He watched her beautiful face as she examined the feather. Did his Saga think this a sign from the gods? A reminder that her cage was now open, and she could fly free? Kassandr could be certain of nothing except that Saga snatched his arm, and she now ledhimtoward the temple.
“Tell me of the clans beyond the river,” she said, fingertips digging into his skin. “What happened?”
Kassandr’s brows lifted—now he was the one to be surprised. “Many things happened,” he answered carefully. “Some small, some large. Long have there been arguments, but then…” He swallowed back his pain. “Then the oracle made a mess of things.”
Saga’s attention swung toward him, her blue eyes wide. “The oracle. The same one your father has gone to consult?”
He nodded. “It washerprophecy that we must unite with clans beyond river to keep our isle safe. And after a meeting, it was decided—my brother Radomir would wed a horsemaiden, uniting the two sides of the river. We sent to them great amounts of ore, only accessible from deposits in the east. And they sent to us the greatest winged horse to be born in a century.
“Oaths were sworn between my father and the clansmother, and it felt much like a fresh start. We were promised fertile lands in the west for some of our people to settle and farm. And clans beyond river were promised access to metal ore deposits in the east.
“Then oracle came to my father, unbidden. She told to him she’d seen another vision. That the white stallion must be kept safe no matter what. She saw that one day a great warrior would climb atop its back and usher in a new era of prosperity.”
Kass shook his head with remembered sorrow. “Radomir—the fool—was certainhewas great warrior she spoke of. He climbed onto horse and was thrown, and murderous stallion crushed his skull. Some believe it was planned by the clans. That they wished to rid us of our heir. Rebels slipped across river in dead of night and burned down one of clans’ camps. After that, I fear, there was no peace to be found.”
He sighed. “Oracle can see only small parts of the future, which means the coming to it is unclear. My father, though, he holds on to her word. Even after his heir’s death, he believes that one day, the horse they call Havoc will accept a warrior. Is only reason foul horse has not been slaughtered.”
“Have you tried?”
Kass scowled, his beast releasing a low, warning snarl against his rib cage. “Once I tried to mount insolent creature. Would not let me near. Not with my—” He thumped his chest. “—Not with beast.” Kassandr blinked as he realized they’d come to a stop before the temple. Glancing at Saga, he found her staring at the four enormous idols of the seasonal gods. Surrounded by tall, frozen grasses glinting in the sunlight, and clad in Zagadkian brocade, Saga looked like she belonged in this place. Like she’d been destined to come here all along. Kassandr forgot how to breathe. For a moment, he simply stared.
“Osennyaya Starukha,[*2]” Saga said, pointing to the Autumn Crone.
“Khram.[*3]” She pointed at the temple building.
“Sbiten.” She pointed at the offerings plate, where cups ofsbitenhad been left in offering to Old Man Winter.
“Khrabraya,[*4]” he murmured, watching her. “Umnaya.[*5]Prekrasnaya serdtsem i razumom.[*6]”
Saga squinted at him. “I do not know these words.”
A raven cawed overhead, and Saga flinched. Kassandr’s enhanced hearing noted the acceleration of her heartbeat, and he steered them away from the temple. “Come, Winterwing, it is much for one day. Let us return to fortress, and I will tell to you the meaning of these words.”
Skip Notes
*1Beautiful.
*2Autumn Crone.
*3Temple.
*4Brave.
*5Clever.
*6Beautiful in heart and mind.
Chapter 11
The Black Road (east of Kopa)
Gunnar and Eyvind were getting on Hekla’s last nerve.
Gaze trained on the darkening road before her, she tried to ignore the fact that Eyvind’s white mare nudged ever closer to her left, while Gunnar refused to give any ground on her right. At some point, the pair had learned each other’s intentions toward Hekla, and their antics had grown more childish with each passing day.
Last night, Gunnar had positioned his bedroll directly beside Hekla’s—a move that would only have been more obvious if he were to whip his breeches down and start pissing on the trees all around them. But the bedroll had become mysteriously dampened during the evening meal, forcing Gunnar to string it up by the fire to dry. When he’d returned to set it back out, there lay Eyvind on his own bedroll, arms tucked behind his head.
Hekla knew that in avoiding conversation with either, she was being a coward.
