Anwen turned the wineglass in her hand, eyes pinned to the flicker of firelight along its rim. “You think he’d agree?”
“You’re not even going to ask what kind of man he is?”
Anwen scoffed. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” I said with more than enough vehemence for our intimate conversation. “He’s the best sort of man, Princess. I would trust him with my life. Emrys trusts him. And I think if you can convince him Gelida is worth saving—and worth sharing—he’d work to support you.”
She looked at me then, gaze sharp as a drawn blade. “And what do you want out of this, Isca?”
“To stop a war. To stop the Assembly from taking over multiple kingdoms in the chaos—which seems to be their intent.”
“The Assembly sent you to Darreth, and yet you are so quick to stab them in the back?” Anwen asked, a hint of suspicion in her eyes.
“With a sword to my throat.” I answered truthfully.
“I figured as much.” Anwen exhaled slowly through her nose. “Well, if either prince agrees to speak with me, I’ll hear them out.”
“I have to convince Emrys not to kill you first.” I lifted my goblet in a mock toast. “To outmaneuvering the Assembly.”
Her wine was gone, but Anwen still raised her goblet. She rose then, as if the conversation had ended. I wanted to speak more, but I took the gift of her cordial exchange for what it was.
As she crossed to the door that led from her room, I said softly, “Anwen.”
She paused, hand on the frame.
“You don’t have to keep hiding forever.”
She didn’t look back. “Don’t tell me what I have to do, Caervorn girl. I’m sleeping in my late mother’s chambers tonight. I’ll wake you when your prince arrives.”
Then she vanished into the darkness beyond, and the fire snapped in the quiet, as if it, too, had been holding its breath.
Chapter 56
Emrys
Smoke drifted in ribbons up from the houses behind Tir Gelida’s outer palisade. Beyond those stood a series of stone-hearted towers that had been stripped of all their ancient vanity. Their only nod to the fact that the royal family lived within was the deep blue and silver banners decorating the roof.
My fingers tightened on the hilt of my sword. I’d imagined this moment in a hundred ways on the ride here, but none of them had looked like this. Too quiet.
Behind me, my captive was tied to his horse, still breathing. As far as I was concerned, he was now returned to his people. Inflectionless, I said, “You’re free to go. Act against me or mine again, and I’ll kill you slowly.”
They could free him from his bindings or let him rot. I didn’t care. He trotted off without another word.
I met no resistance as I forced the towering gates open with a push of magic. The city within the walls was subdued, with day barely broken. There were only a few scattered people on the streets. Several pairs of eyes peeked from windows but didn’t come out. It almost seemed like the city had been cleared for my arrival.
I cracked my neck as the beast scratched at its human cage, pushing me in the direction of the tallest tower.
Isca. It had been little more than a day since she’d been taken, but it felt like an eternity.
The thread between us stretched taut, her presence pulling at me long before I saw the soldiers watching me from the inner ramparts.
I expected arrows, spells, some form of resistance to rain down on me. But the inner gates opened, this time without me needing to push. The frozen guardsmen only stared down. Dread washed over me, not for my own safety, but because of what I might discover.
As I led my stolen horse through the gate, my right hand gripped the familiar weight of my sword, and a surge of power thrummed ready in my left where I held the reins. The first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon, illuminating row after row of steel-clad men lining the main avenue beyond.
Finally, the fight.
My sword arm rose at the shout that split the tense quiet. Yet, it wasn’t the roar of charge I’d been bracing myself to hear. Each soldier relaxed his ax or spear and moved to stand at parade rest. The booming voice that had directed them moved closer—a heavyset, grizzled man with a war-ax strapped to his back. His expression was wary, eyes scanning, but he gave no sign of hostility. His hand didn’t even flinch toward his axe.
