That is, if this Lucretia is telling the truth, and not some perverted fabrication of it. But it makes sense given all that we’ve done to get to this place. We should have seen it.
I should have seen it.
“She will come to terms with it.”
My jaw clenches at Gesine’s voice in my ear. “Is that what unleashing a waiting army of monsters and battling with a fate for rule of my land is? Coming to terms with it? Do you realize the weight you’ve placed on her shoulders?”
“I only mean that there is no blame to be laid. There is no other path but one, and we would be fooling ourselves to think it. This was written for you both long ago, and we must move forward as prophecy dictates.”
“The blame does not lay at Romeria’s feet.” Or even mine, but I can find plenty for the caster standing next to me, who seems to be shirking all responsibility. “Tell me, High Priestess, if prophecy declared that I was to take an arrow to the chest, would you hand my enemy the bow?”
“That is not how prophecy works—”
“But if it did?”
Her brow furrows, as if to consider her answer to that question.
“Your Highness, a banner flies,” Loth calls out, his sights on the distance.
“We will continue this conversation later.” I stroll toward the exit. Romeria moves to join me, but I hold up my hand to stop her. “I am stronger, but that does not mean I trust myself around you.” I’ve crossed this threshold and battled the curse’s craving a handful of times today and, each time, the need’s assault grew weaker. Still … “Give me a moment.”
She nods and waits as I step out. The Ybarisans watch from a safe distance, no doubt equal parts curious and wary about the exiled king whose knees buckle every time he steps outside the secret city. Earlier, when Radomir drew his cloak and stepped out—and crumbled under the weight of the curse, turning him back into his sapling form—they wore masks of horror, but followed Kienen’s lead, remaining in place.
This time, the need is nothing more than a nuisance—thankfully—and it vanishes in seconds.
Far ahead in the evening dusk, four silhouettes canter forward on horseback. They’re nothing but tiny specks that even my eyes can’t decipher, the navy blue and white Lyndel banner waving high above them. But Telor will be among them. He’s never been one to send a messenger to negotiate a surrender or launch a battle. He has too much pride for that. “My horse.”
I expect Abarrane to answer the call, but it’s Romeria who rides out, leading my black stallion by its reins next to her chocolate-brown one. Whatever doubts the Ybarisans have of this alliance with Islor, they seem to stand taller at the sight of her. The truth about King Barris’s assassination has penetrated the ranks and, as Kienen expected, their anger is potent. No one has opposed following Ybaris’s heir to the throne.
Yet, that little voice screams.
But each day forward will only bring more danger, more dark truths. Too many bad actors with access, too many easy mistakes to be had.
If I were to lose her, I think I might burn this entire realm.
I climb into my saddle. “It’s amazing how proficient a rider you’ve become.” I still remember that first day, riding through the streets of Cirilea with her ramrod back and her obscenely poofy dress.
“Jarek’s a good teacher.” Her beautiful, clear blue eyes squint as she tries to make out the figures ahead. “Do you think Telor’s already sent a message to Atticus about us being here?”
“Yes, but it won’t get there before the taillok does.” Gesine confirmed the bird would arrive in Cirilea by sunrise, its wings capable of speed like nothing we’ve ever seen before. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I nod toward the enemy line.
“What do you mean? I love meeting people who want me dead,” she mutters wryly. But the humor slips as she adds, “At least now they have a good reason. I can’t blame Princess Romeria for what I’ve done.”
I want to collect her face in my palms, kiss her worries away. But now is not the time for that. Maybe my words will offer her some comfort. “You have been a tool all along, for the fates, for prophecy, for politics. The blame does not sit on your shoulders, and I will quiet anyone who suggests otherwise.”
“I don’t know if I believe that, but thank you for saying it.”
Others ride up to our flanks then, our commanders taking their rightful places by our sides, Elisaf and Kienen next to them. Gesine holds tight to Zorya on their horse, and Radomir hides within his deep cowl.