He shoved Zane’s head, releasing his hair. Uther walked casually away from the wagon, cape snapping behind him in the wind, and towards the library. He no doubt was going to steal other priceless artifacts. Zane couldn’t stop the shaking that had overcome him, and he hoped his father hadn’t noticed. If he showed weakness now, things would be worse for him. Without giving himself time to think about it, he threw his shoulder against the side of the wagon, pushing the joint back into place. He gasped at the momentary pain, which soon died down into an ache.
His mood soon changed, and Zane barely contained his glee when the library doors wouldn’t open for Uther. A battering ram and multiple men were used and still the doors stayed locked. Zane didn’t know what type of magic was in use, if it was from the goddess or a byproduct of the humans who had lived there, but he thanked Otho for the minor victory. For as long as he could, he reveled in his father’s escalating anger.
Eventually, when it was apparent the library would not grant them entry, tents were erected for Uther and the men. As night fell, Zane realized he’d be left in thewagon and exposed to the elements. Lying on his side, he curled up as tightly as possible and used his teeth to pull his cloak closer to him. Still, the shivers racked his body through the night. Sleep only found him when exhaustion took its toll just before sunrise.
His world was pain. Pain, darkness, and more pain.
Uther had never put this much effort into beating him before. This was Azazel-level torture, and Zane knew it was because he was no longer at court. Everyone around was fiercely loyal to Uther only, and they jeered and joined in on his rough treatment.
He refused to tell them anything. No matter how chafed his wrists became from his bonds, or how numb his fingers were. No matter the punches, or kicks, or cuts into his skin.
But he hadn’t anticipated the fire.
Or the drownings.
Or trussing him up in the snowstorm naked.
Zane estimated he had lasted for three days before he told them everything. He hoped it was enough of a head start for his friends.
Before the drugs they gave him took effect, he prayed, tears streaming down his face unchecked. But not to the gods who had never deigned to listen to him before.
Please, Talon, please forgive me.
Chapter 43
Emmeric
After pulling Talon away from charging back into the fray by himself, Emmeric had to punch his best friend in the face. He hated the need, but Tal wasn’t seeing reason and the only way to keep him safe was to knock him out and haul him away. Emmeric and Iyana were still recovering from the healing process and the amount of magic she had expelled. They’d never used that much before. Altair said he was running low on his stores as well, having used most of his on the fire sword he’d wielded. Talon himself was flagging—he was only human after all.
Kaz was on board with restarting the fight, but she was the only one with any amount of energy left. However, she relented when Emmeric made it clear he would also knock her unconscious if he had to, and she rode away with the rest of them. Emmeric rode Ryunn with Talon slung across the saddle in front of him, while Kaz took Talon’s chestnut. Leaving the prince behind made him feel terrible, but there was no way of rescuing him without damning themselves.
They rode hard for an entire day, barely stopping to eat or for bathroom breaks. Luckily for them, the snowstorm raged, covering any tracks they may have left. The knowledge Emmeric had learned in the library was burning in his throat. He couldn’t help peeking over at Iyana and Altair riding together. She needed to learn about what he’d found, but he wanted to get her alone to discuss it. That first day it was impossible to talk to anyone, though, with the winds racing along with them. The book in his saddlebag felt like it weighed more the farther they traveled and the longer he said nothing. When they did finally stop, horses foaming at the mouth, the mood was somber.
Talon had reawakened a couple hours into the ride and tried to revolt. Tried to convince them all to turn around or to let him go by himself. They all talked him down, which didn’t go over well.
“When Iyana wanted to turn around, we did without question,” he yelled. “No offense, Em, you know I love you and I would, of course, choose to save you every time, but this is some hypocritical shit.”
“Talon,” Emmeric said, gently. “I get it, believe me. But we have to play this smart. If we had gone back right then, we’d all be dead. Ipromisewe will get Zane back, okay? But we need to regroup and plan.”
“Fine, whatever.” Tal was quiet for the rest of the day, riding with Kaz because he was furious with Emmeric, his vision unfocused on the horizon. Emmeric had only seen him this way once before, when they were thirteen and they’d had a large falling out. What they had been fighting about was long forgotten, but he remembered Talon wouldn’t talk to him for almost four days. It was the worst four days of Emmeric’s life, and Tal only came around when he brought over a large platter of lemon bars they’d then shared in his yard—laughing and wrestling. Promising to never fight again.
Life happens, though, and people or responsibilities can easily come between childhood friendships. Sometimes, through nobody’s fault, those friends drift apart. Talking less and less until they are only a fond memory. Emmeric vowed that would never be him and Talon. They would always be together no matter the hurdles life threw in their way.
They finally stopped to rest for a few hours and, while Altair was busy starting a fire, Emmeric saw his chance. He sat down next to Iyana on the tarpaulin they’d laid out over the snow. She was sitting with her knees to her chest and her cloak wrapped tightly around her to keep it from catching in the wind. Her gaze focused unerringly on Talon, brow furrowed, who was moping across camp while Kaz attempted to cheer him up, and she refused to look at Emmeric.
“Iyana,” he murmured. He desperately wanted to call her Mouse but thought the nickname would spook her. “Can I speak with you privately?” He hated that her eyes flicked to Altair as if gauging how he would react to any decision she made. Iyana was fully capable of making her own choices.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,Emmeric,” she said.
“Please, M—Iyana,” he said, catching himself. “It’s important.”
She laid her head on her knees and finally considered him. “If it’s that important, maybe the rest of the group needs to hear.”
Emmeric couldn’t help it; he glanced at Altair. Iyana noticed the direction of his gaze and frowned. “You still don’t trust him, do you?”
“Listen, what I found, I don’t think he should know about it—”
“No, Emmeric, you listen,” she said, shooting to her feet and talking down to him. “I’ve had it with this discussion! We’re going in circles now and I’m done.”
