“So?” Corrin asks. “Did the king give you much issue?”
“None at all.” He is far different from what I expected. Playful at times, almost boyish. “You were right. He can be rather charming.” And seductive, whether that was his intention or not. Surely not. What purpose would a king have for seducing a mortal baker with three children in tow?
My cheeks flush under Corrin’s weighty stare.
CHAPTER TEN
ZANDER
“They’re not coming.” Abarrane paces along the inside of the gate like a caged beast. “We should never have let that Ybarisan ride off. If you had allowed me, I could have—”
“He said it was, what, a six-hour ride? That’s half a day, there and back. Plus time to convince this Radomir guy, who can only travel at night, to release Drakon and Iago. Have some faith, Abarrane.” Romeria says this, and yet she paces too.
“Faith in whom, exactly?” she sneers. “The Ybarisans or the saplings? Do you know what you ask? Both sides are murderers and thieves. One has been plotting to kill us and take our land, and the other plot to take our blood and then kill us.”
“I get that. But torturing Kienen for information would have gotten us nowhere. It would have been stupid—”
Jarek inserts his enormous body between the two bickering females before I can react. The rest of the legionaries remain where they are, not foolish enough to get in the middle. “I cannot stand relying on them either, but this plan offers at least a chance for some form of arrangement,” he says.
“Well, don’t you sing a different tune now,” Abarrane growls.
“A pragmatic one? It’s the only realistic chance we have of getting Iago and Drakon back.”
She sniffs. “I still think we should let Ybaris and Lyndel battle each other.”
“We will need all of them fighting alongside us for what is ahead, if Queen Neilina’s letter hints at the truth,” I add coolly, hoping my words will end the quarreling. An impossible task, I’m sure, but I’m searching deep for hope. Telor has been a friend for many years. Not the same sort of friend as Theon Rengard of Bellcross, but one nonetheless.
Abarrane spins on her heels and marches to the far side to calm her temper.
I can’t blame my commander for her doubt or her anguish. Neither the saplings nor the Ybarisans can be trusted. We don’t even know if the two legionaries are still alive. But what we do know now is that Neilina plans to cross the rift at the height of the Hudem moon with a mighty army that will take advantage of Islor’s growing dysfunction.
We spent most of our time since Kienen rode off strategizing what comes after this encounter, but there are still too many unknowns in front of us to make solid plans. All I do know is that I must put aside my plot to march on Cirilea and regain my throne. For the good of Islor, our focus must shift to the rift.
Suddenly, Jarek’s head jerks outward. “Do you hear that?” His ears have always been among the keenest.
Everyone freezes as we listen intently.
“I hear it too,” Elisaf says a second later, just as I catch the faint, familiar sound.
Romeria scowls, frustrated that her kind’s senses aren’t as strong. “What is it?”
“Hooves.” Many of them.
“Look!” She points to a single torch in the far distance. It’s joined by another, and then they multiply. “Is that them?”
“Telor would not ride his men through the night in these mountains.” They would camp with a tight perimeter against any unwanted beasts.
I sense Romeria’s heart racing, a palpable expectation radiating from it, combined with relief. I hope I never lose the ability to read her in that way.
She smiles. “Okay, this is good, then. They’re coming like we asked.”
“As you commanded,” Jarek reminds her and nods his approval.
“Right. I didn’t think they’d listen.”
“Why don’t you give them some added light for their approach to Ulysede’s gates, Romeria?” Gesine coaxes, the caster remaining in the corner. “As we practiced.”
Romeria nods and then steadies her gaze on the nearest woodpile the legionaries and mortals spent the day stacking. A dozen identical piles fan out across the arid plain, strategically placed for our defense as needed.
For several beats, nothing happens.
And then suddenly, it erupts in a burst of flame.
The smile of pride that stretches across Romeria’s beautiful face reminds me of the one she wore the morning I caught her teasing water into waves and chased the nearby ducks from their reed beds. I could spend all day admiring it, if given the opportunity. But now is not that time.