I keep thinking of that moment during the card game, when he asked how someone could harm the king. Rhen said he’s either very innocent or very clever.
Maybe there’s more going on here than we realize. Maybe he’sboth.
“Send whatever team you like,” Grey is saying to Rhen, and his voice is vicious. “Whoever took them will be dead by the time you get there.”
Without another word, the king swings aboard his horse, tearing out of the stable with as much speed as Rhen used earlier.
I don’t have time to think. Grey might hate me. He might see me as a disappointment. He might kill me for coming after him—or he’ll just use magic to accelerate his pace to where I can’t keep up.
But Jax didn’t do this. Iknowhe didn’t. Maybe I’ve made mistakes, but on this point, I’m sure. Whatever’s waiting for the king in Briarlock is bigger than Jax and Callyn.
I remember the Uprising, how so many people died in the attack. How Grey’s magic tore through the Crystal Palace and killed anyone in its path. I remember walking the halls with the queen, looking for survivors.
I don’t want to consider what will happen when he gets to Briarlock.
And just as I have the thought, I realize why we didn’t find Iishellasan steel among Alek’s things. I realize why he’s been spending so much time in Briarlock.
Of course it’s not here. It’sthere.
I yank the tie on Mercy’s tether and look at Rhen. “It’s a trap. I need to go after him.”
I don’t hear his answer. I don’t even know if he’ll figure it out. But I’ve already swung into the saddle, and Mercy flattens into a gallop before my feet find the stirrups.
CHAPTER 46
TYCHO
Grey sets a brutal pace. Wind and rain whip at my face, stinging my eyes, sending my cloak streaming out behind me until it makes no difference. Mercy feels the urgency, because she puts her head down and throws her head into the run. Grey doesn’t have a long lead, but it’s far enough that I’m not sure he knows I’ve followed. Just when I’m beginning to worry that Mercy won’t be able to keep up, Grey’s horse slows to a canter, and I’m able to draw alongside.
I don’t know if he thinks I’m trying tohelphim or trying tostophim—and honestly, I’m not entirely sure myself. But I don’t get a chance to say a word. He only keeps a tight grip on the rein long enough to say, “Don’t fall behind,” and then his horse digs its hooves into the mud and springs ahead.
And then … I feel his magic. Or maybe I simply sense the change in Mercy. Her breathing is no longer labored. Her stride feels effortless, despite the cold rain and the mud underfoot. The sky is pitch-black, the rain pouring down, but she feels like we could gallop for hours.
And we do.
I lose track of time. The rain eventually stops, but the wind from Mercy’s speed keeps me shivering under my cloak. Whatever magic Grey is using to keep the horses from tiring doesn’t extend to us—or at least tome. I alternate holding the reins in one hand so I can hold the other under the warm saddle blanket while she runs. My joints begin to ache, and by the time the sun creeps over the horizon, a dull knife of hunger has begun to twist in my gut. In a way, I’m glad for the soreness and irritation, because it pulls my thoughts away from everyone who might be in danger. Jax, accused of something I’m sure he hasn’t done. Callyn and Nora, wrapped up in something bigger than they realize. The queen and little Sinna, at the mercy of …who? Who else is Alek working with?
I don’t know. But I can’t stop thinking of the tears on the queen’s cheeks on the night I learned they’d lost the baby. Little Sinna’s voice.He said I have to be patient, but he would come back.
Nakiis? I can’t quite make that work out in my head. Alek hates magic. He wouldn’t be working with a scraver. The queen and the princess would have been surrounded by a full contingent of palace guards, anyway. No one could simply walk into the palace and kidnap the queen. Few people could have gotten close.
My thoughts spin and spin … and go nowhere. Mercy gallops on. I knot the reins and hook my fingers in her mane in an effort to stop them from cramping.
If Grey feels the effects, he’s ignoring it.
I try to do the same.
Once the sun rises, I begin to recognize landmarks. Without having to stop, we’ve covered almost two days’ worth of travel in what I estimate to be twelve hours. If we continue at this pace, we’ll tear into Briarlock in the middle of the night.
Exhausted. Starving. And alone.
I need to think about this like a soldier. I was never a tactician, butclose proximity to the king allowed me access to a lot of senior officers, so I know how to plot an assault. We have no idea who we’ll be facing—and it’ll bedaysbefore anyone from Ironrose can reach the small village. We have no idea who else read that letter either. The courier channels aren’t the most secure. Would word have reached the Crystal Palace? Will there be soldiers to meet us? Now that Emberfall and Syhl Shallow are at peace, the guard stations at the two mountain passes are only minimally staffed, mostly with longbowmen and messengers—few true combat warriors.
When the Truthbringers attacked the palace, there were hundreds of them, and all at once. They swarmed into the castle and nearly overtook the guards and soldiers. We weren’t prepared.
We’re not prepared now. Are there hundreds waiting to ambush the king in Briarlock? Hundreds of people with weapons made from Iishellasan steel? We need a plan.
I don’t know who I’m fooling. We need anarmy.
