“Uncle,” I breathed, the energy in my body dissipating as I rushed to his side. He lay crumpled on the leaves and dirt, motionless but still breathing. My eyes roved his body for signs of injury—had the last man attacked when I was distracted?
But I could find no wound. His breaths were strong and even, his pulse thumping beneath my touch.
No. No, no, no, no, no.
A rustling in the grass made me whip my neck around, but all spells fled my mind as the injured snow leopard stalked toward me and my unconscious uncle. Before I could think, the air around me tightened. My lungs constricted—burning, aching, tugging.A spell.
But who was casting it?
The beast reared up on its strong back legs, preparing to lash at me, when suddenly, it let out a strangled cry. I heard the snap of its neck and it fell to my side, dirt scattering beneath its weight.
It was dead.
And in its place stood brown boots. Tight, black pants. A dark tunic and gray cloak. My eyes traveled the length of the stranger’s body to meet a sharp jawline shadowed by the hood of a cloak, glittering onyx eyes the only thing visible in the darkness as he stared down at me.
“Watch your back,” was all he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine.
Warning bells rang in my head, but I didn’t care. My uncle was?—
I turned to Ragnar’s still form. “Can you help me?” I asked the stranger, looking back with a plea on my lips.
He was gone.
My hand covered my mouth as I gently lifted my uncle’s eyelids, already knowing what I would find.
Eyes as red as blood
My uncle was cursed.
6
Leo
The tournament had yet to start, and too many bodies were already piling up. Too many emboldened Veridians taking it upon themselves to solve the problems of this empire.
I should know. I was one of them.
I had no qualms with maiming or even killing rash Shifters and competitive highwaymen when they threatened innocent travelers. I just preferred to not have an audience while doing so.
As I hastily stepped into the stirrup and threw my leg over my black stallion, Nightshade, I reminded myself that the woman hadn’t seen my face. Even if she had, she was a foreigner—an Alchemist, surely, by her display of power. But she wasn’t from here; she wouldn’t know who I was.WhatI was.
That man she was with…he had fallen prey to the Somnivae curse, surely. I would know the signs in my sleep. Guilt burrowed its way beneath my skin, making a home in the crevices of my mind, as it always did.
I grabbed the reins and squeezed Nightshade’s sides. He took off through the night, the breeze knocking the hood of my cloak to my shoulders as we barreled down the familiar, darkened path. With so many hours left until sunrise, I couldn’t stopyet. It was the eve before the tournament. There was plenty of bloodshed to be found in these woods.
Attacks always ran rampant this close to the Decemvirate. I remembered them from the last time, when I was seventeen. Thieves and robbers stranding carriages in the middle of roads, looting travelers from the surrounding provinces. Angry capital natives who despised outsiders—”provincers,” as some called them—and used their intrusion as an excuse to send a message. People hoping to impede opposing challengers to give their province an edge in the competition. The motives for violence were endless.
Needless to say, tension was high, and morals were thrown out the window when magic came into play.
Clucking my tongue, I urged Nightshade faster. I’d already been seen once tonight, and I didn’t need to get caught by the roaming Royal Guards this close to the palace.
The sound of hooves beating against rock reached my ears. I quickly turned Nightshade to the right and into the shadows of a copse of trees, holding my breath and clenching my hand around the hidden pocket of herbs lining my cloak.
The rider came into view, and the sight of the familiar sleek, brown mare and gray mane loosened the weight on my chest.
“Leo, it’s me,” Chaz hissed. “Get out here. I’ve got news from Rissa.”
I tapped Nightshade with my heel and we sauntered out into the dark clearing. Chaz’s gaze met mine as I pulled my hood back over my head. He scratched at the black beard on his chin, the wrinkles on his umber forehead deepening.
