Ronan caught her hand, lowered it.“We’ve distrusted and belittled her for her whole life.”
“And letting her get herself killed will fix that?”
“We have to let her go,” Ronan repeated solemnly.“Or she will never forgive us.”
Penina whirled to face him, aghast.“I would rather her hate me forever,” she seethed, “and live.”
“Of course I’ll live,” Ione shot back, her heart fluttering with the startling delirium of her father defending her for once.“MenonandSowelan will be there, and both happen to like me.”
Another mirthless laugh, although weaker now, incredulous.“This is no time to be makingjokes, Ione – ”
“I’m not joking.”Even without Menon, it was easy to remember the way she used to carry herself, the regal lines of her body.“Let me be free as your daughter, or let me be expelled as a traitor.Either way, I’m going to stand beside Lina.”She issued them both a queenly smile, her pulse roaring in her ears.“Not because she’s Sowelan,” she whispered, “but because I love her.”
Ione could feel them the moment she stepped outside, the roil of energy, the sea-salt burn of magic in the grey sky hanging overhead.Further off, beyond Kai’s distant signature, the sulphuric heat of pyromancy forged ever closer.
With everyone cowering within the shrine, the stables were left devoid of the boys who tended to the horses – but the horses, too, had gone.Cursing, Ione kicked the wooden gate shut and spun on her heels.Of course Saros had taken all the godsdamned horses with them.
It would be on foot, then.Fine.Spurred by her own anger, Ione raced down the beaten path, scanning the watercolour blur around her, smudges of grey upon grey.No Lina, Kai, anyone.
She had to breathe, stay calm.That she couldn’t sense Lina’s lingering magic didn’t mean anything.She couldn’t sense her in Soliz, either.
She was fine.She was safe.Kai hadn’t found her, lost control, killed her.Ione took in the sounds of the stream gurgling beside the path, forced her muscles to relax.Assured herself, felt certain, that she would find Lina.Stand beside her.Face Kai, Saros, the Moths, the wrath of the gods together.
The only way out was through.
The path wound to the right, around a high outcrop, and Ione stopped cold.
A sea of orange, wide and sprawling enough that she could see it even from here.Ione fumbled for her monocular, lifting it with shaky hands to her eye.Not fire, not yet.An encroaching tide of pyromancers in saffron uniforms, gleaming like the sun itself as they advanced, headed by a single horsedrawn carriage in blinding gold.
Still on their way to them, before a great swathe of grassland separating the two sides – and so close to her, reachable – were five horsedrawn carriages, black like hearses in contrast to Rigel’s royal procession.
Five carriages, against an army.Saros was confident.
Ione squinted at the craggy path between her and Saros’s carriages, all grit and rocks and sharp outcrops punctuated by shrubs, eventually evening out to the slope of dark green grassland beyond.No Lina, but of course, she would’ve worn the grey-brown cloak they’d stolen from Soliz, rendering her practically invisible against the barren mountainside.She was biding her time, Ione decided, filing the monocular away: she was hiding somewhere near, playing it safe.
All Ione could do was keep moving.
The stream running along the path glistened in the soft light, giving her an idea.Ione hiked her cloak and dress up to her knees and stepped into the water, her breath catching at the shocking cold seeping into her boots.Her eyes on the dots of black far ahead, Ione widened her stance and shifted her weight back, waterspouts snaking around her as she raised one arm.
The current quickened, the water surging and carrying her down the mountain at breakneck speed.Ione held her breath, her eyes brimming with tears at the autumn wind on her face.Cairns and waypoints zoomed by in a blur, faster than she could identify them.
Soon she could make out the fuzzy shapes of the carriages, the shining white horses.She was close, but the stream was changing direction, lilting away from the path.Ione twisted, throwing one arm up, concentrating on the carriages until her head pounded.
The stream swelled, bursting, launching her into the air.So fast, too fast – her limbs flailed, the water slapping uselessly to the ground as her control slipped.She forgot to breathe as she saw the carriages racing towards her.And then beneath her.
Her stomach rose into her throat as she free-fell.The sky and ground blurred into one, her body tumbling, tumbling.And wouldn’t that be funny?To crash in a bloody splat, right before Saros’s carriage?He’d love that, a grisly cherry atop everything else he had done to her.
Absolutely not.
Ione gritted her teeth and kicked hard, summoning a thick trunk of water to spiral upwards, to fan out, a hand extending to the heavens.She plunged into it, icy bubbles flooding past her; she curled, her momentum slowing, and bade the water to carry her safely down to earth.
Her body hit something solid, rocky.The torrent collapsed and she heard horses screaming and rearing back, drivers shushing them and cursing her.Ione heaved herself up onto her hands and knees, sopping wet, coughing.She forced herself up, drawing the water out of her clothes and hair, willing herself to stand tall.
A door creaked open.“Ah, Ione.”A head of grey hair popped out of the middle carriage, Saros, stepping down onto the path and patting one of the horses as he came to stand before her.He opened his arms, pristine robes fluttering in the gentle breeze.“Welcome.I wondered when you’d arrive; it seemed unlike you to keep your nose where it belonged.”
Ione could barely hear him over the nauseating dizziness.She blinked hard, searching.No Lina.She craned her neck then, glancing behind her at the coming army.Still a far way off, but creeping closer with every minute.
“Oh, yes.”Saros stood on tiptoe, peering out at the invading dawn of orange robes and red banners.“I suppose we’re near enough to our meeting place.”
