The stable hand was sweating now, his curls sticking to his face. He placed both hands around the horse’s face and spoke quickly, his voice shaking, but hushed.
“You’ll be … you’ll be okay,” he told the ashvan.
We took the horse toward the front, and I realized there was going to be a moment when I couldn’t threaten the stable hand, when I had to climb onto the ashvan and leave before he screamed. Then I heard Rhyan’s voice in my head, ordering me to protect myself before we left our cave.
If you need to defend yourself—strike first, think later.
I felt awful doing it. But once we cleared the threshold, I took the hilt of my dagger, and I slammed it onto the back of the boy’s head. His eyes closed and he collapsed. I dragged back inside the stable doors and closed them behind me, then without looking back I climbed up onto the horse, settled into her saddle, stroked her, grabbed her reins, and kicked.
“Vraya. Ya!”
She took off at once, picking up speed with a loud whinny, blue sparks shimmering around her hooves. Then I felt the horse lift up onto her hind legs. I tightened my grip, and we took off, running at an angle that left my heart pounding. She raced up the buildings in front of us, and then over them, rising higher and higher.
I quickly assessed which way we were heading and steered us north, straight for Numeria. I kept my gaze forward, urging the ashvan on. The wind was blowing brutally into my face, and the air was chilled despite the sun. But I only looked ahead, only thought of Rhyan. And if my horse slowed, I yelled until we sped up. I didn’t relent until I reached the city.
We descended just beyond the border to avoid being seen by patrol. I had just one task to complete. Find out where in the capital he was.
I moved further into the city. The sparkling waterways were overrun with nobles and Lumerians, all speaking in a mix of northern and southern dialects. I hadn’t been around such a mix of people like this since Auriel’s Feast Day. As promised, the Valabellum had drawn Lumerians from every corner of the Empire. But that was good, because when I had Rhyan, we could vanish more easily—get lost in the crowd.
And the other good thing—they were all heading in one direction—to the arena.
I breathed a small sigh of relief. Rhyan hadn’t been stripped yet. If he had been, if it was over, they’d be walking away. There’d be the sort of mass exodus, the kind one saw after games in the arena or habibellums attended for entertainment.
I walked a few more steps, keeping pace with everyone, letting the ashvan take a short break.
“To the arena!” a soturion shouted, bumping into me. I immediately pushed back and shoved him onto the ground.
“What the fuck?” He was Ka Kormac based on his armor. He scrambled to his feet, clearly hellbent on revenge. “The fuck are you looking at?”
But I didn’t answer, I just kept walking, pushing until I vanished into the crowd. As I walked, I mentally went over the map of the Palace. Was Rhyan in the dungeons? Or did they havehim in that interrogation room where Jules and Galen were? There was a huge difference in location. The interrogation room would be near the Throne Room, toward the front of the Palace away from the arena. But the prisons on the opposite side of the grounds meant a much shorter walk to the Katurium.
“The forsworn bastard,” someone shouted into the crowd, pulling me from my thoughts.
More calls came.
“Heard he killed Theotis.”
“He’ll get his.”
Assholes. I ducked my head down, making sure my hood remained up and tightened the mask around my face. I’d put my cloak on over my armor to conceal that I was Bamarian.
But right then someone noticed. “Your cloak’s on wrong,” a Palace Turion barked at me. “The armor goes on top. Stop and fix it, soturion. Now.”
I sped up, walking faster, my hands tightening on the ashvan’s reins.
“Hey! I gave you an order! Stop!”
I froze, unsure what to do. I didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself. I pushed my shoulders forward, trying to look cowed.
“Why are you masked,” he asked, circling in front of me, his eyes narrowing.
“I got cut in training,” I said, looking down. “Nasty scar. My boyfriend said it’s too ugly to look at.” I sniffled.
The Turion rolled his eyes. “Fix your cloak,” he snarled, then movedpast me, shouting at everyone to keep order, and not to push.
My stomach was in knots but I walked behind him, wondering if he had any valuable information.
“Full crowd,” he muttered, as he came upon another soturion. This one was Glemarian.
