I threw back the flap and felt even less of her magic in that space. No warmth, none of the peace that she seemed to carry around like it wasn’t the greatest miracle to have ever grace Avanfell.
I opened myself up completely to the thrum of magic that laces itself through everything. I sensed all the expected things, yet the silence of her most perfect note, compared to the rest of the world’s noise, left me wanting.
Gone.
But there was a discordant note there. It was fading, but it had been loud. Unfamiliar magic…
Whoever had taken her had covered their tracks shortly after leaving. It was masterful work.
“Isca,” I whispered. I needed to feel her name on my lips because everything else about her was gone.
It was my fault. She’d trusted me. Said I made her feel safe. And now she was gone.
Magic surged beneath my skin, desperate to level the entire camp with an outpouring of wrath. If it couldn’t have Isca, it wanted blood.
I came very close to burning down our tent. Only the thought that she might not be that far away stopped me.
Replacing every shackle I’d worn for so many years, I stalked into the camp. The guards I’d set on her—ten of them, ten!—were loitering around a lunch fire like cattle. Catrin was setting up the fire for dinner already, humming quietly to herself.
They didn’t know. They didn’t know about the foreign magic that had somehow found its way into our camp, into my tent.
“Where is she?” My voice, honed to a lethal edge and enhanced with magic, cut through all sound like a finely sharpened blade. I wanted to rage, but these mundane men couldn’t have prevented a magical abduction if they weren’t in the tent with her.
Catrin looked up from her stewpot. “What?” She searched the camp, confused. “Isca’s been in the tent all day, writing. I barely saw her this morning, she was so engrossed in her work.”
The curse stirred beneath my ribs, desperate to lash out. I shoved it down with all the force of a battle axe swinging down one final time.
A young man, no older than eighteen, hesitated a few steps behind her ring of guards. His mouth trembled slightly like he wanted to say something. His eyes flicked to mine then to the dirt.
“You,” I snapped, pointing. “What do you know?”
He flinched. “My-my Lord Prince, I-I felt magic. My own is weak but—”
I was on him in two steps. With a voice like cracking thunder, I roared, the sharp echo causing the air around me to gust outward, “Where did it lead?”
The young man shook like a leaf in the hurricane of my anger. His knees knocked together, face as pale as death. His trousers darkened, piss trailing down one leg. Not brave enough to lie—but not brave enough to tell the truth easily either.
The boy rushed to explain. “Toward those trees.” He pointed north with one shaking hand.
Rubbing my face with my hands, I had to look away.This is not what my men need from me. Not what she would want. You need to do better, Emrys.
I probably looked like a crazed beast ready to slice his head from his shoulders.
The curse was so overpowering, my mouth filled with a thirst for blood, choking the “thank you” I wanted to say. Instead, a crack of magic split the ground ten feet away as I clenched my fists, struggling not to also incinerate the earth beneath the innocent boy.
“Go,” I said coldly, even as I fought to keep the chill from my voice. I may have been in the process of losing my mind, but I couldn’t lose my men’s loyalty. “Your vigilance…will be rewarded.”
He bolted like a mouse from a lion.
Catrin approached carefully, her face pale. “Emrys…”
“Not now, Catrin!” I was already walking. I hoped she’d forgive me. “Her guardswillfollow for the search.” That was an orderanda threat.
Eleven pairs of boots pounded the earth until the canopy overhead muffled the sound. It wasn’t long before we found evidence of a struggle. A length of torn fabric danced in the breeze where it had snagged on the rough bark of a fallen trunk. It was red like my banner, with the smallest piece of golden embroidery still clinging to it.
Isca.
Next to that were several sets of heavy boot prints.
