He says more, something about a tight formation, but I lose track of all the military words. Or maybe I stopped hearing anything afteryou and Jax ride abreast.
I give Teddy a nudge with my heels, and he moves to walk alongside Mercy. My heart is still thrumming along, trapped in the space between whatever just happened with Malin and Sephran, and whatever’s going on with the dead courier. I expect the soldiers to take off at a gallop, so I’m surprised when they don’t.
Tycho hasn’t said a word to me, and he’s all hard edges right now. But I still want to know what’s going on.
“We aren’t running?” I say in Syssalah.
He glances over. “No. If someone is watching for couriers, we don’t want to give the impression that we’re spooked— or that we’re carrying something of value.” He nods in the direction of where he found the body. “If we were just soldiers on patrol, we’d simply make note of itand take the information back to our superiors. We don’t want to look important. We want to lookboring.” As I consider that, he adds, “Do you remember the night we met?”
It’s so unexpected that my thoughts stall on the question.
Because I remember every minute of that night. The glow from the forge. Sweet Mercy blowing warm breaths against my palm. The way Tycho pulled a forged blade from the wall and spun with it, making his cloak flare. I thought he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. I still do.
Tycho is still talking. I force myself to focus.
“You asked why I don’t travel with guards,” he says. “I told you that a lone man on a horse doesn’t earn much attention,” he continues. “But a man trailed by guards gets plenty.”
I do remember that. I glance at his rich black armor, completely different from the gold- and- red- liveried soldiers.
Rich black, just like mine. “Do you think they targeted the other courier because she’s from Syhl Shallow?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t recognize her. But Lia Mara wouldn’t send someone without substantial training. It’s possible she was ambushed. Something might have happened in Syhl Shallow— or someone might have known she was coming this way.”
“So we might not be a target,” I say.
“It’s safer to assume we are. We have no idea what kind of message she carried.” He nods out at the fields. “Look sharp.”
His voice has a tone of finality. I look sharp.
Wind blows across the fields, bringing relief until that sickly sweet smell grows stronger. Months ago, when Tycho and King Grey defeated the Truthbringers in Briarlock, they spent hours stripping the bodies of weapons, then dragged them down the lane to burn them. I still remember Tycho’s voice, cool and practical, as he explained how dead bodies get a lot worse before they get better. It was late spring, and I remember the smell then.
It’s worse now.
Too late, I discover that we’re riding right past the body. I don’t want to look, but morbid curiosity forces my gaze down. I can’t help it. The corpse lies unnaturally twisted in the grass, and I wonder if they shot her off her horse. Scuffed marks in the turf show where a horse spooked— or maybe tried to bolt. Her tunic has been ripped open, and streaks of blood are smeared across her bare chest. By the way her body is twisted and the clothing is torn, I can’t tell if they violated her, or if they were just looking for whatever she carried. I know Tycho used to carry royal missives under his armor.
I jerk my gaze up and away from the courier’s chest, because I don’t want to stare at her body— but the rest of her is worse. Birds have already gotten to her eyes, because the sockets are empty, leaving dark, wet gaps in her face. Flies are swarming over the wounds, and some buzz near us. I shudder and shoo them away a little too aggressively, swearing under my breath. At the front of the line, Sephran glances down dispassionately, but behind me, Leo makes a sound of disgust.
Malin speaks up from behind Tycho. He keeps his voice low. “We never figured out what happened to your safe house.”
I glance at Tycho, then back at Malin. “What happen to safe house?”
“I don’t know,” Tycho says in Syssalah. “When we arrived, it was burned to the ground. No sign of anyone. It could’ve been accidental— or it could’ve been deliberate. A trap . . . or an ambush.” He pauses, then glances back at Malin and adds in Emberish, “That’s at least two days’ ride from here, though.”
A trap . . . or an ambush.I swallow and look around again. Wind whips through the grass, sneaking under my armor to bring another wave of relief from the heat. Tendrils of hair pull loose to stick to the sweat on my cheeks.
The wind isn’t cold, but I cast my gaze up anyway, searching the sky for any sign of scravers. Nothing— not even a cloud.
I shiver anyway. The courier’s body left me feeling very unsettled.
I think of that day I fought alongside the king in Briarlock.Breathe, he kept saying. His voice was steady and sure, as if violence was just a part of the day, as simple as drawing water from a well. But the memory of that moment brings me reassurance now, because I draw a slow breath, then let it out.
Tycho looks over, and it’s as if he’s remembering the same battle through different eyes. “Fate has already drawn a path beyond this moment,” he says softly.
He’s talking about the potential for violence, but he could be talking aboutus, too. “Let’s follow it through,” I say, and my voice is a little rough.
He nods, his blond hair sparking in the sunlight. “Let’s follow it through.”
CHAPTER 12
