The horns fadedas Andrian traveled deeper into the forest.
Their shrill bleating melted from a panicked scream to a faint whisper to eventual silence. Only the sounds of the forest surrounded Andrian now. With each twig that snapped, he glanced over his shoulder, as if he could feel something lurking on his trail.
No matter how many times he looked, nothing ever emerged from behind him.
The eagle would occasionally trill impatiently at him from above, as if telling him to stop worrying and keep moving, but that did little to calm him. What would a bird know, anyway?
Something rustled ahead in the underbrush.
Andrian froze, shadows swirling and dancing down his arms. He ignored the eagle’s whistle as he waited. Listening.
For a moment, it was quiet. Then there it was—a soft nicker, followed by a snort.
Panic flooded him in a desperate wave.
A horse.
Horses wouldn’t just be in the woods; he’d surely been followed. A guard or scout from Khento, realizing the only way he could’ve gone was north, into the trees.
He’d risked his life—and his brother’s—for nothing.
A branch above shuddered as the eagle landed. Andrian wanted to wave at her to take off, to fly away while she still could. To not draw the attention of the men behind him. But she just watched him with something akin to impetuousness, clacking her beak. Andrian glared at her.
The horse finally emerged onto the trail, coat shining in the moonlight, tossing his head and prancing.
Everything dropped away from Andrian. Not just because the horse was riderless, not wearing even a single piece of tack.
But because he recognized that gleaming golden coat, the long black mane, the white star on his forehead.
Andrian pulled his shadows beneath his skin and stepped into the moonlight, a hand cautiously extended. The horse pricked his ears, nostrils flaring as Andrian approached.
He took a tentative step forward. Then another. Above, the eagle rustled her feathers impatiently.
“Kodie?” Andrian said in a broken whisper, and it was like some spell had snapped.
The gelding—Mariah’sgelding, the one she’d raised from birth—tossed his head, nickering again softly, before walking into Andrian’s waiting palm.
Andrian loosed a great sigh of relief, not realizing until that moment that his hands were shaking. That his heart was ready to beat out of his chest, every tense line of his body aching.
He stroked the horse’s forelock, noticing its tangled state. “What are you doing out here?” The horse nuzzled into him, inhaling his scent.
That’s when it struck him.
They’d left their horses in these very woods that day they’d approached Khento. They’d meant to find them again after Mariah’s family was rescued, but things hadn’t gone according to plan.
It was guilt this time that washed over Andrian. He hadn’t had anything near the bond Mariah’d had with Kodie, but he did have an affection for his warhorse. And Mariah…she’d been in Khento, had willingly fled, not knowing whether her beloved horse would be safe.
Yet here he was. A little unkempt, but healthy. Weeks in the forest and he hadn’t lost any weight or injured himself in any noticeable way.
It was almost unbelievable. But Andrian had long ago started believing in impossible things.
He trailed his hands over Kodie’s neck, then his back, then down his legs, feeling for any hot points or cuts or signs of injury. The gelding stood patiently as Andrian took stock of him, finally coming back to stand by his head.
“You’re just as tenacious as your mistress, aren’t you?”
The horse tossed his head. It was almost enough to pull a small smile to Andrian’s lips.
The eagle whistled at them again, this time more urgently.
