by Jordan Rivet
Sora turned to the remaining guards, who were either gaping at the doorway or at Kel standing by the dais. “Leave us.”
“Are you certain, my queen?” Yuri said. “It’s late, and—”
“Out.”
“Yes, my queen.”
The guards spun on their heels and hurried for the door. A few looked as if they wanted to pat Kel on the back and congratulate him for not being dead, but one look from Sora warned them not to delay.
She managed to wait until the doors slammed shut behind them before running forward to throw her arms around Kel. She barreled into him with such force that he toppled backward onto the steps of the dais, but she couldn’t let go. The shock of the previous few minutes seemed to be settling into her joints, locking them tight.
“Easy there,” he said with a gentle chuckle. “My neck kind of hurts.”
“Did you know Corren was going to do that?” Sora demanded, pulling back just enough to examine the thin burn mark running all the way around Kel’s throat.
“No one was as surprised as me when the Fire didn’t go all the way through,” Kel said. “I wondered if I was a ghost.”
Sora drew a shuddering breath. She admired Kel’s presence of mind in thinking to fall to the ground to distract Lima, but it had been one of the very worst moments of her life. She still felt as if she didn’t quite inhabit her own body. She could be whizzing around the ceiling like a Fireblossom for all she could tell.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have known she would go after you when we took the Fire Guild.”
“We both knew she’d come for me eventually,” Kel said. “Really, I’m surprised it took her this long given how theatrically I threatened her life.”
“She’s been saving this move,” Sora growled. “She knew hurting you would be the worst possible thing she could do to me. Bitch.”
“Your Highness! I’ve never heard a queen use such language before.”
“She deserves it.”
“Fair enough.” Kel brushed a curl back from Sora’s forehead, and she finally remembered she was lying on top of him, pinning him to the dais steps in a way that was surely uncomfortable.
She started to get up, but he tightened his hold around her waist with one hand, the other twining deeper into her hair. Suddenly, it was as if she had been thrust back into her own skin. Every nerve ending came alive at once, and she felt every inch of her body pressed against his.
“Don’t get up,” he said, his voice as soft as a touch.
Sora’s cheeks warmed, and she was glad for the darkness in the vast room. “I was thinking of staying here for the rest of my life, actually.”
“That suits me nicely,” Kel said, his voice growing a little hoarse. “As long as I can stay with you.”
And he drew her face down to meet his.
7.
Darkwood
THE thunk of steel striking wood rang through the forest. Dara retreated a few feet then lunged, adding another check mark to the battered stump. Sweat plastered her hair to her forehead. They’d been traveling in the Darkwood for three days, each one hotter than the last. They stayed deep in the forest to avoid detection by Khrillin’s scouts, moving north as quickly as they could with the dense trees and uneven ground impeding their progress.
They still didn’t know when—or if—Selivia would bring the true dragon to them. According to Vine’s latest information, the princess was no longer stuck atop the Rock, but it didn’t sound as though she’d actually convinced the dragon to fly south. Rumy was still missing too. Dara struck the stump again, attempting to fend off her frustration. They were running out of time to intercept her father before he reached Soole. As far as they knew, he was still burning his way through Trure. She felt drawn toward him, pulled by the prospect of a terrible confrontation. Yet even if she met him in these woods today, she didn’t have a single drop of magic left to wield.
Dara channeled her nervous energy into extra dueling sessions. Siv had tried to stop her from training on the first morning. He’d babbled about how much she needed to rest and how Vine would have his hide if she exerted herself unnecessarily. Dara had given him a level stare and begun her customary hundred lunges anyway.
She lunged one last time, and the tip of her blade sank deep into the coal-dark wood. She yanked it back out and straightened, pushing her sweat-damp hair out of her eyes. She still felt a little shaky after her encounter with Khrillin’s Watermight wall, but she enjoyed tackling the weakness through the steady rhythm of her training. The heat and humidity made every movement more taxing, which suited her nicely.
Dara turned from her mutilated tree stump to find Vex Rollendar watching her. His red coat hung open, and a bead of sweat dripped down his long, straight nose. Dara’s hand tightened involuntarily on her sword hilt.
“What?”
“Your form is excellent,” he said calmly. “May I see your weapon?”
Dara looked him up and down, not bothering to hide her skepticism. Vine still insisted that she and Vex were desperately in love, but he had been Dara’s enemy for too long for her to accept that without question. Siv, on the other hand, had seemed almost friendly with Vex ever since they fled Pendark. She wondered what had happened on their frantic ride through the city to reassure him of Vex’s trustworthiness.
“I will return it,” Vex said, apparently sensing Dara’s hesitation. His voice didn’t hold the mocking tone she had heard so often from his nephew Bolden. “I promise.”
She handed the Savven blade over to him at last.
Vex took the sword reverently and turned it in his long fingers, admiring the curve of the night-black hilt, the balance and sharpness of the blade, the sheer beauty of it. He spun into a neat lunge, slicing another mark on the tree stump.
“Beautiful.” He stood and ran his finger along the edge of the blade, not quite hard enough to draw blood. “It’s a Savven, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“Where did you get it?”
“From Siv,” Dara said, “after the first time your brother tried to have him killed.”
Vex snorted. “Was that before or after your father murdered King Sevren?”
Dara didn’t answer. She met his eyes steadily, wishing she hadn’t agreed to give him a chance for Vine’s sake. Vex had trained the secret army of duelists that had killed so many of her friends. He’d been allied with Dara’s father—until Rafe turned on his brother Von—and then with Commander Brach. Dara, at least, had never believed her father was in the right. She also didn’t switch sides so easily.
Vex held her gaze, no more willing to break eye contact first than she was. She regretted handing him her sword. No doubt he’d happily kill another Ruminor on his way to destroying her father. His desire for revenge against the man who killed his brother couldn’t have been plainer if he’d shouted it in her face. Even after everything her father had done, she still hoped to stop him without actually killing him. Otherwise, what was the point of her being the one to confront him in the end? But Vex was in it for vengeance.
They continued to stare at each other, the tension stretching as taut as a bowstring—until Siv sauntered over and threw an arm around each of their shoulders.
“How are my two favorite duelists faring?” he said jovially. “I wouldn’t mind a bout if either of you wants to join me. I’m still rusty after my tenure as a champion knifeman.”
“I’ll do it.” Dara disentangled herself from his arm and snatched her sword back. It made her nervous when Vex and Siv sparred each other.
“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” Siv said. “You had a rough—”
“I’ve had enough rest,” Dara said. “Has there been any word from Sel?”
“Nothing you want to hear.” Siv still had his arm slung casually over Vex’s neck, and the sight made her grimace.
“Rest is good for you, you know,” Siv continued, apparently misinterpreting her expression. “Maybe you should have a seat before
Vine skins me alive. She ordered me to make sure you got plenty of time to recuperate.”
Dara raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be the king here?”
“That’s what they keep telling me.” Siv released Vex and gave a theatrical shrug. “I know better than to contradict Vine—especially when she speaks sense.”
Vex made a sound in his throat that was suspiciously close to a chortle. Siv grinned at him.
“Are we going to duel or not?” Dara said quickly. She didn’t need Vex and Siv becoming any chummier than they already were.
“As you wish.” Siv led the way to a clearing where light broke through the thick canopy, illuminating a makeshift dueling ground. Captain Lian and one of his men were just finishing a bout. They sprawled out on the soft moss to watch Dara and Siv.
The thirty-odd soldiers from Pendark did not seem to blame Dara for failing to rescue more of their number from Khrillin’s attack. Apparently, they thought the fact that any of them had survived was little short of miraculous. Still, Dara couldn’t help feeling that she should have fought better. She wouldn’t fail again.
She traded her Savven for a blunt practice blade and assumed her guard stance. Siv saluted, then winked at her. Vex took up the judge’s position at the side of the strip.
“On guard.”
Latch joined Lian on the ground, quickly followed by Rid and Detsin, who had been practicing staff fighting on the opposite side of the clearing.
Vex raised his hands. “Ready?”
A few more men gathered to watch. They were endlessly curious about the exiled king and his sword-fighting, Watermight-and-Fire-Wielding lady friend. Dara blocked them all out, concentrating on the angle of Siv’s blade, the distance between their boots. Focus.
“Duel!”
Siv advanced, sword raised, and Dara met his attack stroke for stroke. His skills had improved during his travels. Breaking through his defenses was harder than it used to be, and he took fewer senseless risks. The scars he bore had taught him painful lessons. For her part, Dara had become a more dynamic fighter. She found herself taking more risks, more rapid strikes that left her open but created opportunities for her own hits to land. Sometimes taking a desperate risk was the only way to achieve victory.
The clearing rang with the clang of blade against blade and the cheers of their onlookers. Before long, the men and the Darkwood faded away. Dara knew only the warmth of the weapon in her hand, the churn of her boots in the dirt, and the flash of Siv’s eyes as he met her attacks.
Time didn’t matter as Dara and Siv dueled. The score didn’t matter. The uneven ground and the sweat on their backs couldn’t slow them. For a few precious minutes, they were back in the dueling hall on King’s Peak, where nothing existed but the pulse of the duel, the rush of competition, the simplicity of blade against blade.
Vex kept score, but they barely listened. Neither one called for a break when they passed ten, fifteen, twenty hits. Dara refused to let on that she was tired, even when her muscles trembled. Siv remained equally committed to the duel, even though he had only wanted a casual practice bout. He had lost the lazy indolence that used to frustrate her when they began training together so long ago.
Suddenly, a shout broke through the trees, interrupting their match.
“Halt!” Vex called. “Someone’s coming.”
Dara and Siv stopped fighting as one and turned toward the perimeter where the scouts had shouted the warning. Footsteps crashed in the woods, but the shadowy depths revealed nothing.
“To arms!” Captain Lian snapped, rousing the erstwhile spectators. “Don’t just sit there. Pick up your weapons!”
Dara and Siv’s eyes met for a split second, and they leapt into motion. Dara retrieved her Savven as the footsteps neared, filtering ominously through the forest. She couldn’t tell how many men were approaching. Had Khrillin found them? Captain Lian’s soldiers snatched up their own swords and formed a protective ring around Dara and Siv.
The footsteps ceased abruptly. All was quiet for a moment. Then a shriek came through the trees.
“What was that?” Detsin demanded.
“Where are the scouts?”
The screeching sound came again, nearer this time.
One of the men gasped. “It’s coming closer!”
But Dara’s shoulders relaxed, and she lowered her blade. “I know that sound.”
Movement flickered in the shadows, then Rumy the cur-dragon emerged through the trees. He trundled up to the assembled fighting men, looking as calm as if he were out for a stroll.
“At ease,” Siv called to the men. “He’s with me.”
Rumy snorted and sat back on his haunches in front of the group, looking pleased with himself as the soldiers lowered their weapons—some only by a few inches.
“Where have you been, you scamp?” Siv said. “I was worried about you.”
Rumy squawked and jerked his head in the direction of the woods. The men tensed as more figures appeared through the gloom.
The first person to break through the trees and into the light was Gull Mornington, sharp eyed and as lean as the blade she carried at her hip. Fiz Timon crashed into the clearing after her, his bulk making enough noise for three men. Two perimeter scouts walked on either side of the new arrivals, looking wary. The scouts mostly seemed worried about Fiz, though Gull was just as dangerous with steel in her hand.
“We’re not here to fight,” Gull said, casting an unimpressed eye over the two dozen men all pointing weapons at her. Vex looked especially tense. He’d received a grave wound from Gull a few months back. “You can lower all that pretty cutlery.”
“Why should we believe you?” Siv said.
“Your lizard buddy believed us when we told him we wanted to talk to you.”
Siv snorted. “Rumy’s not a great judge of character. Did Kres send you? He and Khrillin were awfully cozy last time I saw him.”
“You see Kres anywhere?” Gull said. “We’re not joined at the hip.”
“Why are you here then?” Siv asked.
“We have a warning for Latch,” Fiz said. “You all right there, Latch?”
Latch grunted.
“Good to hear.”
Gull turned to her old teammate. “Khrillin knows the details of the little secret you’ve been keeping. Now that he’s the king, people are only too willing to report on conversations they overheard while you were staying in the King’s Tower.”
Latch swore under his breath, and Dara was tempted to imitate him. They had enough problems with overambitious Wielders without more of them learning how to carry Watermight far from the sea.
“The good news,” Gull continued, “is that Khrillin won’t bother chasing you people though the Darkwood now.”
“He’ll just let us go?” Siv asked.
“I imagine he’ll march on Fort Brach directly.” Gull kept her eyes on Latch, who looked like he might punch someone in the throat. “That’s why we came.”
Fiz nodded solemnly. “Being the strongest Waterworker in Pendark and the gutterborn king won’t be enough for him.”
“Wait, why would he go to Fort Brach?” Detsin said. “I’m confused. What is this secret?”
“Let’s step aside for this conversation,” Siv said quickly. “Captain Lian, would you join us?” He turned to the two pen fighters. “Gull, Fiz, I appreciate the information. I hope you don’t mind if I consult my advisors in private?”
“Whatever you say, princeling,” Fiz said with a chuckle. He and Gull strolled across the clearing, still under the watchful eyes of the scouts.
Captain Lian ordered his soldiers to give them space. A few moved in to question Rid about the cryptic news the two pen fighters had brought. Dara trusted him not to say too much. Far too many people knew Latch’s secret already.
Siv beckoned for Dara, Latch, Captain Lian, and—to Dara’s chagrin—Vex to join him in a smaller circle. There was no sign of Vine, who must be off attempting to gather information f
rom her Air Sensor contacts. Rumy nosed his way into the little circle, fishing for attention.
“Khrillin knows about the dragons,” Latch said as soon as the smaller group convened. “He’ll want them for himself, the rock-eating bastard.”
“Why can’t anyone stay in their own kingdoms where they belong?” Siv muttered, scratching Rumy on the head.
“This doesn’t really change anything,” Dara said. “Except that we can stop sneaking through the woods and take the main road straight to Trure to find my father.”
“I agree with Dara,” Vex said. “The Lantern Maker is our primary enemy. We needn’t be sidetracked by Khrillin now.”
Siv frowned, and Dara was surprised to see him give her a vaguely disappointed look. “Khrillin may not bother with us now,” he said, “but we can’t let him get those dragons from the Brachs.” He turned to Latch. “It’s my fault that secret was ever spoken aloud in the first place. I am truly sorry.”
A muscle jumped in Latch’s jaw, and he didn’t respond. Latch may have left his home and family, but he was clearly upset by this news. Still, they couldn’t take their eyes off the target.
“We can’t do anything about Khrillin,” Dara said. She couldn’t deal with another Waterlord encounter when she still wasn’t sure how to prevail over her father. Their narrow escape had only increased her doubt that she would ever be a match for him. “It might be years before he tries anything anyway.”
“Let me get this straight,” Latch said. “Khrillin knows the great secret of the Brachs, and you just want to ignore him?”
Siv raised a hand toward his friend. “Latch—”
“I’ve risked everything for you.” Latch whirled to face Siv. He was shorter and broader in the shoulders, making them evenly matched. “It’s time to return the favor. My mother and siblings are vulnerable. We have to protect them.”
“I’m not sure there’s anything we can do,” Siv said. “Maybe the Soolen royal—”
“They won’t help the Brachs. Not after what my father did.” Latch’s scowl deepened, and Dara’s hand strayed to her sword hilt. “You convinced me to share the secret. We discussed it too freely in the King’s Tower. You owe me your assistance.”