Her eyes linger on me.
My father is nowhere to be seen.
Turning away from the weight of her gaze, I look back to the families.
Lightbringers are not generally known for their emotion. But lineage is a language all of us understand, and no Lightbringer soldier would ride through the gates of Solvandyr without their families present to bid them farewell, highlighting the bloodlinethat will continue on if they fall in battle. The group closest to me includes a little girl that barely reaches the sole of her father’s boot where he sits astride, waiting to leave. She stares hard at the cracked red ground, a slight frown wrinkling her brow, her back ramrod straight, little hands clenched at her side.
She can’t be older than five, yet she stands with the bearing of a much older soldier. For some reason, the sight tightens my throat. Perhaps it’s her attempt to emulate her father as she peeks up, pulling her shoulders back further. Or perhaps the way he glances down for a moment before he looks away, ignoring her.
Perhaps it has nothing to do with them at all.
When I tug my hood forward to cover my face, the girl’s eyes slip to me, childish curiosity betraying her as her eyes linger on my braid. I drop my hand to my side and open my palm.
The small warmth barely drains me. But her eyes widen as the glassreavers slip from my palm. Three of them, small and fast as they flap wings of pure light attached to long, thin bodies and swoop to linger in front of her, twirling in a trifecta that has a smile appearing at the corner of her small lips and eyes widening in wonder.
The tongue that clicks beside me has my hand curling inward. The reavers vanish as if they were never there, and I look away from the girl’s disappointment to the male standing beside me. Cindral stares hard at the girl, and she visibly shrinks back, her hand reaching instinctively for the woman beside her before she straightens once more. “Poor discipline.”
“She’s a child.” I keep my voice low, but the sharpness bleeds through.
“She won’t be one forever. She’ll be in training within the year.” Cindral dismisses her without a second thought, focusing his attention on me. I keep still as his eyes crawl over me. “You ready?”
“Of course.” Curious, I look to the families beside us, but none seem overly focused on him. I know little of Cindral’s personal life. Have no idea if he’s even married, although given the direction of my owntraining, I would sincerely hope not.
Particularly since his expression still holds the same look he wore the last time we were in each other’s company. He runs his hand over the leather reins attached to my mare, testing the grip.
“I already checked them.” I try not to rip them from his hands.
“And I’m checking again.”
I sit silently while he tugs at the straps, tightening them. And when his hand lands on my leg, gripping it through the leathers, I say nothing. But my body tenses at his words. “You’ll ride beside me for now.”
“I’m not supposed to draw attention.”
“Then you’ve already failed,” he murmurs. His hand travels up with a familiarity that flips my stomach, fingering the end of my braid before he pulls away and returns to his usual clipped tone. “Commander’s orders.”
Nodding, I maneuver my way through the mounted group, murmuring apologies and receiving icy looks in return until I reach the space beside his stallion. A pale-haired female glowers at me, her eyes sliding to Cindral as she grips her own reins tightly. “What’s this about?”
“Move, soldier.” Cindral’s voice holds the sharpness of a whip. “You’ve been told.”
She throws me one more glare before withdrawing to the line of four soldiers behind us, forcing someone else to move back. Another three lines behind her puts this unit at sixteen strong, not including Cindral and I.
“A large number for gathering information.” I keep my voice low, waiting until Cindral has barked orders and the unit begins to move. “Are you expecting trouble?”
“From you?” His voice is dry. “Always.”
But he doesn’t answer my question. Pressing my lips together, I shift atop my horse as we cross the gates. The sentries on guard salute as we pass through into the empty, barren plains surrounding the city before they push the heavy wood closed behind us. The ground here grows little, preferring to crack in a mockery of rivers that weave across the empty landscape ahead of us. The sole sign of life is the low hiss of embercoils disturbed by our approach, the rattling of their tails as they slither into the ground the only noise to be heard.
In the distance, the Veilspire beckons. A dozen peaks, each covered in a blanket of white and worlds away from the heat that already prickles the back of my neck through my veil.
Cindral sounds grim. “We should reach it by nightfall if we ride hard.”
I nod, even though I’ve never ridden for that long. And with my skin the way it is…
So long, thighs. It was fun while it lasted.
“Change of plan.” Cindral interrupts my thoughts. “You’ll ride with me.”
When I slowly turn my head, he’s waiting. The faint glow of flames, embers at the end of a long night, flicker in his pupils as he stares at me. At my fire-filled eyes, a visual representation of how much stronger I am than him. He never quite meets them, always looking elsewhere.
