by Amy Bai
The saddle slid under him as Taireasa pulled free of him again, hiding.
"Devin… are you well? Do you need to stop?"
Kinsey eyed him, eyebrows drawn together, and Devin blinked the world into place around himself. Everyone in this company probably thought he was a madman by now. He couldn't exactly argue the point.
"Well," he echoed, barely able to form the word. His father was dead, his kingdom taken by traitors, his friends in danger, and his sister was—was ill.
He had never been less well in his life.
"No." He swallowed, searching for words. "Thank you, no rest. We should keep riding."
"Is it this… sharing of thoughts with your queen?" Kinsey sounded as though he had to make an effort to believe that. Devin couldn't blame him. He'd tried to describe it this morning as they began their ascent, figuring these new allies, however temporary, deserved to know why he spent so much time staring off into the distance. He didn't think he'd managed to do it coherently, though. He hardly understood what was happening himself; how could he hope to explain it to others?
"Sometimes I can see out of her eyes," Devin said. "It's distracting."
The prince's forehead crumpled, but he didn't say anything else.
The land hit a sharper slope and the great prow of stone they had been riding alongside came to an abrupt end. Wind whipped into their faces. Suddenly, the whole mountain face was open to their gaze.
Savvys came to a halt, ears pricking. Eyes on the view, Devin sat in the saddle like a lump, every muscle gone loose and numb. The wind snatched at the air, making it hard to keep his seat and even harder to breathe. He realized from the sudden cold on his cheeks that he was crying, and wiped his face.
Faestan was a distant darkness on the landscape, nestled in the great bend of the Sainey river. The tiny lines of the castle and the surrounding town were obscured by smoke.
"Damn them," Devin hissed. His hands clenched on the reins. Savvys half-reared. "Damn them, damn them, damn them! Oh gods, look what they've done."
He wasn't the only one weeping. The men of the Third were with him, bunching into a messy jumble of horses and soldiers as they came beyond the edge of the rock and saw Lardan spread out before them, burning.
"The barons are holdin'," Peydan muttered. "Our barons. Bless ’em."
That was true. No smoke hid the view of Maurynim Castle, closest to the mountains—close enough that he could see even from here that its gates were shut. Devin sucked in another breath, fumbling for sanity.
"My lord," the Cassdall lieutenant said sharply, and pointed down, toward a valley halfway up the mountain. Deep forest ringed it, and within the trees on the eastern rise, metal flashed back up at the sun.
Taireasa, Devin realized, hope flaring—but clear reason followed that. There were too many, and they were too well-armed. That was no group of refugees. He squinted, leaning forward in the saddle, and saw a banner at the edge of the treeline, yellow and green.
Sevassis.
"No," he said. "Oh, no."
"Devin," Kinsey said, all the mildness gone from his voice. He truly sounded like a prince now. Devin followed Kinsey's gaze and saw, on the other side of the valley and deeper in the trees, more glints of metal moving between branches.
That was Taireasa and Kyali… heading for an ambush there was no way they could see coming.
"No!" Devin shouted, and reached back to where his helm was tied to his saddle, ready to fly down there if that was the only option. He couldn't lose any more. Not Taireasa, not Kyali. He'd rather die. If that was cowardice, fine.
Kinsey's horse bumped his, squashing his leg against Savvys's side. Kinsey's hand closed over his arm, a grip hard enough to hurt. "Tell her," the prince snapped. Devin scowled, not understanding, and the other man shook him hard. "Tell your queen, Devin—use this thing between you and tell her what you see."
"I can't!" he cried, wrenching his arm free of that iron grip. "We can't speak, it's only images, I don't know how—"
"Then show her!"
Oh.
Oh.
In the midst of his fright, Devin had to marvel at how quickly Kinsey had grasped the essentials of the situation. "Yes," he breathed. Kinsey let him go with a wary look.
Shutting his eyes, Devin reached for Taireasa again—reached this time without any hesitation, with all the desperate force of his fear. She was with him wholly in an instant, thundering over him, her startled concern for him so strong he could feel it speed his own pulse. He opened his eyes and felt her dizzy response to the view before him, then her joy at that glint of metal in the trees, the fact that they were within sight of one another.
He showed her the army on the other side of the valley then, the Sevassis banner flapping in its midst.
He was afraid his heart might stop altogether, her terror was so profound. Then the methodical intelligence that he was beginning to know her for overlaid that fear, and she left him in a welter of dread and determination. He came to with both hands braced on the pommel of his saddle and tears on his face once more, this time not from grief but in awe of Taireasa's defiant courage.
He had lived most of his life with her, and never known until now how brave she was.
"She knows," Devin coughed out, remembering that more than three hundred men were waiting on his word.
“Good," Kinsey said. "See to it, Annan."
Devin had no idea what that last was about. He needed to gather his wits, have Peydan muster the Third and get them ready. He didn't know what Kinsey would do—stay up here and watch a battle, probably—but he had to part from his new allies only a day after meeting them. He wasn't going to leave Taireasa and Kyali to face the Sevassis ambush alone, not when he had a chance to get there in time. Three hundred men could make a difference in a battle.
There was a deep, heartfelt sigh from near him. Devin raised his head as Annan spun his horse around, a look of grim resignation on his face.
"Arm and form up!" the Cassdall lieutenant shouted. The order echoed back, then was repeated by his own men as Peydan took charge.
Devin looked at Kinsey.
"Well," the Cassdall prince said, frowning at his horse's ears. He looked down at the valley below them, where two armies were on their way to a bloody meeting, and his gray eyes widened. "Magic, isn't it?" Kinsey asked, sounding just as young and just as terrified as Devin felt.
Four hundred men.
Speechless for once in his life, Devin got Kinsey's arm in a fierce grip and managed a smile. "My friend, your guess is as good as mine," he said.
Laughing and petrified, they rode down the mountain toward battle.
* * *
The sun had reached its zenith and was beginning a slow slide down the sky, heralding another night with only the hard ground for a bed. Taireasa cared nothing for the bedding, but she dreaded the nightmares: vivid and wrenching, full of the screams of friends, they left her curled up in frozen terror, sweat beading on her skin.
She didn't sleep alone, but she might as well have. Kyali, once woken by little more than a breath on her part, slept through all this without a twitch—slept so soundly Taireasa had begun to wonder if she were ignoring a friend's suffering.
That was a worse thought than many she'd had today… but she had to admit it wasn't impossible.
Kyali had cut herself off entirely. Someone far colder lived behind her eyes now: someone who could order soldiers and plan routes, who could set bones and bind wounds—but who didn't remember friendship, or love, or grief. Kyali moved through the days of their journey without a hint of expression, without anger or fear or any acknowledgment of what they had been to one another. What they had lost.
What she had given up, apparently, to survive the things the barons of the West had done to her.
Tell us, girl! Tell us where the princess is and it will end, you will live…
I will NOT!
Taireasa bit her lip until she could taste blood.
The memory hau
nted her, and not just when she slept. She refused to weep, because Kyali hadn't, and didn't, and perhaps couldn’t—and what Kyali had done for her had made every hurt she lived with seem trivial.
She'd never before had someone give their life for hers. She didn't know how to live with herself now. She didn't know how to speak of it, even if Kyali were willing. What could she say? I'm sorry? Thank you?
I didn't leave you?
I stayed, I saw what you saw and felt what you felt, I used my Gift for this, and now I struggle to live with what you have chosen to forget?
It was a confession that had welled up in her more than once, not only because the memory of Kyali's torment haunted her so, but because her conscious use of her new Gift felt like an intrusion, like a betrayal of trust. And yet it had been necessary. She had held grimly onto Kyali's presence, unnoticed and half-mad with the echo of pain, waiting until the barons of the West left long enough for her and Marta to steal Kyali away.
And Kyali had a right to know this. The truth might even wake her from this frozen silence. But Taireasa was terrified of what it else it might do. If the memories gave her nightmares, what would they do to Kyali?
Did someone ever come back from such a thing?
"Kyali," Taireasa said, and clutched convulsively at the reins. Kyali didn't reply. She rode along as though dreaming.
"Lady Corwynall," she tried, and finally Kyali's gaze drifted to her, light and indifferent as glass. Taireasa opened her mouth to say it, say all of it, but couldn't get the words out. She swallowed, tasting bitter defeat. "What are you thinking?" she said, instead of everything that needed to be spoken. She shut her eyes, hating herself.
"Take my oath," Kyali said. "Tonight. So the army can witness."
Taireasa opened her eyes and glared. "No."
They had carried this argument with them all the way up the mountain. Kyali wouldn't let it go. And she was right, so far as it went. There had been no coronation. They were both of royal blood, and Kyali's renunciation of candidacy for the crown held far less weight now that the kingdom she'd given her allegiance to was overrun by traitors. They were both still eligible for the throne. There were Corwynalls in the army behind them, and their mutterings had grown over the last few days. Kyali barely spoke to her cousins, a tactic Taireasa doubted was quelling their ambition. And the Lord General's soldiers, who watched her friend with increasing reverence, listened to them.
If Kyali swore to her, it would settle this before it became an issue that demanded challenge.
But she had done enough. Enough for a lifetime. Just the thought of asking more, however willing Kyali was, made her stomach twist and bile come to the back of her throat.
"I won't have it, Ky."
"You are asking for a challenge, Majesty."
"Let them challenge. I don't care!"
She'd spoken too loud, and without thought. There was a listening hush all around them as villagers and soldiers strained to hear. Beside her, Kyali drew a measured breath, apparently still capable of frustration, if nothing else. "Majesty—"
She was so very sick of that title. "I will not have it. Leave me be."
"As you will," Kyali said coolly, and they fell back into a strained silence.
Taireasa put her fingers to her brow, trying to press the headache out of it—and nearly fell from the saddle when Devin's presence pushed into her thoughts with startling force, his heart full of panic. He was so bone-tired she felt her own shoulders slump.
"Devin," she gasped, and wrapped both her hands around the pommel of her saddle to keep from pitching out of it. He had never been so close, so strong. She could no longer see the trees that surrounded them or feel her horse under her. It was his horse she rode, his harp slung heavily across her shoulders, his terror beating in her veins. A dizzy height fell away from her, the Sainey river sparkling at the skies from a great distance, the stretch of the kingdom leveling out beyond an amazing drop. Taireasa made a shocked sound, felt hands close over her shoulders, weight pressing her back into her own saddle, her own bones.
But Devin pulled at her, wanting her attention, and she shut her eyes and gave in—saw, immediately, a stranger's face, brown like the men of Orin and noble, and beyond a crowd of similar-looking soldiers. They were not dressed like any soldiers she had seen before. The stranger looked alarmed. He said something she couldn't hear and the vision wheeled sickeningly to a forest-ringed valley nestled on the mountain's slope. A bright gleam of metal flashed in the trees. Taireasa gasped again, this time in joy, as she understood Devin was looking at them from that height. Soon she would have a friend by her side again.
Then the vision moved to the other side of the valley, where more metal sparked in sunlight. She strained to see through Devin's eyes, trying to understand that. There was a banner…
Taireasa frowned, feeling her weight slide in the saddle again. The colors on the banner came clear.
Yellow and green.
Sevassis.
"Oh no," Taireasa murmured as Devin let her go, leaving her with his lingering fear and his fierce love for her rolling through her head like some strange, wonderful perfume. Her heart began to pound so hard it was difficult to think. "Oh no, oh no." She pushed at the saddle, fighting for strength.
She opened her eyes and met two amber ones, very close. Kyali let her go immediately.
"What was that?" Kyali asked, all suspicion. She was rubbing her palms down her thighs, as though the contact had made her hands tingle.
"Is there a valley ahead of us?"
Kyali blinked once. "Aye. I'd intended for us to make camp there tonight. How—"
"There's a company from Sevassis on the northeast side, hiding in the trees. A large company. We have to ride around the valley."
The quiet around them grew into something strained and awful. The officers nearest—younger, inexperienced soldiers Kyali had appointed in haste, as their wiser leaders were all lost in the raid on the Corwynall estates—stared at Taireasa as though she'd declared that their new home would be on the moon. Kyali blinked a second time, then nodded, accepting this announcement with perfect aplomb.
"How close?"
Taireasa closed her eyes, thinking. "Very. We're at the edge of it now, and Sevassis is on the other side."
"Then we won't be able to dodge them," Kyali said simply, sending a chill down Taireasa's spine. "We have villagers, and wounded. We're too large and noisy a force to sneak about in here. We'll either meet them in the valley or in the trees, and we've no chance if we meet them in the trees."
Taireasa stared at her, speechless.
Kyali turned to a man who had been riding by their side the whole way up the mountain. "Ciaran," she said. "Marshal the men into two lines with the villagers in between. Tell them to arm. I want the cavalry staggered down each side. Get the wounded together and leave them by the stream, with four guards. Take their horses." She caught the man's arm as he made to ride past. "And put my cousins on the right flank to the fore," she added. "If we're ambushed, they can meet it first."
Gods. Taireasa swallowed down a dry throat, as stunned by the ruthless practicality of that order as by the thought of riding into a battle. She allowed herself to be guided into the center, too shocked to argue. In another moment she was surrounded by soldiers on all sides. Kyali was an intermittent flicker of red braid far up ahead, riding faster, sword out and flashing in the sun. The whole line began to move quickly. Horses and men jostled around her. She tried only to breathe, to keep a calm expression. Her hands were white on the reins. She couldn't seem to fix that.
They broke through the trees suddenly and light struck her face like a slap, so bright after days in deep forest that it hurt her eyes.
There was a valley ahead, green and lush, sloping gently away from them. Taireasa squinted at it as soldiers began to spread out all around her. On the other side of the clearing, men in bright armor were pouring out of the trees, taking the low ground before their own company could hope to.
The first real battle in centuries would happen here.
I don't know what to do. Father, what do I do?
"Taireasa."
Someone had her by the shoulders. She blinked up into Kyali's grim face and bit her tongue when Kyali shook her. "Taireasa, listen. I am leaving you ten guards. Take the villagers into the trees on the northwest slope, as far from this as you can get. If we lose, you must head up the game trails to the ridge, to the Fraonir. Follow the river. They will protect you."
If we lose, Taireasa thought, eyes darting helplessly to the valley. Then she heard the rest, and terror turned to fury as she understood: Kyali didn't think they would win.
Kyali was about to do it all over again.
"No!" Taireasa cried. The word, ripping out of her, came with an odd warping of the air that she recognized from somewhere. "Not again! Not for me, Kyali Corwynall! Enough!"
And Kyali—flinched.
The blood drained from her face. Her eyes first went wide and then flared a bright, glaring gold like the heart of a fire. She stayed that way for a moment, frozen in place, and then bent in the saddle, shoulders hunched, curled over herself like she'd taken a sword in the belly.
"Gods," Taireasa blurted, horrified, feeling something terrible and dark pressing at her mind. Her Gift: she had done something like this to Marta when she had gotten angry. She reached a hand out and set it on Kyali's arm, felt the tension there. "Ky, I'm sorry—"
"No," Kyali whispered, and again, barely a breath, in pure desperation: "No." The muscles in her friend’s arm shuddered, bunched. Kyali backed her horse away, trembling visibly.
Now there was an expression on her face.
Seeing it, seeing the awful struggle there, Taireasa knew Kyali did remember. For a second, it was all there between them—the blood, the questions, the agony and rage and helplessness, all there. It blistered the air. It swallowed every good thing in the world. It took her breath, and all her words died unspoken.