The slice across his jaw looks even worse up close. “Jax didn’t tell me you were injured,” I say as he writes.
“I don’t even know what got me,” he says without looking up. “It might’ve been a bolt like yours.”
If so, that was a near miss. An inch lower, and it would’ve gone right through his throat. No magesmith would’ve been able to fixthat.
In my silence, he looks up. “If you’re sending Leo back alone, what arewedoing?”
It’s a good question— and despite thinking about it for the last hour, I don’t have a good answer. My primary goal in sending Leo is a matter of speed. That leaves four of us— and only two horses. Briarlock is a tiny town, but we’re miles away from the center of it. Even if we could find more horses— questionable at best— I can’t decide if it would be more prudent to ride on to the Crystal Palace, or if we should turn back and follow Leo.
As usual, I’m torn between two countries.
Then again, maybe it doesn’t matter. It hurts to sit in a chair. If I setoff on horseback, this shoulder won’t handle it well. And in a fight, I’d be worthless.
I have no idea what we’d find at the Crystal Palace, anyway. Xovaar sensed my magic last night. Could he find me again? And what if the Truthbringers are taking their weapons to go after the king— while the scravers are coming after me? Would I be leading them right back to the queen? Right when the king isn’t there to help protect her?
“So the plan is crystal clear, huh?” says Malin.
I run a hand across my face. I’m sure I look as exhausted as he does. “The king is usually the one with the plans. I just follow orders.”
I think of Grey sitting in Rhen’s strategy room, the way his gaze finally cleared and he really looked at me.Be safe.
I wish he were here to give orders right now.
Across from me, Malin looks like he wishes the same thing.
Outside, lightning flickers in the window. A few moments later, thunder crackshard, and we both jump. Almost immediately, a man gives a sharp shout of alarm.
Malin smirks. “I guess that one scared Seph.”
Good, I think. But then there’s another shout, followed by a higher-pitched voice crying out in dismay.
Followed by the screech of a scraver.
Malin and I scrape out of our chairs at the same time. I’m immediately hit by a wave of dizziness, but Mal is already out the door. I stumble out behind him, realizing too late that I have no weapons and no armor, and I will be absolutelyuselessin a scraver fight.
But we don’t find Xovaar and the other Truthbringers in the lane, we find Lord Alek driving a carriage. Callyn is on the seat beside him. Overhead, a scraver screeches again, and I’m shocked to recognize Igaa, Nakiis’s frequent companion. The rain has turned ice cold, stinging my cheeks.
Sephran stands alone, a nocked arrow drawn taut on his bow,blocking them from going farther. “Youwill not pass ?!” he’s shouting in the downpour.
I have no idea whatanyof them are doing here, but a small, dark part of my heart finds one brief moment to hope Alek keeps driving that carriage right over Sephran.
No, not really.
Well, maybe a little.
I might not even need to wish for that, because Igaa changes course in the air, and she seems ready to dive through the sky to tackle him. Sephran is already shifting to shoother, so I shout, “Igaa! No!”
She banks midair, but Sephran shoots anyway. For a moment, I think we’ll have a repeat of the night when Malin shot Nakiis, but the arrow barely misses. Igaa sails past him to land in front ofme, skidding a little in the mud.
“Tycho,” she says. “We have found you.”
I can’t tell if I’m still dazed or if this is really happening. I shiver in the rain, which feels like sleet as it hits my skin. “Were you looking?”
“Yes,” she says. “I have brought Nakiis. He needs your help.”
I can barely process that, because behind her, Sephran is already nocking another arrow. “Hold!” I snap at him. “Igaa is not my enemy.” But then I glance pasthimto see Alek and Callyn climbing down from the carriage. The rain continues to pour down, soaking all of us. I havenoidea what to make of any of this.
“Is that the girl from the palace?” Mal says, peering through the rain. He’s got a hand on the hilt of his sword, but he hasn’t drawn a weapon.
