Which leaves Griffin and me. Beta Team, and especially Carver, can take over his responsibilities to the army, but we can’t trust just anyone with a secret mission to shore up my magic. Soldiers will help us invade Fisa, but my lightning is what we really need in order to face my mother.
Of course, we get constant arguments from the people we’re leaving behind.
“You don’t need me here,” Bellanca insists, glancing around our impressive new army encampment on the outskirts of Kitros.
“We do,” I say. “You’ll help with organizing, recruiting, and training. The army is Beta Team’s main responsibility now.”
“Alpha Team,” Bellanca corrects, although she looks pleased that I included her in the group.
I shrug. It’ll always be Beta Team to me.
“You and Griffin are our main responsibility,” Kato argues.
Griffin shakes his head. “We need you here. Too many people are arriving daily.”
The ranks keep swelling with new soldiers, both Sintan and Tarvan. Even a few Fisans are starting to trickle in. Thalyrians.
“Then take some other people. Good, trained soldiers,” Flynn urges.
Griffin and I both continue to balk at the idea.
“I really don’t want anyone to know about this,” I say. We haven’t even brought Anatole, Nerissa, Jocasta, and Kaia into the loop, even though we visit them regularly. They’re at Castle Tarva, spearheading civilian projects and working in tandem with Egeria to bring Sinta’s new benefits east into our expanded territory.
Griffin agrees with me. “If word gets out that Cat’s magic is unreliable, it could rattle the army, and even undermine confidence in our rule.”
“Or Mother could hear of it,” I add. “The last thing we want is her getting wind of our destination.”
There are general grunts of agreement. Bellanca sparks a little brighter, too.
“I should be going with you,” Carver says, staring broodingly at nothing at all.
That would be ideal, but that’s not possible anymore. Just one more thing we can lay at Piers’s feet. If Piers had chosen to support us, he would have headed all martial operations during any absence of Griffin’s. Now that responsibility falls to Carver, which means he can’t come with us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the dark-haired swordsman, my brother by marriage and by choice. Carver has the kind of quick wit, razor-sharp smile, fighting talent, and teasing manner that make people want to stand out in his eyes and shine. Unfortunately, Carver’s eyes also have an increasingly hard and unpredictable edge to them that makes those same people wonder what in the Underworld he’s really thinking. If you don’t know him already, it’s getting harder to tell if he’s joking with you or about to run you through. Not surprisingly, the new recruits are nervous around him, and nobody wants a bunch of jumpy men and women with weapons.
Which is just another reason that neither Flynn nor Kato can come with us. Flynn is a solid, unflappable presence for the troops to look up to, and Kato has a gift for inspiring ease and camaraderie, something we sorely need when faced with integrating two forces that recently saw each other as enemies and still aren’t quite sure how to interact.
Bellanca can just be Bellanca. If anything, the troops will be reassured that we have intense Fire Magic on our side.
Not having a better option, Griffin and I choose a day to leave, get ready, and then strike out on our own for the first time ever.
It feels strange to set out on a journey without our usual group, and its newest member almost refused to stay behind. Bellanca’s determination is admirable, if exasperating. She trailed us for an hour until I ultimately told her about Griffin’s magic rope, pulled it from his saddlebag, and then threatened to turn around and tie her to Carver until we got back. I wouldn’t actually do it, but she’s not the one who can detect lies.
Snarling, sparking, and spitting mad, the red-haired ex-princess cursed us both for idiots, wheeled her horse around, and then went back on her own. Threatening her with Carver worked like a charm.
Finally alone on the road, I don’t know if we made the right decision or not.
Apparently, Griffin doesn’t, either. He glances at me from under lowered brows, concern etching small lines around his mouth. “Maybe we should have let Bellanca come, or taken Kato or Flynn after all. I’m not sure it’s wise to be out here on our own.”
His thoughts echo mine, and the fact that we’re so in tune warms me. That we both wonder if we made a mistake is less heartening.
I know what he’s thinking, because I’m thinking it, too. I have no combat magic stored up, my lightning comes and goes in unpredictable explosions I have no control over, and half the time these days, I’m dragging physically, either tired or sick.
Griffin tugs gently on Brown Horse’s reins, taking the road forking to the right. Panotii takes his cues from Brown Horse and follows. It’s the road to Fisa. There should be warning signs. Continue at your own peril. Danger. Are you sure this is the road you want? This way lies Andromeda, the Great and Terrible. TURN BACK!
“What choice did we have?” I ask. “This potion could change everything. Having lightning I can control could stop an entire army in its tracks. It could stop Mother.”
Griffin looks pensive. “I know. I just hate going alone.”
I reach over and squeeze his forearm. “Carver’s head seems to be screwed on backward lately, but we can’t deprive him of his rightful place or take away something he’s actually very good at. And with the army growing so fast, we need Kato and Flynn where they are, helping Carver.”
“And you think Bellanca will scare off the hermit.” It’s not exactly a question, but Griffin doesn’t seem entirely convinced.
“Partially.” I bite my lip. “I also think she’s a good influence on Carver.”
Griffin looks at me, his eyes cool and hard under the overcast sky. A chill caterpillars down my back at his flinty expression, even though I know his lack of warmth isn’t directed at me. He’s worried about his brother. “How so?”
“She’s the only one who tells him the truth about himself anymore.”
Griffin turns back to the road. I think we both know it’s time to intervene with Carver. But Griffin isn’t acting like his usual self, either. Since that day with Piers, I’ve seen him avoid things he never would have before.
“Doing this means crossing into Fisa alone and unprotected,” he eventually says. “And going back onto the Ice Plains.”
“We’re not alone or unprotected. We have each other,” I argue. “And you know we can’t bring anyone new into this, not when the basic usefulness of my magic is in question. The information is too sensitive to trust anyone with it. Gods, we couldn’t even trust—” Piers. Even unspoken, it’s like I shout the name out loud.
Stealing a look at Griffin, I see that his face has taken on the blankness of emotional denial while still managing to seethe with anger. His expression more or less defiantly screams I’m fine, perfectly fine, and don’t you dare tell me that I’m not, because I bloody well am!
Frowning, I face forward again. “Right now, Beta Team is more useful to us where they are, and the Ice Plains don’t scare me anymore.”
“But Fisa does.” It’s a statement. No question necessary.
But he’s not exactly right. “It’s not Fisa that scares me. It’s just land, filled with people who will probably welcome us. It’s Mother who petrifies me.”
Griffin grunts, his countenance darkening even further.
As always when I think or talk about Mother, anxiety takes root in my belly, growing like a rotten but deeply entrenched vine. I’ve been conditioned—like a dog. Mother equals fear. Fear equals cold sweats and nausea.
It’s too bad. Little Bean gave me the morning off from the fun of vomiting, and I was actually feeling pretty good.
&nb
sp; Absently, I run a hand over my belly. Little Bean seems to have been lulled into a stupor by Panotii’s even gait. She’s not doing acrobatics with her zippy little life force or tossing the contents of my stomach around. Maybe I’m finally done with the morning sickness, and now I’ll just start getting big.
I shift in my leather armor. It does feel unusually tight. I glance down. Do I need to loosen the side buckles?
To Griffin’s delight, my breasts have already received the expansion message—loud and clear. Right now, I’m almost back to looking like I did when he first saw me, before all the running around and almost dying. It’s nice to have a shape again. Although pretty soon, I’ll likely have more shape than I can easily manage.
“Do you know what terrifies me the most?” I ask. And by that, I’m not including giving birth or having to figure out motherhood, because those pretty much top the list—with one exception.
Griffin shakes his head.
“Mother has no reason to keep me alive anymore.”
He scowls, looking like he just swallowed a mouthful of rocks. “There’s your Kingmaker Magic,” he reluctantly points out.
Thinking about how she used me to discover truths, I stare off into the distance, unseeing, the memory of my unwilling participation in the misery of many jostling me like an army of cold, dead feet. The memories of the consequences of noncompliance aren’t pleasant, either.
I quietly scoff. “I would never let her use me like that again.”
“You were a child,” Griffin says, as if youth exonerates all.
“So? I don’t think that’s much of an excuse. I never have, and actual age didn’t matter when you grew up in Castle Fisa. None of us stayed children, not even when we were small. Survival trumped innocence.”
“Children aren’t meant to understand everything, to sort through the moral pathways. They can’t.”
“In my case, blissful naivety didn’t last long. In fact, I don’t remember ever having it.”
“You stopped betraying people to your mother, despite her wiles and…incentives. Despite her violence and abuse. You protected lives at your own peril.”
I snort. He’s giving me more credit than he should.
Griffin levels his hard look on me. “Self-blame is useless at this point. It’s unfair to yourself, and to the people who love you. I talk in circles, and you don’t listen.”
My mouth drops open on a huff of breath. Well then.
“Ares was with you. Bouncing you on his knee.” His tone turns testy. Testy and jealous. “Why didn’t he protect you?” Griffin demands.
I study the horizon again, not wanting to face the hostility and accusation in Griffin’s expression.
“He did,” I eventually say. “And he taught me to protect myself. But remember, he was in human form and not as powerful, all-knowing, or invulnerable as he otherwise would have been. The Gods’ goal was apparently to get me to where I am today, whatever the cost.” Eleni, my mind provides, and my heart spasms as if still fresh from the loss. “I guess to be what I am today, I had to take my knocks.”
“Take your knocks?” Griffin echoes, incredulous. “Andromeda nearly beat you to death. Repeatedly. Where was Ares during that?”
“I don’t know.” I glance down. “He always came to get me after, he and Eleni. They’d bring me to the healer.”
Almost every time I refused to betray someone’s inner thoughts to Mother, I got beaten, sometimes to the point of needing a Death Mark. Healers leave those thin, silvery scars when they have no other way to save a person other than to split their flesh from elbow to shoulder and then enchant their blood. It’s incredibly painful—if you’re still conscious.
Conversations like this one always make my husband look like he’s ready to beat something to a bloody pulp—preferably my mother. I doubt I’d object, and I’m not sure what kind of a person that makes me. Probably not a good one.
“She threatened. A lot. And carried through on her threats spectacularly for the most part.” I shake my head. “But she also bribed and cajoled me. There were times when I just…didn’t fight. I told her what she wanted to know. She’s a horrible person, but I’m not blameless, Griffin. Some things are my fault. Like relying too much on Eleni and loving my sister more than anyone else. I turned her into a target for Mother’s obsessive life lessons and vindictive wrath.”
“Stop.” Griffin’s voice drops an entire octave and comes to me through his tightly clenched teeth. “Is this what you want to teach Little Bean? To never forgive herself? What good does that do anyone? You tear yourself apart for things you had no control over.”
“I did have control. My mouth. My words. My life!”
His expression darkens like a storm rolling in, one that’s inevitable. The first crack of thunder is always the one that rattles me the most. “Your life? You think you’re a coward and to blame because you didn’t throw it away? Because sometimes you compromised what you knew was right in order to survive?”
While his voice rumbles deeply, remaining ominously low, I nearly shout. “When have you ever compromised?” Griffin is pretty close to perfect. Just. Right. Fair. Bloody infuriating!
“My morals?” He snorts. “Plenty of times. Every time I took a boy to war that I knew was lying about being over sixteen years old and then sent him onto the battlefield to fight and die just like anyone else. Every time I dealt a killing blow instead of a debilitating one just to be sure I wouldn’t have to fight the same person twice. Every time I went to a willing and hopeful woman I had no real interest in just to satisfy my own baser needs.”
I blink. The image slaps me hard. It looks like Daphne.
“Every time I look at you and want to grab you and hide you away, keep you safe and mine. Not everyone’s. Not Thalyria’s. Mine!” He lets out a sudden bellow of frustration, and I stare, wide-eyed. Panotii’s ears twitch. Brown Horse doesn’t even blink. Little Bean wakes up with a bang.
His voice quiets again, but I can tell his emotions are still raging inside. Griffin never seems to get angry—except at me. “What happened to Eleni is not your fault. Neither was Galen Tarva threatening your mother with his power, or your mother deciding to turn you into a bargaining chip to keep him away.”
“Well, that deal is more than off since Galen is dead. Mother doesn’t need me now.” Which brings me back to my original point. “I’m not an asset to her anymore; I’m only a threat. I haven’t let her use my abilities for her own gain in years, and there’s no Galen Tarva to hold off anymore with promises of delivering the Kingmaker to him for his own personal use. She’ll try to kill me the first chance she gets.”
I could swear Griffin almost flinches. He stares straight ahead, a muscle flexing in his jaw.
We ride in silence for a long time after that, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
Eventually, he mutters, “This witch had better know what she’s doing.”
“Oh, she does. Or at least that’s what everyone says, including Ares back when he was Thanos. She’s amazing with potions and stuff.”
Griffin glances over, arching a dark brow. “And stuff?”
Is that humor I see returning to his eyes? Or at least normalcy? “That’s what I said,” I answer stiffly, faking offense.
“Make sure you add that to your queenly decrees,” he teases. “I hereby declare that the people of Thalyria shall be safe from royally sanctioned thieving raids, outrageous taxing, random massacres, and stuff.”
I mash my lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a smile. “Maybe I’ll let you write the decrees.”
Griffin nods. “Wise choice.”
“Pfffffff.”
He smiles, giving me the satisfaction I just stubbornly refused him, but we always knew he was the mature one.
“Why Frostfire?” Griffin asks. “It’s an odd name.”
“From what I’m told, it’s because there’s both frost and fire.” I shrug. “I guess we’ll see when we get there.”
“And when will that be?”
“Not soon enough.” I drop my reins, lift my arms, and stretch. My lower back is already hurting. “After we cross the border at the Chaos Wizard’s house, it’s at least another two days to the northeast.” And that’s if my appalling sense of direction doesn’t get us lost along the way.
“Are you planning to say hello?” he asks.
“To the Chaos Wizard?” I shoot him a horrified look. “Are you kidding me? Do you want a snake jumping down your throat? Because I’m pretty sure I’m incompatible still.”
Thank you, Little Bean.
* * *
Frostfire. Three and a half days northeast of the Fisan border. It would have been less if I hadn’t steered us wrong. But who can tell where east is on a cloudy day? And no one ever said not to take that fork in the road. Seriously. You’d think there’d be some kind of warning when there’s a Manticore lair ahead. Then again, they devour their prey whole, leaving no sign of their victims—not a bone, not a scrap of clothing, not a bloody tooth. Luckily, Griffin and I can throw knives faster than the Manticore can throw poison spikes from its tail. And Panotii is damn speedy when he wants to be.
Magic nips at my skin. My blood pulses eagerly, wanting to snatch up all the power that washes over me with a slightly smarting caress. The magic in the air at Frostfire leaves a sweet-and-sour taste on my tongue, both corrosive and tempting. I’m not sure it’s something I can take, though. It may be too intangible for that. Besides, the euphoria episode in Velos taught me not to steal spells or magic I haven’t identified. Whatever is around here is enticing, but there’s also something dark in the underbelly of it, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want it.
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