Though he’d braced himself for it, the shockwave from the Crossing’s activation kicked him forward a step. Only reflexes saved Leovar’s life, though a fresh cut did slice its way along the younger man’s jaw.
Jarlyth heard voices yelling and praying all around him and hoped none of the men returned to violence in their terror. He ran across the distance separating him from his charge, feeling as if each step took moons, and scrambled up onto the platform, finding Nylan’s hands grabbing the back of his collar to help pull him up.
The boy’s arms were around his waist in a bruising embrace, and a muffled flurry of abuse stormed from his mouth. “—Told you not to leave me!” were the last of the words, said clearly as Nylan stepped back in order to glare up at him.
“I’m sorry, Highness.” Jarlyth smiled again.
“You should be!”
Nylan had his back to the Crossing and couldn’t see the sunlight blazing through from hundreds of posts away on the island of Feniss. It looked peaceful and wind-blown and just as it had been when last Jarlyth had seen it so many moons ago.
“Michael,” Leovar wailed, and Nylan turned a cold stare on the man. A volunteer stood over him, long-gun in hand. All the weapons seemed to now be in their allies’ hands, Jarlyth noted with grim satisfaction.
“What do I do now?”
Nylan’s right hand rested on the arch—giving or taking strength, Jarlyth didn’t know.
“Pray to Vail for mercy,” Nylan replied, his voice like ice. “I have none to give you. But pray hard. My mother’s name was Voyavel.” And with that, he turned and stepped through the Crossing, his cat at his heels.
Leovar collapsing in a dead faint was the last thing Jarlyth saw before he followed his prince home.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many thanks to Alix and Casey, the earliest readers of versions this novel, and to Andrea who read too many variations to count and gave great advice and critical notes along the way. Also, a huge debt of gratitude goes to beta readers Sharon, Rebecca, Randy, Molly, Caroline, Mike, and Vicki whose feedback was invaluable to shaping the final novel.
And finally, for her encouragement and pom-pom waving to keep going, my biggest thanks go to Lisa.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jenna Waterford lives in Chicago with two perfect cats and one somewhat helpless Roomba® and can be found online at jennawaterford.tumblr.com.
SanClare Black (The Prince of Sorrows) Page 38