Dereck Thorne’s motto, again and again, a drumbeat in a broken throat.
At last, Thalen released his grasp. The scent of burned iron hung heavy. Eamon’s color drained, and his body collapsed with a dull thud.
We left the cell without a word. Thalen turned to report to Alaric. I took the coiled stairs alone.
Smuggled weapons there might be, but if they were scattered across the city, our time was better spent fortifying the castle.
Outside, I fetched my horse from the outpost stables. Grison, silver as frost, mane pale as winter sunlight, had not left the courtyardin days. He snorted when I neared, as if resenting that I would drag him to the gutters instead of the wilds.
We rode out through the filth, past the stinking lanes, past the markets where the air turned cleaner and the cobbles returned beneath his hooves.
That was when I saw Loren.
He moved through the crowd with that quick, birdlike urgency of his, eyes darting, breath shallow. I had dismissed him earlier. Why was he still here?
“Loren,” I called, reining Grison to a halt. He turned sharply and hurried toward me. “What is going on?”
He hesitated, frowning, words caught somewhere in his throat. Was he hiding something?
“It’s Evie, Magister,” he said at last.
Her name struck like a blade to the ribs. My heart stumbled, finding no rhythm. I had tried to bury her, her lips, her voice, her scent, but she always surfaced, creeping through ash and blood alike.
“She went to the mountain this morning and hasn’t come back,” he rushed out, too fast, too breathless. “I’m going after her.”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” I said evenly. “She’s probably still there. It’s a mountain, Loren.”
“No.” He shook his head. “She’s always back for afternoon tea.”
Afternoon tea?I arched a brow despite myself. The concern etched into his face left no space for amusement.
I exhaled slowly. “Why did she go?”
“She’s been investigating diseased crops near the village. She found strange vines creeping down from the woods. She said they came from the mountain.”
Vines. The mountain.
Why had I not heard of this?
Something twisted in my gut, an old, wordless instinct. Not logic. Not duty. Something worse. It told me only one thing.
Go.
It was concern, I told myself. Worry. Not fear. Not the tight ache rising behind my ribs.
I clicked my tongue, and Grison turned toward the northern road.
“Stay here,” I ordered. “Return to the castle. Rest for the evening. I’ll find her.”
Loren’s jaw worked as if he might argue, but at last his shoulders slackened.
“Make sure nothing’s happened to her,” he said, voice sharp with command. The only order he had ever given me.
I nodded once and pressed my heels into Grison’s flank. He surged forward, horseshoes striking sparks from the cobbles. We tore through the city gates, the wind whipping my shoulder cape behind me like a dark banner, the only thought echoing in my head…
Find Evie.
Finding Evie’strail was simple. She had taken the goat path that wound along the hillside, climbing toward the mountain pass. Grison huffed beneath me, eager for the climb. We hadn’t gone hunting in days, and he’d missed the open air.
