‘The shadow wolves always come back to where blood was last spilled. And then there’s the occasional darksoul troupe that breaks past our aerial forces. I don’t even need to mention the strange ways their magic can make a mortal die. And with the raphons … once that sun truly sets … the real danger begins.’
He’d crossed his large arms and was now casually leaning against an aspen tree with his broad shoulders, his perfect muscles practically glistening in the fresh moonlight.
He raised a pale, blood-flecked brow, as if he were silently mocking her.
Challenging her.
Bastard.
She huffed out a breath.
‘I …’
Gods.
He was right.
And she was a coward.
‘… I will stay. Fornow,’ Ezer said, lifting her chin high as she picked up the fringes of her tattered cloak and stepped through the heavy snow back towards him. ‘Though I should remind you, I’ll ask for that life debt to be repaid in another way soon enough.’
She’d be a fool to give away the promise of a prince.
She began to march downhill towards the road.
‘Minder.’
She turned and found him grinning at her like a hungry lion. ‘The road isthat way.’
5
Ezer had never seen war, but she imagined the aftermath would have been something like this. Bodies were strung across the snow. The wolves had shredded half the wagon’s worth. The prisoners who had chosen to become soldiers hadn’t even made it to Augaurde, and they’d already been ripped apart piece by piece.
So much blood, so much death.
And …
More Sacred had arrived.
Arawn greeted them as if he knew them well.
There were three others checking the survivors who would soon become soldiers.
A Sacred woman, with dark skin and pale white braids, a strip of light leather across her brow. She bore a white and blue crest behind the mark of wings on her chest – the mark for a Watermage. But there was yet another crest beside that.
It was in the shape of a war eagle’s talons, poised for the kill.
Ezer’s eyes widened.
She was aRider.
And so was the other one beside her. He was enormous, evenlarger than Arawn, if that was possible. He bore red behind his traditional winged crest, which marked him as an Ehvermage. They often specialized as healers but could make fine trackers as well.
Ezer looked around, searching for a sign of their eagles.
Gods, it would be like a balm to her soul. A way to wash away the horrors of today, if she could just lay eyes ononesacred bird, every feather woven by the gods.
The last arrival was kneeling beside a prisoner, his bare hands pressed to the man’s throat as he checked for a pulse. His back was to Ezer.
