Thalia’s teeth ground together, and she looked away, unable to face the hard truth in Reina’s eyes. “I will.”
Only so she could stab a stake through his traitorous heart.
Reina sighed, muttering to the gods to save her. “What he did was shit.” Thalia stiffened.Shitwas the understatement of the millennium. What he’d done was unforgivable—inhuman. But she supposed he wasn’t human anymore. Thalia shoved down the bile rising in her throat as Reina continued, “But your mother needs you back. There’s been a new development. Something to do with the ore.”
“What about it?” Thalia’s interest piqued. She’d passed the fields leached of color on her way into this town. The soil that refused to be tilled and the grain that shriveled like husks, not to mention the sickness that followed in its wake. When the ore was spread across the fields, it allowed the land to become fertile—thriving. When burned, it fueled homes and mills. They needed that ore to survive, especially with the ongoing war between the humans and Vampyrs. In recent years, the human reserves had rapidly dwindled.
Reina shook her head. “I don’t know. But you’re needed at the castle, immediately. Now, we can either go back to the palace the easy way, or …” She trailed off with a smirk.
Thalia didn’t take her threat seriously. Not that Reina wouldn’t tie her to a horse and carry her all the way to Corithian, Agripa’s capital city, if she refused. And Thalia knew she had no hope of taking her in a fight if it came to that. Reina was a good head taller than her, not to mention she knew every single one of her moves; she had taught them to Thalia herself.
Thalia forced her hands to unclench, to let go of the urgency racing through her veins. The sooner she got back to the castle, the sooner she could leave and ensure that no more townsfolk suffered because of her mistake. She’d finish her mission—for good. “Fine.”
She stalked away from the field, Reina at her heels. Their horses waited on an empty dirt road, their hides gleaming in the moonlight, the summer air thick and muggy.
“We’re already late,” Reina said, swinging into her saddle. “I received the letter this morning; you were expected a day ago. We need to move quickly, or your mother will not be pleased.”
She never was.
Thalia swung herself up onto her horse, and Reina dug her heels into her beast’s side, taking off to pass through the nearly empty town.
Thalia turned to follow but froze.
Even from a distance, the Scarecrows stood out like a raised scar among the graying field. They swayed slightly in the summer breeze. Once morning came, the corpses would cook in the sun, the heat turning the remaining bits of hanging flesh into strips of leather.
Someone should take them down.
Someoneneededto take them down.
But Thalia remained frozen, transfixed, as one particular corpse swayed harder than the others, almost as though it were curling a finger toward her in a promise.
Then a dark shadow stepped out from behind the Scarecrow.
Eyes the color of the mountain lakes stared back.
Thalia’s whole body locked up, her breath coming in deep pants.
He … he was—
“Thalia!”
Her horse shifted and Thalia jolted, glancing over her shoulder to find Reina waiting in the distance near some old trenches dug during the start of the war.
Thalia whipped back, heart pounding in her throat. But nothing was there. No glowing eyes. No dark presence. Even the Scarecrows were gone, toppled over by that fell wind.
Thalia shook her head, forcing down the dread rising in her stomach as she spurred her horse after Reina.
She tried to push aside the image of the Scarecrows. Tried to push past the smell of decaying flesh still clinging to her nostrils, and the eyes that had seared themselves into her brain—into her heart.
But as they rode hard through the night across Agripa’s dying land, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something watched her from the shadows.
Waiting to sink their teeth in.
“You’re late, Thalia.”
Thalia stiffened as she glanced up at her mother’s imposing figure sitting on her gilded throne.
Queen Helena Cesiaran of Agripa looked her daughter over, her features an immovable mask of marble. Her emerald eyes scanned Thalia from head to toe. Thalia was grateful she’d had time to bathe and change. Her mother was already displeased; tracking mud across the red-carpeted tile would have only served to irk her more.
