The silence is sudden and profound. I stand for the longest time, watching the blood soak into the earth. Eventually, Mercy noses at my hand, and I draw a shuddering breath.
“Mercy,” I whisper. The sun beats down. We’re miles away from anything, and the king is unconscious at my feet.
And, I now notice, Mercy has a bowed tendon on her left front leg. She wasn’t just stumbling. She waslimping.
Silver hell.
At least she can walk. I don’t have to … to do what I did. I don’t know if I’d have the strength to do that to Mercy.
But she can’t bear the weight of a rider. Not even an unconscious one.
I scrub my hands over my face, then assess my surroundings. I don’t knowexactlywhere we are, because I don’t ride across these rocks when I head for Syhl Shallow. But I know the mountains, and by my estimation, we’re a few hours south of the closest mountain pass. We can’t stay here. The dead horse will draw predators. We’re too exposed.
I take two minutes to attend to human needs and try to think of a plan.
I don’t come up with a good one.
Finally, I drop to a knee and take hold of the king’s arm, pulling his weight over my shoulders. He’s taller than I am, but this is a common soldier drill. I can carry him for a while. The woods are only a few miles off. We’ll find shelter, I’ll wrap Mercy’s leg, and Grey can wake up. And then …
I have no idea. I take hold of Mercy’s reins, sigh, and start walking.
By the time we reach the tree line, darkness has begun to creep toward the mountains. I have flint, so I’ll be able to start a fire, but we’re still nowhere near a stream, and I need to rest. I can’t leave the king, but at some point I’m going to have to. I can’t carry him allthe way to Syhl Shallow—especially not if I’m starving and thirsty and exhausted.
I strip Mercy of her gear and start a fire. Grey hasn’t made a sound, not even when I pulled his weapons and armor free. He lies in the dirt beside the growing flames, and I have no idea what to do.
I think of Jax, his kind, wary eyes, the rough edge of his voice. He can’t be a part of this. He can’t. There’s a part of me that feels like I’m trying to convincemyself. Maybe Grey’s right, and I am a fool.
Maybe I should have followed orders.
The fire is warm, but I shiver anyway. I need to find water.
Every muscle in my body begs me to wait, to rest, to sit here for just one more minute. Against my will, my eyes flicker closed.
When I open them again, the sky is a true black overhead, only a few stars twinkling between the tree branches. The fire has dwindled.
And there, leaning over me, his clawed fingers making five points of pain against my throat, is the scraver Nakiis.
CHAPTER 47
CALLYN
The soldiers don’t allow me or Nora into the barn. I worry about the hens, about Muddy May, but the soldiers bring me buckets of eggs and milk every morning, so at least the animals seem to be tended. I worry about Jax, about Alek, about all the choices I’ve made over the last few months and whether they’ve been therightones.
The day after Jax was to leave, I heard clanging up at the forge, and I don’t know what it means—and I’m too nervous to go check. There are too many soldiers here. Too many guards. It’s … weird. Nora peers out the windows every night.
“What do they want?” she’ll whisper. “Did Lord Alek send them?”
“I don’t think so,” I say, remembering the way Lady Karyl told me to burn his message.
I didn’t. It’s under my mattress near all of Mother’s old gear. I’ve read it a dozen times, but I don’t understand why she’d tell me to burn it without reading it.Our plans have changed. Burn it.Is Lady Karyl tricking me? Or was Alek tricking me?
On the seventh night, Nora is lightly snoring beside me when I heara sound down in the bakery. I freeze in place, thinking of Alek. The worst part is that I can’t decide if I’d be relieved by his presence right now, or alarmed.
I slip out of bed in my sleeping shift and move to the top of the stairs.
Down below, a shadow slides along the far wall, and my heart clenches. But then I hear a tiny voice whisper, “More sweetcakes!”
I frown, hesitating, then ease down a few steps as silently as I dare.
