The chains shackling the cinerary to the bier’s surface no longer clattered but were pulled taut as the urn strained against its tethers in an effort to slide closer to Ildiko. The lid canted once more, and this time, a voice—dry and thin as dead leaves—wafted upward on a tendril of ethereal mist.
“Sweeeet.”
Ildiko’s skin nearly leaped off her bones at the hunger in that whisper. She scampered up the rope, scraping her palms raw as she clumsily made her way along its length, no longer worrying if the trousers would stay attached or the guard would hear her. An icy draft brushed the soles of her feet as if the thing in the urn tasted her with a vaporous tongue. She clenched her jaw to keep from screaming in terror, not daring to look down, frightened of what she might see staring back at her as she made her escape.
The joist the rope was attached to creaked as she climbed. After several pauses to catch her breath and give her muscles a rest, she reached the beam. Gasping and drenched in sweat, she draped herself partway across the wood before swinging one leg over the other side until she lay on her belly, straddling the oh so-narrow expanse. Her hands, legs, and feet stung fromthe abrading rope, but thank the gods, she was far above the cinerary and its vile contents.
Her heartbeat slowed from a gallop to a steady thump. No longer dizzy, she carefully scooted to where the beam met the slope of the roof, near the opening made by erstwhile thieves. The ragged edges of cut thatch framed a sky festooned in stars. She stretched out a hand, gripped a clump of straw, and slowly clawed her way out onto one of the yelms, whimpering as chaff and hazel spars caught on her tunic and dragged across her exposed legs. The pain of new scratches was worth the chance to escape from both her guard and whatever awful thing lurked in the columbaria with a deathless hunger.
She lay against the roof’s slope, breathing in the outside air and listening for any approaching footsteps. Her view was limited from this vantage point, but she didn’t think Ineni’s henchman had gone far. At least the thieves had breached the once-locked death from the opposite side to the door. If her guard were keeping watch, he’d expect her to try and escape through the entrance.
As much as she wanted to crawl off the roof and scamper away from the columbarium, reason kept her in place. The Kai’s vision, even under moonlight, was much sharper than hers. In every way, he was physically superior to her, especially at night. She’d have to use the sun to give her even the slightest chance of escaping him. That meant spending the remainder of an uncomfortable night lying across the bristling thatch. At least she was miserable enough and frightened enough that she was in no danger of falling asleep.
Once dawn gave way to full morning, she began her slow descent, muscles stiffer than shutter poles and her skin stinging from the numerous cuts and scratches she’d collected. Every crackle of dry straw made her cringe as she crawled down the roof, pausing at intervals to listen and find better purchase onthe thatch so she wouldn’t slip. The fall would be short but loud enough to bring the Kai running. Finally at the edge, she hung onto the lowest of the spars, her feet swinging just above the dusty ground. One of the spars started to give way, and she let go, sliding down the yelm’s length until she dropped with a soft thud.
Splinters of agony shot through her bare feet and into her shins. She pressed her palm to her mouth to muffle her cry and blinked away tears. Huddled against the columbarium’s wall, hardly daring to breathe for fear of alerting her guard, she prayed the gods remained merciful. Only the nearby nicker of a horse and the ceaseless croon of the wind filled the silence. So far, so good.
The sun plated the landscape in gold, casting the structures surrounding her into silhouettes that stretched like giant fingers over the ground. For a moment she had the eerie sense of being trapped within a cage where shadows acted as bars for the captive within. The sound of the horse’s nicker beckoned, and she crept toward it, wincing with each careful step. She spotted her guard and his mount at the same time.
The Kai sat cross-legged in the shadow of a columbarium, reclined in peaceful repose. Despite the rising heat, he wore his cloak with the hood pulled forward to shield his eyes from the blinding light. With any luck, he dozed, assured in the belief that a weak, human woman would never escape.
His horse was where she’d guessed earlier, grazing on tufts of grass that lined the precipice of the necropolis. These weren’t tall hills, but they were steep in places, and the rugged ground was made treacherous by loose, sharp stones. If she made a dash for the animal, she risked scaring it away or flinging herself over the edge thanks to a misstep. That, and she was shoeless and footsore, in no shape to sprint for anything.
She crept toward her means of escape, sidling alongside several columbaria, always watching her guard. He hadn’t yet noticed her, and she held her breath as she closed the gap between her and the peacefully grazing horse.
Thank the gods Brishen had taught her how to mount and ride bareback. Every failed attempt to swing onto a horse’s back, every jarring stumble and fall, every bruise, had culminated in this slim chance for freedom. The animal still wore its bridle, with the reins looped across its neck. All Ildiko had to do was sneak past the Kai, reach the horse without startling it, and vault onto its back without falling down the side of the hill. And keep her seat long enough to put distance between her and her warden. She tried not to think too hard about the near-impossible series of tasks ahead. One thing at a time, she reminded herself. She’d escaped the columbarium with its ghoulish occupant. She could do this too.
Hope inspired courage. It didn’t guarantee success. Ildiko was no more than arm’s reach from the horse when a frisson of warning crawled down her back. She turned just in time to see the Kai leaping toward her, a terrifying figure of black claws, sharp teeth, and glowing yellow eyes bright with rage. He was on her in an instant. She opened her mouth to scream, but the air gusted out of her lungs in a squeak instead as the Kai slammed sideways into her much harder than his weight or momentum warranted. She caught a glimpse of his face, shock rounding his eyes, before her feet left the ground, and she hurtled with him over the hilltop’s edge.
The sky tilted around her for a moment before earth rushed up to meet her with a bone-cracking thud. Agony exploded across her body as she hit rocks and twigs, the Kai’s heavy weight crushing her as they tumbled together down the rocky slope. She was suddenly free, flailing even harder as she rolled down thehillside, stopping only when she smashed into something hard and sharp.
She lay on her back, gasping for air as a red tide of pain washed over her. The sky had returned to its place above her, endless blue and free of clouds. She tried to lift her arm, then tried to scream at the fire licking her entire side from knee to shoulder. The only sound to pass her lips was another thin gasp as glass splinters pierced her lungs with every breath. Black stars pulsed in her vision, growing until all she could see was a sliver of blue slowly devoured by darkness. She attempted to speak, but that hurt too. In the end, she prayed. Not to gods for mercy, but to the one person whose face she most wanted to see in these last moments of fading consciousness, his name an invocation, an orison, an evensong.
Brishen.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The woman posing as Ildiko offered Brishen a smile when he squeezed her fingers. “I’ll be right back,” he said, suppressing the urge to yank his hand away and wipe it on his trousers. That or jerk her arm up behind her back, haul her to her feet, and demand she reveal who she was and what she’d done with the real Ildiko.
He rose, reluctant to turn his back but forced to do so if he didn’t want to raise suspicion. His position in front of the imposter blocked Anhuset from seeing her, and Dendarah’s attention was focused on Tarawin for the moment. Both women instantly turned their gazes on him when he stood, and sharpened when he signaled with one hand.
Danger. Hold.
His thoughts raced as he walked to where Anhuset casually pulled an arrow from her quiver, pretending to inspect its fletching. She kept the bow loosely hooked over her arm, ready to nock the arrow and draw the string in less time than it would take to inhale a breath.
She glanced past Brishen’s shoulder before returning her gaze to the fletching, her expression mild. To any who mightoverhear her softly spoken inquiry, she sounded bored. “Why does the hercegesé now have one yellow eye?”
“A question I’d like answered myself.” Brishen bent to rummage through their supplies for one of the full flasks of water. “I’m certain there’s at least one other abductor somewhere nearby hiding and watching. I’m going to try and flush them out. Warn Dendarah. I trust her to protect the queen. I want you to catch our quarry.” He straightened, keeping his posture relaxed though every muscle in his body demanded he grab the nearest horse, vault atop its back and race toward his wife’s rescue. Unfortunately, for the moment, he had no idea where she was.
“Said and done,” Anhuset reassured him.
The Ildiko look-alike hadn’t altered any further. Only the yellow eye gave her away. Brishen wondered if her eyesight had changed as well, with her vision improving on one side and worsening on the other as the forest brightened. He returned to her with the flask, noticing that she squinted more than before.
What powerful spell had this Kai somehow wrought to mimic his wife so closely? It went beyond surface appearance. The Kai were a physically heavy race. He would have noticed the difference in weight the instant he’d lifted who he thought was Ildiko in his arms. Yet, this stranger was as feather-light as his wife. The voice inflections and timbre were the same as well. Even the movements of her body and the way she held her shoulders when she spoke all accurately copied those of the real Ildiko.
There had been minute differences. Small things those who didn’t know her well might miss. And then there was gut instinct, a feeling of…wrongness that struck him when she first stumbled out of the woods and hadn’t ceased plaguing him right up until the spell started to fade. Even Anhuset must have sensed something was off. She’d been very guarded, even forher, with a woman she considered a friend. The queen regnant, more than anyone, had offered the greatest clues to this Kai’s duplicity. She hadn’t been fooled by the familiar face or voice. The child had squirmed to get away from the woman carrying her through the woods and completely ignored her afterward.
His thoughts raced as he drew closer to the imposter. The spell was powerful, if short-lived. He guessed it worked as a method to outwit an opponent. Cast it on someone dead or someone to be sacrificed so the person being mimicked had enough time to escape. It imitated every physical attribute, from hair color to voice and height to strength. If he was right, the Kai playing Ildiko was currently only at a fraction of her true vigor. A disadvantage for her, an advantage for him. The changing eye color hinted such a boon wouldn’t last long.
