“Excuse me?” I’m not even angry, just shaken. “Nobody has manipulated me, I’m perfectly capable of?—”
“Get back.” He slips an arm around my middle and yanks me to the side. “Fuck!”
Three centaurs have gathered around us, crammed inside the narrow gorge. They’re crowding us in. A wind is blowing, bringing the stench of death with it.
One of the centaurs, I realize, is a female, her bare breasts high and tanned, her muscular arms decorated with fine bands of gold. Her long dark hair is coiled up on top of her head, streaked with silver, and a golden diadem is set on her brow.
“Who are you?” she demands. “Why are you attacking us?”
“I’m the librarian of Areon,” Roane says, sounding winded. “And she’s my guest.”
The female centaur lifts a dark brow. “Guest. Really?”
Roane glares. “Got a problem with that? Introduce yourself, as it is proper.”
“As you wish. I am Bellera, and these are the untamed Pheres, my warriors.”
“And you let them abduct other women?” he grinds out.
“I don’tletthem. I lead them into battle.” Her smile isn’t pleasant. “Those nymphs will fetch good coin for my people, and what we do is none of your business. Go home.”
Roane’s brow creases. “The raven isn’t your enemy. Free him.”
“That’s why you’re here? For a bird?” Queen Bellera scoffs. “He got in our way. Just like you are doing now.”
“You haven’t won this fight yet,” Roane seethes.
“Haven’t we?” She clucks her tongue and lifts her hand, gesturing. “Bring the lioness!”
“Ardruna?” I whisper. “Where is she?”
A centaur nudges his way between the queen and the gorge wall, carrying Ardruna in his arms. He drops her to the ground.
I jerk at the thump the lioness’ body makes as it hits the rocks, but my eyes take a long moment to comprehend what I’m seeing.
“No! Ardruna!” I cry out. “No…”
She’s dead. Cut through the middle, entrails hanging out in the dirt, her tongue half-bitten, her eyes filmed over. My stomach twists. Bile rises in my throat, thick and sour.
And all the while, Roane stands there, stock-still, his face devoid of all expression.
“You killed three of my centaurs,” Queen Bellera says, a satisfied smirk on her face. “I think this is only fair.”
“Fair? You abducted Talton, you…” With a wail of anguish, I turn on the centaurs, pointing my knife at them. “You! I curse you.”
“No,” Roane makes a grab for me, “Aline, get back!”
I dodge him and advance on them. “Bellera and her Pheres. I’m being duped. As much as this pains me, I have to do it.”
Roane catches my arm. “Aline! What are you talking about?”
“I know that name, Queen Bellera. You were never a centaur, were you?” I jerk away from him and, my hands shaking, I pass the knife through the belt of my leather vest, not to lose it. “You led your riders against the Lemian citadel in the battle of Teresh, seeking to secure slaves for your kingdom.” I point my finger at her, and in my mind I’m really cursing them. Cursing them with their true nature. “You are not centaurs! You belong in the Book of the Nymph Ilara. You’re just human, like me. Human and weak.”
The queen lets out a long wail. Her centaurs stomp and jerk this way and that, faces twisting, their forms snapping and reshaping until…
Until they are simply people on horseback. Not monsters. Not powerful. Just people.
And here is where the tide turns.
