But he couldn’t.
He shot a glance to his right. Ciana was readying her mare, giving the beast gentle kisses and murmured words of affection. That forbidden thing cracked in his chest, softening some of his tired edges.
Ciana was so much lighter now. She still refused to talk about her outburst of wind magic that night in the camp, but since the banishment of her family, she’d looked free. Like a string had finally been snipped, setting loose a piece of her trauma that had been hovering over her for far too long.
“You need something, Seb?”
He blinked, meeting Ciana’s bright amber eyes. She was smiling at him, absently brushing her mare’s forelock, expression amused and sparkling.
Warmth flooded his face when he realized he’d been caught staring.
Sebastian cleared his throat. “I…no. Just wish we didn’t have to leave again so soon.”
Her smile faltered slightly. She nodded, a small dip of her head, before turning back to her mare.
Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was eternally grateful to Mariah for acting so quickly upon their return to Desva—for not hesitating to protect and believe Ciana. It solidified all the faith he’d placed in his queen since the day he met her—that she was the one who would make this world better than what it was.
He loved his queen and would defend her with his life. But hehatedthis plan.
Despite her stalwart support of Ciana, something about Mariah lately felt off. Sebastian knew she’d endured so much in so little time. Her capture, torment, escape. Uncovering the kingdom’s pollutedallume, becoming queen. Discovering that her family had been captured, the desperate race to save them, only to fail in the end.
The loss of Andrian—and her magic—on top of it all had him wondering how she was still walking. How she managed to get out of bed every day and keep going, keep pushing, keep reaching forward.
She was the strongest person he knew, but Sebastian wondered when she would reach her breaking point. And what might happen when she did.
His gelding tossed his head, snorting and pawing at the ground. A shadow passed through the sky. Sands swirled, and a deep indigo dragon landed in the courtyard, shaking out his wings. Two dark-haired figures—Mariah and Signe—slid down between the ridges of Callamus’s scales, landing softly in thesands. There was a hard set to Mariah’s brow, and Signe’s usual laughing mouth was pulled into a grim frown.
Unease prickled down the back of Sebastian’s neck. He gave his gelding one last pat before striding across the courtyard, Ciana following closely behind him.
“Is something wrong?” he asked as they approached, eyeing Mariah warily. She wore her usual leathers: half-shoulder plate buckled across her chest, dragon-winged dagger sheathed in its red holster on her thigh, short-swords crossed behind her back. A deep maroon cloak was clasped around her throat, and gold cuffs were banded on her upper arms.
She looked ready for war. Not to see them off on what should be a peaceful journey.
Mariah’s scowl deepened. “Drystan, Trefor, and the twins found him.”
“Found whom?” Sebastian scanned the courtyard. There was no sign of the two Armature and Kreah Ladies who would be remaining in Desva. He, Ciana, Quentin, and Delaynie milled about, finishing the packing of their saddlebags and the small wagon Quentin would drive. Matheo knelt in the shade beneath a tree, rummaging through his bags, his bow discarded beside him.
A flurry of movement and sound ignited at the west entrance to theserekahcourtyard. Trefor and Drystan appeared, teeth gritted as they dragged a hooded and struggling Kreah man between them. Kiira and Rylla—as a jaguar and a panther—stalked after them, rumbling snarls rolling from between their bared teeth.
A falcon’s cry tore through the air. There was a rush of feathers, a flash of blue light, then Amasis stood in the courtyard, bright blue eyes grim.
“Mariah,” the High Counsellor pleaded. “I understand your motivations. But I must counsel restraint at this juncture.”
Mariah regarded the High Counsellor cooly. “Thank you for the advice, Amasis.”
Sebastian didn’t like the darkness lingering behind Mariah’s words.
Trefor and Drystan tossed the man at Mariah’s feet, Kiira and Rylla circling. Callamus, still as a dragon, watched on, wings rustling the sands as he settled himself.
The man heaved himself up to his knees. With a growl, he tore the hood from his head.
Then blanched.
Mariah scanned him, almost disinterestedly. She flicked her gaze to Quentin. “This him?”
Quentin—eyes wide with surprise—nodded. “That’s him. The one who threw me in the pits.”
Oh, fuck.
