“It wasn’t a choice based on practicality,” Wes replied, his tone implying I had exceeded every limit of na?veté.
Ren steered his horse to us. “We’re here. Sylvia, you’ll go through alongside the Commander.”
I pursed my lips, relieved at the disruption. This was too much information for someone who had spent the last two days asleep. The soldiers spread into formation as I galloped ahead. The Meridian Pass loomed before us, a gigantic reddish-brown rock formation sloping into a steep gorge. In the otherwise barren land, the Meridian Pass blotted the sun. The canyon splitting the center of the Pass couldn’t fit more than two riders side by side. Half the cavalcade went in front of Arin in the narrow canyon, and the other half lagged with the guards.
Moss grew in bold swaths over the sheer red crags. A brewing sense of wrong slipping along my spine intensified as we neared the foreboding crevice.
“I remember the massacre,” Arin said. I jumped. The first fleet disappeared into the Pass. I patted my skittish mare’s head. “I was seventeen and just appointed Commander.”
We approached the narrow opening. The horses spooked easily, and I tucked my knees tight in case mine tried to buck me off.
“I didn’t authorize it,” Arin continued quietly. “There were children. The soldiers acted the way the former Commander taught them.”
The former Commander, his father. The crags cast a long shadow over us. An impenetrable silence hung in the canyon, broken by the sound of hooves clicking against rock. Dust swirled lazily in the gloom, and I struggled to see the soldiers ahead of us.
“What would you have done differently?”
It dealt him a hard blow, my question. Arin’s breathing changed, coming in harsh bursts. His knuckles whitened around the reins. “I am not—”
He inhaled sharply, bowing forward under a sudden pressure. I finally turned to him. “What’s wrong?” I demanded. I searched for a secret assailant. “What’s happening to you?”
His gaze emptied. Bluish veins strained under his skin. I doubted he could hear me.
“I am not my father,” he whispered.
Ren rode forward from the brigade forming the rear, pulling his horse alongside Arin’s. “Sire, our scouts have not reported in. I think we may have lost con—”
An arrow speared through Ren’s eye.
Screams split the air around us. Arrows rained into the canyon. Ren’s body slid from his horse.
A gasp died on my lips. I caught the reins of my horse to keep it from lurching over Ren. Sefa and Marek! Where were Sefa and Marek?
I couldn’t leave Arin in this condition. His gaze was glassy, unaware of anything outside his head. Magic. It had to be. But why only him?
The amount of power necessary to trap Arin in this state was staggering. It should have passed through him quickly, through whatever breach in his biology allowed him to sense magic in the first place.
An arrow flew into the throat of the soldier ahead of us. The Meridian Pass flickered, and suddenly, it was my father on the horse ahead. His features slackening in death as blood poured in an inverted V around the arrow cleaving his throat.
“Wake up!” I shouted, shaking Arin’s arm. “Please!”
My magic slammed around my cuffs, agitated. I had to stop the arrows. This was a Jasadi attack, and I did not need to venture a guess what they wanted. How could Arin allow us to risk the Meridian Pass? We were waiting targets down here.
The soldiers would protect their Heir. Sefa and Marek only had me.
Grief. Rage. Fear. I had no doubts as to which was motivating my magic this time.
When I pushed my magic toward him, it complied. I could only hope it wouldn’t hurt him more. I had neither the skill nor the time to form a proper shield.
With great difficulty, I turned my horse away from him and spurred it on. If anyone was going to kill Arin of Nizahl, it would be me.
Dust and pebbles churned over the canyon, obscuring my vision. A boon. The soldiers wouldn’t see me toss my horse’s reins to the side and leap onto the side of the Meridian Pass. The smooth rock face slid beneath my boots, but I had climbed worse. With a push from my magic, I scaled it quickly.
I hauled myself to the top of the canyon. Arms grabbed me. A dozen bows took aim at my face.
“You need to stop,” I panted. “Do what you will to the soldiers, but I have friends down there.”
“It is you.” A man lowered his bow in disbelief. He studied me as though I might disappear at any moment. “Malika Essiya.”
The group on the opposite side of the canyon was still shooting arrows. Every muscle in my body was tensed for a scream I recognized.