Myron grunted. “I was thinking the same thing.” He swung his torch. “Go on! Get out of here!”
“You tell them, Captain!”
“Shut up, smith, and start using your magic to get us out of this mess!”
Ferrin grabbed for the transferal around his neck. It wasn’t there. He turned and almost caught the crystal in the face as Rae threw it at him. He grabbed for it but missed. The chain landed between him and the closest wolves. “Rot!” He edged forward slowly, keeping his sword up in case the wolves attacked.
The wolves hunched, their fur bristling, but instead of attacking, they backed up. They continued to growl, but none of them so much as moved toward them.
“What’s this?” Myron asked, looking just as astonished as Ferrin.
Ferrin leaned over and slowly reached out to grab the chain. He was close enough to pet one of the wolves. It snarled, but he held his ground. His fingers slipped around the chain, and he slowly pulled it back to him. He slipped it over his head and ever so carefully backed up to where Myron was standing.
“Have you ever seen wolves act like this?”
Ferrin shook his head. He could feel the stone around his neck activating, his magic coming alive. He could suddenly sense it all: the steel of the swords, the buckle of Myron’s belt, the chain holding the crystal, even the gold in their travel sacks. He could feel everything. But how was that going to help them against a pack of hungry wolves?
The animals started forward once again, but this time, their focus seemed to be on Myron, as they shifted right.
“Is it just me or do these things seem to like me more than you?” Myron swung his sword, missing the most daring by a few inches.
Ferrin moved to help him. He could feel the metal in his sword come alive as he thinned the core of the blade, stretching the metal to expand its reach and compensating for the change of balance by adding a bit more to the grip and pommel. “That’s better,” he said as he swung at the closest wolf. He clipped the animal, causing it to yelp and back off.
“How about helping a friend out over here?” Myron said as he moved closer to Ferrin.
Ferrin reached out with his magic and touched Myron’s blade, repeating the process.
The captain took a few test swings at the encroaching pack. “Oh, I like this!”
Behind them, the horses pounded the ground in fear, trying to break free and run. Ferrin could hear Rae fighting to hang on.
“Why aren’t they attacking?” Myron asked, panic in his voice. “What are they waiting for?”
“Move back,” Ferrin said. “We can’t let them separate us from Rae and—”
“Stop it!” a high-pitched voice shouted behind them.
The entire pack froze.
Ferrin turned far enough to see Suri crawling out of the crevice Rae had placed her in. She was still clutching her blanket.
She pointed her finger at the pack, scowling deeply. “You stop scaring my mama!”
The wolves slowly began to move back, stopping just in front of the fire to watch the little girl.
Suri started forward.
“No, Suri!” Rae cried. “Come back here!” Forgetting about the horses, Rae ran for her daughter, but as soon as she did, the wolves’ hackles rose again, and they started to growl.
“Stop it!” Suri said, reprimanding the animals with another cold stare and wag of her little finger. They immediately quieted. Some even sat. The largest of the pack stepped forward and pranced toward her.
Rae rushed forward in a panic. “Suri!”
Ferrin grabbed Rae and held her back. “Don’t spook them.” Ferrin was shaking almost as much as she was. Was he making the right decision? What if the wolf killed the little girl? Something inside told him to wait.
Suri didn’t move. She stood her ground as the huge animal closed in, its face level with hers.
What in the name of the Creator is going on?
“By the powers,” Myron whispered as they watched the enormous wolf stand toe to toe with the little girl and do nothing more than stare.
Suri reached for the wolf. Ferrin could feel Rae’s body trembling as the little girl gently laid her hand on top of its furry head. Instead of ripping her arm from its socket, the wolf tilted its head far enough for her to scratch behind its ears.
Realizing he’d been holding his breath the whole time, Ferrin exhaled.
The little girl giggled as she continued to rub the wolf’s head a moment longer, then she took a step back. “Now go home. Shoo,” she said with a wave of her hand. The wolf turned, and the pack followed him back down the small rise and into the trees beyond, disappearing into the night. No one moved as the little girl playfully skipped back to where Ferrin stood holding her mother.
Rae broke free of Ferrin’s grip and threw her arms around her daughter. “Are you all right? Why did you do that? You could have been killed!”
“No.” Suri shook her head adamantly. “They weren’t going to hurt us, Mama.”
“And how do you know?”
“They told me.”
“What do you mean, they told you?”
“The big one said they’d been told to keep us here but not to hurt us.”
“You could hear them talking, child?” Myron asked as he knelt beside her.
Suri looked up at him. “Can’t you?”
The others shared an awkward glance.
Rae released Suri, turned, and punched Ferrin in the chest. “Don’t ever do that again! Don’t ever try to keep me from my daughter.” She turned and marched Suri back up to where the horses were surprisingly still standing. Whatever Suri had done had somehow calmed them down as well.
It took Ferrin a moment to catch his breath from the unexpected punch. Once he did, he turned to Myron. “Pack your gear. We need to get out of here.”
Chapter 5 | Amarysia
AMARYSIA EMERGED FROM the queen’s chambers and gently closed the door, not wanting to disturb Ellise after she had finally managed to doze off. The queen was one of the strongest women Amarysia knew, but since the death of her husband, she had taken to spending more and more time alone in her chambers.
Amarysia couldn’t blame her. Ayrion’s death had her wanting to do the same. The halls felt emptier with him gone. She used to enjoy moving about the palace, hopeful for the chance to see him, even at a distance. She missed their talks, their walks through the gardens. Sometimes, she would watch him when he wasn’t looking. He was always so serious, giving out his orders, making sure his men were holding the standards he expected of them.
“We need to quit meeting like this,” a voice behind her said, causing her to jump, recognition twisting her stomach. She turned and found Prince Dakaran decked in his finest. He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips, holding it for an uncomfortable amount of time.
“You must forgive me,” he said. “Where are my manners?” Instead of releasing her hand, he cupped his over it. “You have suffered a great loss. The entire kingdom has. If you ever find yourself in need of someone to talk to, I want you to know you can come to me.”
She retracted her hand, then curtsied. “Thank you, Your Highness—”
“Actually,” he interrupted, “it’s Your Majesty.”
Amarysia bit her tongue and curtsied once again. “Of course . . . Your Majesty, my apologies.”
“Think nothing of it,” he said with a glib wave of his hand.
His smile was as repulsive as it was unwelcome. How did so many women find him charming? He turned and walked away, leaving her to pull herself together before making her way back to her own chambers.
She shut the door behind her and flipped the latch, taking a moment to lean back against the wood and gather her thoughts. Her feet hurt from standing for the last couple of hours while waiting on the queen. With a heavy sigh, she pushed off the door and crossed the room, retrieving her brush on the way to her bed. Brushing her hair was one of the best ways she knew to calm her nerves. Something about the way th
e bristles tugged softly on her scalp soothed her spirit.
The fire in the hearth to her left was warm and relaxing. She let it soothe her nerves as she tried to slowly release the pain of loss that had taken root. Then she noticed the vase of wilted flowers sitting on the mantel and started crying. They had been a gift from Ayrion on his last day before heading to war. She didn’t have the heart to toss them out, even though the petals had all but fallen off and the stems were hanging over the sides like willow branches.
She forced herself to look away, to try thinking of something else. She needed to see how Sedge was doing. It had been a week since she’d delivered any supplies to her brother. But with the changes that were happening in the palace at present, and having to be there for the queen, she was finding it difficult to get any free time to herself.
Laying her brush on the table beside her bed, she slipped out of her dress—making sure to drape it over the chair to keep it from wrinkling—then quickly hopped into bed and crawled under the heavy blankets.
She had just begun to doze when she was startled awake by what might have been a knock at the door. She waited a moment to see whether the knocking returned or if it had been the start of another restless dream.
She heard it again. Three short knocks.
“Just a moment,” she said, uncurling from her pillow and crawling out from under her heavy comforter. She shivered as her bare feet hit the floor. She grabbed her robe from its spot on the chest at the foot of her bed and put it on. Lighting one of the candles from her dresser, she headed across the room.
“Who is it?”
“I have a summons from Her Majesty Queen Ellise,” came the response from the other side. It sounded like one of the palace messengers, but Amarysia couldn’t understand why she would be getting a summons. She wondered if the queen had fallen into another fit of tears and needed further comforting. Amarysia wouldn’t have minded indulging in a little more herself. Holding up the candle, she unlocked the door and pulled back on the latch.
She’d barely managed to turn the handle when the door burst open and she was shoved backward into the room. A hand pressed against her mouth to keep her from crying out as the glint of steel reflected off a knife that went to her throat. The intruder kicked the door shut, hood pulled tight around their face.
Amarysia’s mind raced as she tried to make sense of what was going on. She thought it was a woman’s voice she’d heard, but maybe she had been wrong. The hand clamped around her mouth was strong. Was it Dakaran? She trembled at the thought. Surely he wouldn’t be so bold as to take her right in the palace with the queen so near. Then again, this was Dakaran, and with Ayrion gone, there was no telling what he might do.
She thought about fighting back and making a run for the door, then changed her mind as the edge of the blade pressed tighter. Any attempt at escaping now would end with her throat being slit. She didn’t want to suffer the indignity of being molested, but her instinct for preservation snuffed out any thoughts of trying to run or sacrificing herself as a martyr on the malefactor’s blade.
“What happened to Ayri?”
Amarysia blinked in confusion. “What?”
“What happened to Ayrion? Don’t make me ask again, hussy.”
Kira? Relief flooded in. At least she knew she wasn’t about to get raped before having her throat slit. The clan chief would just slit her throat and be done with it.
Kira released the knife from Amarysia’s neck and pulled back the hood from the black cloak. “Can I let go of your mouth, or will you do something stupid?” Kira looked down at her costume. “I just had these scrubbed this week, and I don’t want to stain them with your insides if I don’t have to.”
Amarysia glanced at Kira’s clothes and almost laughed. The fierce clan chief appeared to be wearing one of the maids’ uniforms: a long grey dress with a white apron over the top, and a white bonnet to hold in her hair.
“What are you doing here?” Amarysia asked, attempting to keep her voice civil, considering Kira was walking the tip of her blade across the back of her fingers. “How did you get past the guards?”
Kira walked over to snoop through the items on Amarysia’s dresser. “That’s easy. Ayri and I used to sneak into the palace all the time when we were kids. There’s an old access tunnel behind the—” She stopped and turned around. “Wait, why am I telling you this? Next thing I know, you’ll be running off to tell the queen and have it sealed up.” Kira pointed her knife at Amarysia. “Quit trying to change the subject. I want to know what happened to Ayri. There’ve been rumors all over the city. Rumors of his—” The chieftain couldn’t bring herself to say it, so she turned and started pacing in front of the fire. “And . . . And I needed to see for myself.”
Amarysia was more than a little surprised. Had living in the Warrens kept Kira oblivious to what was happening in the outside world? For the first time, she was starting to understand the depth of this woman’s feelings for Ayrion. And found herself jealous. Kira had gotten to know him as a child while living on the streets. They had depended on each other. Those bonds were strong. The woman’s presence was proof enough of that.
“The rumors are true,” she said, tears welling at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t want to send the knife-wielding woman into a fit of rage, but Kira deserved to know the truth.
Kira stopped pacing, but her dagger never did. It continued to spin around in her well-trained hands. “How’d he die? Was it a good death?”
Was it a good death? “Of course it wasn’t a good death! No death that takes Ayrion away from me is good! What kind of stupid question is that? What’s wrong with you?”
The knife stopped twirling. Kira was about as calm as a stampede of naked Northmen as she ran at her, crossing the room with the grace of a drakkar on the hunt. Even in her apron and bonnet, she was intimidating.
Amarysia stood her ground. The candle in her hand might have been shaking from fear, but she kept her face from showing it.
Kira stopped just short of plowing her over. She took a moment to look her in the eyes. “I see there is some fight in you yet, hussy. That’s good. You’ll need it. Now, you listen to me, and you listen good!” The tip of her blade pointed accusingly. “Ayrion was a warrior. And men like him deserve the honor of dying with sword in hand, not sucking their gums from a seat in front of the fire.”
Amarysia’s hands were balled tight as she fought back the urge to head-butt Kira in the nose. “You have no idea what Ayrion wanted!” she fired back. “Sure, he was a warrior, but he was so much more. He was a good man. He wanted a family, a home, like a normal person.” She hoped Kira caught the jibe. “And I would have given it to him.” Amarysia was unable to hold back the tears as a flood of emotions washed over her—things she had been too afraid to tell Ayrion when he was alive.
“I would have given him a home, given him children, given him my heart, but now—” She sobbed. “It’s all been taken away. Ayrion is gone, and I never even got a chance to tell him how I felt.”
Kira groaned and took a step back. “Stop your crying. It’s giving me a headache. It’s been a long time since Ayrion and I—” She sighed. “I’m sure he knew how you felt. Men are more observant than we often give them credit for. Well, some of them, anyway. I just figured if anyone would know what happened to him, it would be you.” Kira walked back over to the hearth and held out her hands. “Did Ayri tell you about our meeting after your little excursion into the Warrens?”
“What meeting?”
“He probably didn’t want you to worry.”
She wondered why he hadn’t told her.
“Ayrion had talked with the king about the disappearances and wanted to tell me what they had arranged. While he was there, I came on to him.” Kira paused, no doubt wanting to spur a reaction.
Amarysia didn’t give her one.
“Anyway, I told him no one would ever have to know. It would just be between me and him.” She didn’t say anything further.
> Knife or no knife, Amarysia was about ready to jump on the woman. “Well, go on! Tell me, then! You seem bent on destroying what good memories I have left.”
Kira smiled. “He refused me, didn’t even have the courtesy to think about it first. Just said no.” She huffed. It was a rather contrived effort at being upset. “Any guy who can turn this down,” she said, running a hand over her body, “is either celibate, married, or seriously not right in the head.”
Amarysia found herself smiling. Had she misjudged the gruff woman? Was there a softer side under that rigid exterior?
“Now stop your bawling and tell me what happened.”
Amarysia stiffened. Guess not.
She spent the better part of an hour relaying everything she had learned about Ayrion’s death: where, how, the circumstances surrounding it, the conflict with Cylmar’s overlord, the horrific creatures, even her conversation with the queen about how close Ayrion had been with her husband. She left nothing out.
Kira slunk onto the adjacent divan, leaning forward to let her elbows rest on her knees. “I don’t know what to think,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. And with the death of the High King, I dread what will happen to this kingdom. How someone as upright as Rhydan could have sired a half-wit, no-account drunk like Dakaran, I’ll never know.”
Amarysia almost smiled. Kira certainly had no problem speaking her mind.
“I’ve also heard rumors that Dakaran plans to get rid of the High Guard and replace them with guards from the White Tower.”
Amarysia’s attention perked. “I’ve heard nothing of that. Are you sure?”
“About as sure as I can be with anything regarding that twit.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me. But I doubt the queen would allow it.”
“Aren’t you the naïve one. Dakaran has already taken the throne. There’s little the Queen Mother can do. If I were you, I’d be looking for new accommodations.”
“I can’t leave the queen. If what you say is true, she’ll need me now more than ever.”
Plague of Shadows Page 4