I grunt and set my jaw. I don’t believe that atall. “I’ll be ready to leave in an hour. Try to keep up.”
We ride hard and fast toward the border. The air is brisk and the footing is sure, so Mercy makes the miles vanish. When we near the road that leads to Briarlock, every instinct is begging me to call Jake to turn, to wait.
As if she can read my thoughts, Mercy slows as we near the signpost.
I hesitate, considering—but Jax has probably forgotten I exist. We shot arrows and shared apple tarts. It was fleeting. A diversion. His father will drink himself to death and Jax will end up marrying Callyn and they’ll have a dozen beautiful children.
I scowl, cluck to Mercy with my tongue, and she puts her head down to flatten into a gallop.
I could talk to Jacob for a distraction, but I’m worried he’s going to dig at me about Grey, and that’s not better. I set a hard pace instead. It pays off, because when we stop at night, we’ve covered more ground than I usually do, and we’re both too tired to do anything more than pitch forward into sleep.
By the third afternoon, however, heavy clouds roll over Emberfall, bringing cold rains, with enough wind and lightning to force us into an inn earlier than I’d like. I see to the horses while Jake arranges for lodging. There are men in the stables, speaking low while they rub down their own horses, but I’m so tangled up with my own thoughts that I’m barely paying them any attention.
But then one of them says, “I haven’t seen that much damage to an animal since that monster was ravaging the towns.”
“When I was in Gaulter,” the other man says, “I heard the mountain lions would sometimes get their livestock.”
“This wasn’t anywhere near the mountains,” says the first. “Three of my best ewes, clawed from neck to flank.”
I turn Mercy loose in her stall, then latch the door slowly, listening.
“I heard this king once conjured a monster just like the old one,” the first man continues roughly. “Were you at the town meeting when those Truthbringers were talking about the things he’s done in Syhl Shallow?”
“I don’t care what he does over there. After the way they marched on us, they deserve whatever they get. The king wouldn’t turn a monster on his own people.”
“Arewe his people?” the first man scoffs. “How long has that bastard been in Syhl Shallow?”
I’m frozen in place. I shake out my saddle blanket again, just for an excuse to be in the barn. It reminds me of the way Callyn was terrifiedof my magic, or the way Nora made whimsical comments about little Sinna having powers of her own. It’s so odd to be on both sides of this: toknowthat the king and queen truly do care about their people, but to hear the way gossip and rumor fly through towns so quickly that Grey and Lia Mara could never hope to stop it. Just like the conversation I’m hearing right now: anecdotes are accepted as fact, while true announcements from the Crown are viewed with skepticism—if not outright suspicion.
“Marlon,” the second man is saying. “Don’t be spinning stories about magic just because you don’t have enough dogs watching your sheep. I suspect Bethany might have a few words about the ale you’ve been drinking.”
“Dogs wouldn’t have stopped whatever did this! It’s not normal, I tell you. I think those Truthbringers might be right. Whatever magic they have on the other side of the border is coming here …”
His voice trails off as they walk out of the barn.
I try to decide whether any of this is significant. We’ve known that Truthbringers were becoming more prevalent on this side of the border. It’s not like wariness about magic is exclusive to Syhl Shallow. Emberfall has its own share of trauma.
It’s just a few dead ewes, though. Why would anyone dothatwith magic? We’re too far southeast for mountain lions, but wolves aren’t uncommon here. But then I realize what he said.
Three of my best ewes, clawed from neck to flank.
My heart thumps hard in my chest. I know a creature with claws that could do damage like that. A creature I broke out of a cage weeks ago.
Maybe the king was right.
I scowl, finish with the horses, then head for the inn.
I plan to lock myself in a room, but Jake has found a table near the hearth, and there’s enough food to feed an army.
“Quit hiding from conversation,” he calls to me mercilessly. “Sit and eat.”
I sigh and drop into a chair. “I’m not hiding.”
“Oh really?” He grins and grabs a roasted chicken leg. “Has someone been chasing us?”
Maybe being away from the Crystal City has taken some of my edge off, because that makes me smile. “We’re not goingthatfast.”
“Wait—are yousmiling?” He reaches out to grab my chin. “Hold on—is this a disguise?”
