I tighten my hands around the reins and try not to think about getting caught as we ride through the night, nearer to the wall. It’s at least four stories high, hiding the city that lies beyond. Even from this distance, I can see the wards shielding the gates and the many braziers and torchlights glowing atop the dark stone ramparts. I imagine the sentries from the Northland Watch patrolling the battlements.
Tears prick my eyes, stinging in the wind. My parents shared tales of their time serving in the Watch, but I never pictured a city so vast and filled with enough life that it lights up such a large stretch of land.
Alexus takes a sharp right turn, leading us parallel to the city wall and Palgard Gate. According to Rhonin, this is the gate through which the prince and his army passed under the cover of darkness—without difficulty. I’ve yet to break through the barrier that shields the prince, but there’s no doubt that he has people inside this city who will be watching for our arrival. Including General Vexx, who I have seen.
To our benefit, the night is as dark as the abyss that lives in my mind. Earlier, we traveled with Alexus’s starlights, but now we lean on the gift of our horses’ night vision. Alexus rides confidently, though, and soon we’re safely out of sight of Palgard Gate.
We ride until the distant crash of the sea against the rocky coast meets my ears, and a comfortable, briny wind tangles my hair. There are cliffs near, so Alexus deploys his starlights again, scattered about the night like fireflies.
As we near the end of the wall on the western side, we slow our horses to a trot. Here, the wall has tapered to a lower height. Two stories, perhaps. Only two guards stand between torches on the battlements, but Starworth Gate is otherwise secured by wards. They don’t appear as strong as the wards that surround the prince, but their tangled web glimmers a threat in the darkness, nonetheless.
“Let me handle this,” Alexus says over his shoulder. “But glamours up.”
Everyone bristles, even me, and a gentle wash of power fills the air as those of us who need to erect shields over our witch’s marks quickly construct our glamours. Nephele glamours our weapons.
“Be convincing, be clever, or have a windfall of luck,” I hear Rhonin say, repeating Alexus’s words from our meeting in the library at Winterhold.
“I think we’re trying for all three tonight,” Hel replies.
My heart begins a steady, hard thumping as I move my hand to rest on the dagger sheathed at my thigh.
“Easy, Raina,” Finn says, bringing his horse adjacent to mine. “I’m here.”
As though I need his protection.
I try to ignore him, but it’s becoming ever more difficult. Time for anything except riding, checking the waters, and learning to dismantle runes has been limited on this journey. But Finn has seen me practice the sword with Helena and Rhonin a few times. Thanks to a year of training with Hel, I can wield a blade as good—if not better—than her brother, even when I’m hungry and exhausted. Finn knows I’m not a defenseless, helpless creature. And yet he still treats me as one.
My irritation is distracted by a gravelly, woodsmoked voice that drifts from the ramparts. “Who goes there?”
One of the men takes up a torch and holds it over the wall’s edge.
“Harmon?” Alexus calls. “Is that you?”
“Tis me. Who’s you?”
Familiarity. This is good. Very good.
Alexus laughs and summons his starlights closer to reveal his face, though he doesn’t say a word.
The man leans forward. There’s a pause, and then, “Oh, my lord! My lord! Just a moment!” He disappears, but I can still hear him. “Dru! Open the gate! It’s Master Thibault!”
Our group exhales a collective sigh. I unclench my fingers from my weapon and take a deep breath. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever know what it is to live peacefully, without panic rearing its head.
“Thank the gods that was easy,” Nephele says from beside me, arching the long line of her spine into a stretch. “I can’t get off this horse fast enough.”
“You’ve certainly had your practice at riding these last weeks,” Joran says from behind her, where he stays. “You just need a little instruction on how to better sit in the saddle.” His voice deepens. “I’d be glad to teach you.”
Groans resonate from the riders behind me. Hel and Rhonin mainly.
My sister tosses a disgusted glare over her shoulder. “Why do I hear sexual innuendo in those stupid words?”
Joran enjoys poking my sister like the bear she is, so I’m not surprised when one side of his mouth pulls up and he says, “Why indeed?”
Fuming, she opens her mouth to land a retort, but thankfully, their bickering is cut short. The portcullis rises with a screeching groan, and the wooden gate beyond is thrown open. Harmon bursts from the darkness carrying his torch. Smiling, Alexus holds out a hand, and Harmon grabs it.
“My lord, it’s been ages!” The older man lifts the torch and waves it around to better see the rest of us. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“I know, and for that I apologize. Though I hope we’re welcome,” Alexus replies.
