Throughout the run, the beauty of their shared song is evident. I cannot hear it, of course—that song is a private secret, shared between licorneir and rider. But I can observe the effects so vividly, it’s like an echo in my soul. Those two share a profound bond, born of loss and mutual understanding, as each spirit slots into the empty places of the other. Most of us spend years developing such closeness with our licorneir. Some never achieve such harmony.
Tassa sits astride her bay mount beside me and Elydark, her head not quite to my shoulder level. Her face is stern, but I think she takes some satisfaction in Ilsevel’s successful run through the dummy forest.
“She looks confident out there,” I say. “Strong.”
Tassa sneers. “She forgets her targets will be moving, not stationary posts.”
“We all start somewhere.”
“Yes.” She casts me a sideways glare. “Only most of us start on fat little ponies at age seven.”
“At least she won’t be entirely unprepared.”
“She’ll be dragged from the saddle and ripped to pieces if you let her anywhere near the fray.”
A cold knot tightens in my gut. I can’t argue with her; what she says is true enough. “The time is passing untilsilmael,” I say quietly. “Ten more nights only. If the summons doesn’t come until then—”
“It will come,” Tassa says.
She says it with a firmness bordering on frenzy. We have pinned our hopes on this looming campaign for so long, ever since the alliance with Noxaur was initially proposed. My riders and I risked everything to get that talisman off Mage Artoris, losing far too many lives on the mere chance of finally being able to bring down theobscurisspell. It simply must happen. Now. We cannot wait any longer.
Memories of Agandaur field fill my mind. All those good riders and licorneir lost in our desperate attempt to penetrate theobscurisand reclaim our kingdom. I see again Shanaera’s dead body in my arms, black streaks of virulium running down her face, blood pouring from the gut wound I myself dealt her. So much death. So much pain, so much sacrifice, over so many years.
I grind my teeth. I long to see theobscurisfall, to look again upon the city of Evisar. I want to see the citadel surrounded by the forces of Noxaur and those mortal mages trembling with dread. Then will I punish them tenfold for the evil they have wrought upon my world.
“Taar,” Tassa says suddenly, “do you trust this Prince Ruvaen?”
“No,” I answer without hesitation, even as I watch Ilsevel circleDiira around for another run. “But he is fae; he is bound by his word. So long as I am quick witted enough not to let myself be caught in some sly trickery, I can count on him to fulfill the exact letter of any sworn oath.”
“And what will happen if he and the Noxaurians refuse to leave Evisar after the siege?”
A concern which has passed through my mind on more than one occasion. “Ruvaen assures me he has no interest in Cruor. A desolate, magic-deprived wasteland, so he calls it, of no use to him or any fae. He wants only some book—a grimoire of ancient days. He believes it to be held within the citadel.”
“A book?” Tassa frowns. “But he is fae. He can neither read nor write, nor can any of his kind. What use has he for some dusty old mortal grimoire?”
A question to which I have never received a satisfactory answer. “I don’t pretend to understand him,” I admit. “But whatever his true motivations, he is the best bet we have.”
She acknowledges this with a silent nod. After some moments she adds, “I suppose we cannot afford to turn away allies. Not if the reports of Larongar treating with the Shadow King are true.”
I hold my tongue. I remember vividly that dreadful day when news first arrived of the Shadow King’s visit to Larongar’s court. Riders from the Arasyrn Tribe were deployed to interfere, to capture Larongar’s daughter and prevent a marriage before it could be arranged. But the Shadow King himself had arrived, andwe lost too many good riders that night.
In the end, however, circumstances worked in our favor. Would it comfort Tassa to know that the Shadow King’s bride even now lay in my keeping? That the alliance must have fallen through, because I stole and married Larongar’s daughter, however inadvertently? The gods themselves were on our side when they arranged our meeting in the temple. The Shadow King will have returned to his dark realm by now, and the Miphates will have only their own magic with which to defend themselves in the coming siege. We can break them this time. We will.
“What are you grinning about?” Tassa asks sharply.
I cast her a quick glance, then nod, indicating the practice field. “Did you see that rollback? A smooth lead change indeed.”
“You’re keeping secrets.”
“I am yourluinar,am I not? I’m entitled to a few secrets.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but Ilsevel saves me from further haranguing. She and Diira canter to our watching position, both glistening with perspiration. But Ilsevel’s smile is brilliant enough to stop my heart, and I forget all else in the sudden joy of basking in it. Thevelrabetween us warms, and new strength flows into me the nearer she draws.
“Well, warlord?” she asks, panting. “What do you think? Will your sister make a warrior out of me yet?”
“You were sloppy on the fourth turn,” Tassa snaps. “If it weren’t for Diira, you’d have tumbled from the saddle altogether.”
Ilsevel ignores her pointedly, her attention still fixed on me. I don’t want to be overly effusive in praise. It would not help her; it would only infuriate my sister. But I allow a surge of feeling to flow through thevelraconnection when I say, “You’ve made tremendous strides,zylnala.”
