Rangar crumpled the invitation in his fist. “According to the messenger, the other royal families have all agreed to attend.”
“Even the Viklund family from Vil-Rossengard?” Bryn said. The Viklunds were notoriously independent, usually communicating only with their sister kingdom of Vil-Kevi.
Rangar nodded. “I told the messenger that we would be in attendance as well. We have no choice. We must advocate for the use of magic. If it is outlawed throughout the Eyrie, the Baer people will not be able to sustain themselves through our harsh winters.”
Bryn looked out at the swirling snow. “It frightens me, Rangar. The Eyrie has been on the verge of war for months, and now, with tensions this high, every royal family will be together under one roof?”
Rangar drew her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His lips warmed her numb skin. “You are always safe with me, my queen. No one would dare raise a hand in violence while I am around—or they’d risk having it cut off.”
Chapter 27
THE SOUTHERN ROAD . . . Zandir the dark mage . . . proof of guilt . . . two riders alone . . . warm in the cold
As the time neared to set out for the ride to the Wollin, Bryn doubled down on her studies. In one of Trei’s old books, she found a passage on the Rumese tradition of holding annual hunts with trained hunting dogs. Thinking of what Mars’s spy discovered about the baron’s dog trainers dying suddenly, she focused on those pages.
In the kingdom of Ruma, there was once a dark mage by the name of Zandir who was known for his experimentation with magic. It was said that he had a fascination with hunting dogs and was always seeking ways to improve their speed and strength.
Zandir began working with a group of skilled dog trainers, using his dark magic to imbue the animals with otherworldly powers. He called this spell “cannin ka ulrick,” which roughly translated to "the speed of dogs."
The spell's results were astounding, as the hunting dogs became faster and stronger than any others in the kingdom. They were able to run for longer periods of time without tiring and could take down larger prey with ease, though the spell left the dogs with black tongues.
However, Zandir's actions did not go unnoticed, and many feared the consequences of such powerful animals being unleashed upon the land. Some even whispered that the mage sought to use the dogs for nefarious purposes.
Bryn closed the book and hugged it to her chest. This was it; she felt certain. In league with the Rumese royal family, Baron Marmose had ordered his dog trainers to use the “speed of dogs” hex on a pair of wolves to turn them into berserkirs like in the legend. The berserkir wolf pair must have reproduced, and they’d released the wolves somewhere near the Vil-Kevi border, so far from Ruma as to cast off any suspicion—and to ensure the berserkir attacks were far from their own people.
“Rangar,” she breathed when she finally found him conferring with Oliver and the captain of the army in the portico surrounding the yew tree. Rangar dismissed the others with a nod, and Bryn rushed up with the book. “Look at this.”
She showed him the passage and gave him time to read it, then pointed out, “The black tongues. The superior speed. The fact that the berserkir wolves don’t act with frenzied bloodlust but rather as though they were trained to attack. This essentially proves that Ruma is behind the berserkir wolves.”
He closed the book, his face stony as he considered this. “It’s astounding, Bryn. You figured out what no mages or spies could. We will take this information with us to the grand parlay.”
“No,” she insisted. “The Hytooth family is neutral when it comes to magic. And Queen Amelia is rumored to be so elderly that her senses are dulled. She might easily be swayed by the royal families of Ruma and Zaradona and Dresel, especially if they suggest the Woll people are in danger.”
“So, what do you suggest?”
“That we leave now. Early. We arrive at Hytooth Palace before any of the other royal families and have a private audience with Queen Amelia. We get her on our side before the others have a chance to influence her.”
Rangar dragged his nails through his hair. “Hytooth Palace is normally five days by carriage, but if this snow continues, that could add days to the journey. Even if we left today, a small delay might get us there at the same time as the others.”
“So, then we won’t take a carriage. We can ride faster on Legend and Fable.”
He cocked his head. “Just the two of us?”
“Valenden can rule in our absence.”
“Dear gods,” Rangar muttered huskily but then drew in a long breath. “Your plan might be our best option. It would be a long, hard ride, though. Are you prepared for that?”
“I can manage. I’ve been riding Fable every chance I get. Oliver has been a good instructor.”
“Not too good, I hope,” Rangar said, eyes flashing.
“Oh, don’t get jealous. Besides, you know Oliver has his sights set on Saraj.”
Rangar handed her back the book. “Safeguard this. I’ll speak to Val and tell the stable to ready the horses for a long voyage. We’ll leave tonight and hope to miss the worst of the storm. If the weather improves, we could be in the Wollin as soon as the day after tomorrow.”
She started to rush to their room to pack, but he captured her arm. “Wait, Bryn.” He snagged her gaze and held it. “I promised I’d keep you safe. I mean it.”
She touched his scars, letting her fingers trail down their length. “I believe you, Rangar Barendur. And for what it’s worth, I don’t intend to let anything happen to you, either.”
