Caelum stared at her. A hint of astonishment danced in Lord Zuma’s eyes.
Then, with a rumble like thunder rolling through stone, he knelt. One by one, the Minotaurs throughout the camp followed.
Something deep in her blood answered, warm and bright as sunrise through fog.
He bowed his head. “Then by my blade, my herd rides with you, Princess. We will see you safely to the Midlands.”
Alora’s throat tightened. “You would risk your lives for me? Why?”
“Lady Salvia saved my kin once, long ago, when Argyle’s kings sought to drive my kind into the wilderness. She healed our wounded, bade the earth to give sanctuary to our calves on these hills. I swore upon my horns that her kindness would be repaid.”
“If Prince Eldrik learns of this, he will come for you and your kin,” Caelum said.
“Our lives are already forfeit if Calveron’s rule continues,” Lord Zuma rumbled. “But Salvia’s daughter lives and the light of the divine endures. Give us your banner, Princess, and we will carry it until the mountain itself falls.”
The Minotaurs beat their chests in agreement.
For a moment, Alora sat with emotion in her throat. Her mother’s name still held weight even in death. Perhaps mercy left deeper roots than cruelty ever could.
But what he said lingered.The light of the divine endures.
Her heartbeat quickened. Whatever it meant, she would soon find out.
Lord Zuma gave a command and the Minotaurs quickly assembled again. One returned Caelum his shield and sword. And Alora summoned the clover horses once more, earning awe from all watching. A horn was blown and the herd charged ahead, the sound rolling like distant drums of war.
“Well,” Caelum muttered as he mounted the moss saddle. “You have inherited your mother’s gift for gathering allies.”
Alora glanced up at the sky, the faintest smile touching her lips.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “And perhaps more.”
CHAPTER 37
Alora
The growing shadows in the trees seemed to whisper as they galloped across the grasslands. Alora was tired, thirsty, and breathless. She was desperate to reach safety.
But as luck would have it, the Minotaurs knew a shortcut to the Midlands.
By the time they reached the heart of the forest, the evening sun was low in the sky. She knew these woods and the scent of the trickle of the stream that passed through the borough.
Caelum and the Minotaurs remained silent, following her lead through the woodland. The trees thickened as they approached, until the sky all but vanished behind their gnarled limbs. Something ancient moved through her bones, like her heartbeat no longer belonged to her, but to the forest itself.
“We’re close,” Caelum whispered.
Alora didn’t need the warning. Shefeltit. The air ahead shimmered like heat over stone, though the breeze was cool andstill. The light dimmed, not with shadow, but with some unseen veil, as though twilight lingered here.
Then she saw it.
The wardline. A wall of trees that barred all outsiders from the Midlands.
Birdsong faded. No insects buzzed. Leaving heavy silence.
And then came an urgency to flee, paranoia and disorientation rising like smog. The warding spell was made to divert travelers who had found their way here. The magic was powerful, but Alora was shockingly … unaffected.
No mortal would have gotten this close to the border.
The others had fallen still, staring into the forest with wide eyes, seeing whatever illusion they were made to see. Alora took Caelum’s reins, holding him and his clover horse in place.
