullius won’t be pleased. The wedding is already planned for three weeks from now, and we need those troops.”
The lieutenant cocked his head and eyed Sol. “What if it was Lady Isabella who had survived, instead of the huntress?”
Sol sighed. “I would’ve saved her if I could, but I—”
“No,” the lieutenant said, “I mean, Prince Turu
llius hasn’t met Isabella. He doesn’t know what she looks like. He only knows he’s getting a Tokken bride.”
Jahr stared at Sol. “She’s pure Tokken. It’s obvious in her face. And those green eyes. She’s the right age, and she’s pretty enough.”
Sol turned from one man to the other. What were they talking about?
“No one’s coming through the pass for the rest of the season,” the lieutenant said, “and by the time winter’s over, they’ll be married, and the Cassian troops will already be in the pass on their way to Skive.”
Sol stood from her chair so fast she knocked it over. Her heart thumped fast in her chest. “No.”
“Think what an opportunity we’re offering you,” Jahr said. “Prince Turullius as your husband? You would never want again. Your family would be well taken care of.”
“I can take care of them myself.”
Jahr frowned. “Isn’t your village on the way to Skive? When the Flameskin armies arrive this spring, they’ll pass through and burn it to the ground, like they did to Baarka. If you don’t marry Turullius, you’re sentencing innocent people to die at the hands of the demon army.”
“I’d rather fight the demons with my own two hands than marry some foreign prince.”
Jahr scowled at her. “You think Lady Isabella wanted to leave her home? We all must make sacrifices to protect the ones we love.”
Sol braced herself with one hand against the wall as her head spun. “But what happens in the spring when people come to visit Isabella and they realize I’m not her?”
“We’ll already have the troops we need by that time.”
“But what will happen to me?” she asked, her voice shrill.
This was too much to ask. Would they expect her to live in some bloated manor eating rice cakes and wearing ridiculous silk dresses? She needed the mountains. She needed the silence and the solitude of the woods. She needed her freedom.
And she needed Kelan.
She shook her head, trying to rid her mind of that thought, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Kelan’s brilliant smile, those turquoise eyes, and the touch of his fiery skin.
“I think Isabella’s father will understand,” Jahr said. “He’s supportive of the war. It’s possible we can convince him to keep this quiet, but even so, I don’t know if Turullius will care. All he wants is a pretty bride and access to the trade routes Isabella’s family controls.”
“So, I’m to be sold off to some prince, so you can have your soldiers?”
“Who knows,” Jahr said. “Maybe you’ll become the queen of Cassia. Any Cassian prince is eligible to become king, even a prince over such a small city as Olisipo. We’re doing you a favor, Huntress.”
“Wait,” Sol said. This was happening too fast. Her head was reeling. “Saint Katrine. She’s arrived in Tokkedal. If she comes, the Flameskin Army will be destroyed.” Along with Kelan.
Jahr frowned. “I heard she was in Omdren with the other Saints.”
“She’s come back.”
“How do you know this?”
Sol bit her lip and searched for a lie. “The Flameskin soldiers told us they had just received word Saint Katrine had arrived.”
“Even if Saint Katrine is in Tokkedal, she won’t make it to the mountains in time. We need the Cassians to march before the snow melts, or we won’t have a chance to stop them. We need you to be Lady Isabella.”
“But I just want to go home,” she said, her voice small.
“To watch your village burn? You’d rather let the demons kill your family?”
She shuddered and closed her eyes. No. Of course she didn’t want that.
But what kind of a choice was this?
Chapter 30
Kelan
Kelan woke from a groggy sleep. He turned over, searching for the shape of Sol in the blankets beside him, but he was alone, and he lay in a bed. His half-remembered dreams of snow and Sol melted as he sat up and rubbed his scratchy cheek.
Sol was gone.
But he was clean, and had new clothes, and he wasn’t starving for once. He stumbled out of the bed and into the common room of their rented house. Commander Haldur had brought him to Olisipo to meet with the spies and to search for the deserter.
Kelan had pled ignorance of Sol’s disappearance, and Nilsa had kept quiet.
Sol was free now.
A couple officers sat by the fireplace, their voices low. They stood and saluted when Kelan entered the room.
Kelan nodded sleepily and dropped into a chair. He sighed. Sol was free, but he was not. He’d never be rid of the army.
“You got anything to shave with?” Kelan asked.
One of the men pointed out a cracked mirror and shaving implements on the other side of the room.
“So, what’re we doing in Olisipo now that Isabella’s dead?” he asked as he trimmed and shaved his unruly beard. The blade nicked his skin, but he was too afraid to use his pyra to seal the cut. And he couldn’t use his emberstone in front of the other soldiers.
“We were gathering information on Prince Turullius’ household, planning to infiltrate and kill Lady Isabella if you didn’t kill her in the pass. Now we’ll wait here until spring and make sure Turullius doesn’t send those troops through.”
Kelan splashed cold water on his face and steam fogged the mirror. Back to burning villages and blue-coated soldiers in the name of justice.
Yesss. Fire. Burning. His pyra simmered in his blood. Now that his wound was almost healed, his pyra could dedicate more energy on attacking his mind. It jabbed and prodded him, searching for weakness.
The door of their house burst open and Haldur strode in. “Lady Isabella’s alive.”
The soldiers around the fire jumped up in alarm, and Kelan whirled around. “What? But that’s impossible. She was killed in the avalanche. There’s no way she survived.”
Haldur could no longer feel anger, since he was extinguished, but there was a tightness about his features that spoke of his displeasure. “There’s going to be a bridal procession today, and they’re going to parade her through the streets before they present her to the prince.”
Kelan ran a hand through his hair. “But I don’t understand. We barely made it out ourselves. How is this possible?”
“We’re leaving for the parade now,” Haldur said. “You’re going to identify her, and then we’re going to kill her.”
Kelan stood among the shivering crowd with his eyes fixed on the procession. Lady Isabella had survived? But how? Going without a daily bath had been a struggle for her. There was no way she had survived in the rugged wilderness like he and Sol had. How had she found the path leading through the mountains? Without Sol, Kelan would’ve been lost, and he would’ve starved as well.
The bridal procession was preceded by dozens and dozens of Tokken soldiers on horseback. Their coats were the blue of the sky and had been pressed and cleaned. Kelan sank into his new, nondescript gray coat, and kept one wary eye on the soldiers as they passed. Would Sol be among them, or would they have her waiting on Lady Isabella?
If she were in the carriage with Isabella, she might get hurt. He couldn’t stop Haldur from killing Isabella, but he could stop him from hurting Sol. He wouldn’t let his uncle take the shot unless it would be a clean one, and only if Sol wasn’t sitting too close to Isabella.
If Sol saw the fire, would she think it had been him? Would she call him Demon again? Would she hate him for being a part of it?
But if Isabella survived, it would mean death for him and everyone back at his camp.
He swore under his breath and rubbed the back of his neck. Sol was right to leave him. There was no situation in which he could win. It was fight or die or give himself over to possession.
The carriage turned the corner and Kelan stood on tiptoe to get a better look. It was an open carriage with two fine white horses in front and a driver behind them. Three Tokken women sat side by side in the carriage. Their faces were still indistinct at this distance,
and they wore similar outfits of white furs, but the woman in the center had a painted face and her hair was done up and pinned with gold clips.
“That one must be Isabella,” Haldur said.
He pushed through the crowd with Kelan behind him.
Kelan squinted at the women in the carriage. They sat too close together. If Sol was in the carriage, he wasn’t letting Haldur attack her.
The carriage drew closer. Lady Isabella turned her face toward Kelan, and he gaped at her. No makeup could’ve concealed who she was. Isabella’s eyes met his in the crowd and she stiffened. She mouthed his name with her rouged lips, her eyes wide.
He stared at her, unable to comprehend what he saw.
But this was Sol. Sol the Huntress. He had seen Lady Isabella riding on her horse through the pass, and she was surely dead.
Uncle Haldur touched the emberstone hidden beneath his coat and gathered fire around his fist.
“Wait,” Kelan said, yanking his arm down.
“Flameskins!” Sol yelped. She ducked into the bottom of the carriage and pulled the other two girls down with her.
Haldur swore as fire flew from his hand and sailed over the carriage, missing Sol’s face and hitting a building on the other side of the street.
The crowd screamed and scattered. Kelan was frozen in place, staring at Sol’s carriage. But . . . . All those stories she had told him about her village, about her pa, all that had been a lie?
“Move!” Haldur shouted and grabbed Kelan’s arm.
He awakened from his daze with a gasp as Haldur dragged him through the throng and into the streets of Olisipo. Tokken soldiers pushed through the crowd behind them as Haldur led Kelan on a twisting path through the city.
They slipped into an alley, where two Tokkens blocked their path. Haldur released two quick bursts of fire, and flames exploded in the soldiers’ chests before the men had a chance to draw their swords. They jumped over the bodies and Kelan ran with his uncle through Olisipo until they could no longer hear the shouts and the pounding footfalls of the soldiers’ boots.
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