I try not to collapse in a fit of relief.
Instead, I scoff in agreement. “Yeah, it’s always fucking Revi.”
Poor Revi.
“Fine,” he says. “Since you’re not needed in Lydia, you come with us.”
My mouth pops open in surprise, eyes widening before I can catch myself. “But…uh, sir…”
“Get a helmet and sword,” he orders. “And get that horse up to the king immediately. He doesn’t like the ones we already brought him.”
Shit on a saddle.
Near the king is thelastplace I want to be.
But I don’t dare push my luck. The goddess of favor and filch has already blessed me with my pilfered body and the fact that I got out of that cart in the first place.
So I say, “Of course, sir,” and then I quickly turn around and continue unhitching the horse.
I’m hoping the soldier will walk off and leave me to my escape plans, but instead, he hollers at another soldier, and the two of them start talking right beside me, making it so I can’t sneak away.
I really hate this male. Why is it always the aggravating ones that stick around?
Chewing on a silent curse, I take the horse and start leading it through the barracks, stealing a few looks back as I go. I’m sweating buckets now. All it’s going to take is one soldier to look under the cart or move it.
I need to put distance between us.
I eye the camp, and I manage to swipe a helmet from the ground and shove it over my head. I don’t see any spare swords lying around, but I do manage to grab someone’s waterskin and then steal a piece of meat off the skewer that was left by the fire.
I bite into it as we walk, barely chewing as I swallow the fatty pieces down. Delicious. Then I drain my entire waterskin before tossing it aside. When I wipe my mouth, I try to figure out what to do next.
I need to get rid of this horse.
Just as soon as I have that thought, I start looking around for a soldier I can try and catch unaware so I can pass the horse off to them instead. Then I can run into someone, steal another face, and try to catch up with the Lydia-bound soldiers. Then I can warn the Vulmin.
I can still pull this off, I just need—
“What took you so long?” a soldier barks as he comes up to me. He yanks on the horse’s rein, signaling me to move faster. “Go!”
I get swept into a press of bodies as soldiers line up in formation. My eyes shoot ahead, and there’s the king, dressed in his own stone armor, looking formidable as he stands with the twins.
I want to run in the other direction as fast as I can. My adrenaline wants me to do that too, but I can’t.
So I force myself forward until I’m behind King Carrick, and then I hold out the reins as I bend at the waist. “Sire, your horse.”
Even though I’m in complete glamour, my nervousness spikes, and the stone bands around my body practically burn through my clothes.
Can he sense stone? Will he know it’s me?
A wordless prayer to the goddesses blares in my head.
The king doesn’t even spare me a glance. He snatches the reins from my hands and eyes the horse before mounting himself onto the saddle.
Behind him—behindus—the army is forming more and more perfect rows of soldiers. And I’m right here, at the front. With the Stone King.
Not good.
As soon as he’s on the horse, he turns to one of the Badges. Beside him, the twins sit on their own horses, waiting.
