My smile widens. We’re close enough to Lastalorre that these people won’t be like the Suross, distant and reserved, rejecting their king.The citizens from his capital city will likely be rejoicing that Maddox Kyronan has finally returned.
I turn back to Ky, sure his expression will have brightened further, that he’ll be proud to let me see his people now that we’re safely arriving. Maybe he’ll even make a bigger display of magic to flaunt his power, the way Father will sometimes summon clouds to form a perfect array of sunbeams over the royal family when we travel.
But to my surprise, Ky scowls, crushing the fire out of his palm like it’s displeasing. Instead of sitting straighter, preparing to greet his people, his shoulders have drooped. He looks like he’d almost rather turn back.
The captain glances at him. “We’ve seen the damage. You had to know.”
Ky nods. Any hint of a smile is gone from his face. His expression is all hard lines and stormy eyes.
“Know what?” I say.
They exchange another glance and say nothing.
Across the fields, more people have come out of their homes and outbuildings. They’re up a hill, barely more than silhouettes with the sun at their back. From the size of the people, most of them look like men.
“What have you done?” they shout. “Nothing will grow! Don’t you see? Don’t yousee?”
Around us, the guards have gone stony-faced and silent.
I fix my eyes on the king and shorten up the reins to my horse. “Ky. Why are they shouting? Tell me.”
He sets his jaw and says nothing.
I reach out and grab his rein, hauling both our horses to a stop—exactly the way he did to me.
The king is stronger, and he wrenches free, whirling to face me. Before he does, I realize Asher’s horse has all but slid to a stop beside mine. He’s so close, his knee brushing my knee. They’re suddenly facing each other like adversaries again. King and killer. Warrior and assassin.
Ky’s soldiers have shifted, responding to the sudden hostility.
“Stand down,” says Captain Zale—and to my surprise, his tone is mild. He taps his knuckles to the king’s arm. “Ky. The Suross didn’t know you—but these people do. You need to tell hersomething.” Hejerks his head toward the gathered people, a few of whom now appear to be running down the hill toward us. “Or they’re going to do it for you.”
I look at Ky, and he stares right back at me. His jaw is still set, his shoulders tight, no inch of give in his expression.
But the barest flicker of emotion in his gaze takes me by surprise. It’s so unexpected and vulnerable I almost don’t recognize it:Fear.
Running downhill, the people don’t take long to reach us. It’s only six of them, and they’re older men, dressed in loose linen and calfskin, with scuffed boots—definitely farmers or tradesmen. No soldiers. But Callum and Garrett swing down from their horses to block them from getting any closer.
“It’s gotten worse!” one is shouting at Ky. He kicks at the ground. “Look what’s happening! Don’t you see?”
“You swore to fix it!” shouts another. He plants his hands right on Callum’s chest and gives a solid shove. The soldier shoves him back so hard that the man nearly goes sprawling, but Callum doesn’t pursue him. He casts a glance up at the king.
“Iwillfix it,” Ky grits out. But he taps two fingers to his shoulder, and Callum gives a sharp nod.
I remember his lesson about their signals.Don’t pick a fight, but stand your ground.
The first man takes a swing at Garrett, but it’s easily blocked. When he spits at the soldier, Garrett grabs his tunic and hooks his ankle. The man sits down hard.
“Be civil,” Garrett snaps at him.
The man glares at him. “Tell thekingto be civil,” he growls, surging off the ground to get in Garrett’s face. “He’s letting his magic kill us all.”
The next two men are the oldest, probably nearing fifty, and they haven’t advanced on the soldiers like the others. More shouts are coming from the hill, and I realize more people have gathered together between the farmhouses and outbuildings, and their shouts seem to be drawing attention from the gates leading into the city. Far ahead, others have begun to come through the gates, stopping to watch. It’s too far to see how many people are there, but it seems like a lot.
One of the older men looks back at the crowd near the farmhouses,then shifts his gaze to the crowd forming outside the city gates. Tension sizzles among us all, and I realize others are beginning to run down the hill, all shadowed figures in the fading sunlight.
After a bare hesitation, the man looks back to the guards blocking his path to the king.
The king, who still hasn’t explained what’s happening.
