I saw it now. Gelida had arranged the parley to steal her from me. She was probably halfway to their capital by now.
They were gambling on my self-control being sufficient to keep me in line, but my self-control fled to unseen lands the moment I found that scrap of fabric.
Flames licked the edges of my vision. My heartbeat hammered through my veins, the fire of my magic dancing beneath my skin. The ground blackened in a ring around my boots as my temper truly slipped the leash.
They took her.
They took her.
My peace, my madness, my magic-bound salvation. The one person who’d dared to touch me without flinching. Who’d walked into my storm and remained.
I turned, teeth clenched, eyes sparking with the curse. The soldiers scattered. They knew that look. These men had seen it once before when I was blood-soaked and silent.
I strode back to camp, not caring if they followed. I went straight to my tent and tore open my weapons chest. Retrieved my short sword. My broadsword. Daggers. I belted them all to my side.
Then my armor. The full set. Breastplate, pauldrons, bracers. One gauntlet. Enough to help keep me alive long enough for the curse to heal me.
I’d either return with her or die trying.
“Arth!” I bellowed.
I ordered my general to take charge, ensuring he kept the troops prepared for a fight until I returned.
Minutes later, my squire came running with Arth at a trot. Now I was doubly glad I’d taken one of the spare horses to the parley. He’d be well-rested enough to keep up with my panic. The great black warhorse was already stomping, heaving in lungfuls through his nostrils. My mood fed him. He could sense the violence and wanted to join in.
I mounted and kicked him into a trot.
Catrin called after me, “Bring her back!”
I would do exactly that.
My aim was north. The wind whipped through my hair, and my heart pounded with a dark hunger that gnawed in my chest, desperate for blood. I rode harder, driven by my need for her.
For her voice. For her heart, that was too big for a man like me. For the other half of my soul.
I would find her.
And may the cursed gods help me lay waste to the ones who’d thought they could take her from me.
Chapter 51
Emrys
The wind off the northern ridge stung my face as I rode, the scent of pine and winter in it, even in summer. Arth’s hooves struck the earth like war drums beneath me, the rhythm steady, as unrelenting as the rage running through my veins.
I hoped we could still avoid war if only I left. Maybe that was a dream, but it was all I could offer my people.
When she’d vanished, the last fragment of my calm had left with her. With every breath, the curse struggled to break free and take me over like never before.
She was alive. She had to be. But she wasn’tsafe. I’d burn the entire world if that was what it took to get her back.
Those cursed gods, who loved chaos and blood, must’ve heard my thoughts because a horn blasted in the distance.
Shadows wearing the deep blue of Gelida erupted from the tree line ahead. An ambush.
Leading them, armored and waiting for droves of men to die before him, was Cadoc atop his horse.
Coward.
