George seems unable to say anything more. He just stares at her with stars in his eyes, a look of complete contentment on his face.
A single tear runs down Anya’s cheek. “Oh, my George.” Then she turns to me. “You are my daughter’s mate. You know this.”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Then, you will do anything for her. Is that correct?”
“Of course,” I growl.
She stands, exuding all the grace and majesty of her title despite her prison garb. “Then you will take my husband and leave this place at once.”
“No, Anya!” George stands. “This cage will be destroyed any minute. We’ll escape together—”
“No, we will not,” she says harshly. Then she sighs, and her whole body softens. “I can’t leave here. If I do … Rosalina will take my place.”
CHAPTER 87
Ezryn
Sand pelts my face, whipped by the wind so hard it slices my skin. My eyes are blurry with grit, and my mouth tastes of dust. Each step forward is a fight, but I keep moving.
It came upon us suddenly as we were traversing our way back across the Ribs toward Hadria. First, it was the wind, tearing at our clothes and making it nearly impossible to open our eyes. Then a red haze thick as clouds wafted over the horizon. Now, I can barely see a foot ahead of me.
“Ezryn! We can’t keep going!” Delphia calls from behind me.
“Don’t stop,” I say back.
There’s no other option. One foot in front of the other. If we stop, we die. If we go back, we die. There is only deeper into the storm.
There’s a malice to this wind, something beyond the natural world. I wrap my cloak tighter around my face, but I can still feel it with each bite of sand. Like a malevolent voice stirs the wind to a riot.
“We have to take shelter,” Nori says. “It’s the only way to survive a sandstorm.”
“There is no shelter,” I growl. There’s nothing out here: just the dunes and the wind and the damned sand. Ihatesand. We can’t go back to the Huntresses. Even if they would take us, I’ve lost sense of north or south. We can only keep moving.
Keep moving toward what?a voice asks in my head.To Hadria, without the aid you promised? To Rosalina, with only your failures?
This is all my fault. Of course I’m not a worthy representative of the Queen. I had fooled myself into thinking I could escapethe Prince of Blood, but his legacy follows me everywhere. Now, I’ve shadowed Delphia with it.
If Dayton had chosen any other protector for his sister, would the Huntresses have given their support? I stagger forward a few steps. One of the girls calls my name but it’s distant. “Keep moving,” I rasp. Even though the only reason to do so is because I don’t know what will happen to us if we stop.
“Ezryn, look ahead,” Delphia snaps.
I squint, shielding my eyes from the stinging grains of sand. There’s a dark shape within the swirling dust. A person, staggering toward us.
“Help,” a man’s voice cries. “Help me, I’m lost.”
“Someone needs our help,” Delphia says, catching up to me. “Hey! We’re over here! Follow our voices!”
I stop, the wind threatening to bowl me over. “Shush.”
She doesn’t. “We’ll help you!”
The man stumbles closer. His movements are heavy and clunky, weighed down by armor.
Golden armor.
A member of the Queen’s Army.
