Cara had her hand on the hilt of the knife I’d given her. I rested my hand lightly over hers as I translated, because we were not going to need to draw blades. “How do you not recognize the king’s son? I might be half another, but I am all Braegan’s son.”
He had not used that name since he had come into the clans with his brothers’ blood drying on his hands, since I had hauled him to the healer.
“He’s a prince?” Cara whispered back to me.
“He is. It is a useful card to play.”
He had not thanked me for dragging him to the healers. This moment, his usefulness to me when I needed him, was how he would show his gratitude. Now that he was part of Bismyth, it would be how he showed his gratitude for the rest of his life.
The orc in the center looked at him for a long moment, long enough that my fingers twitched, eager to reach for my sword hilt. But I did not touch it. In case they looked back at us, I took Cara’s hand from the hilt and held her hand instead. Her pulse was wild in her slender throat.
They bowed their heads and stepped aside. Then, more meaningfully, they moved forward, blocking us from Obsidian.
Now the only thing that mattered was what was before us. Obsidian would have to backtrack to avoid combat and move up outside orc territory, tracing the boundary and hoping they managed to find us.
Kiegan remounted without looking at either of us.
Behind us, Obsidian did not cross.
We rode hard after that, trying to make the most of the lead we had from Obsidian so they could not intercept us again when we left orc borders. Kiegan led, picking the line through trees that thinned and thickened in turns. Cara braced against my chest.
Braegan would hear, sooner or later, that his son had invoked his name. I would like to be far from orc territory when he investigated.
“Kiegan’s heritage being a useful card.” Cara’s voice was uneven from the roughness of our strides, rising and falling as the horse galloped. She was going to be miserable later from the ride, but it was unavoidable. “I begged you to bring him into Bismyth. I was touched you listened to me. You were always going to bring him into Bismyth, were you not?”
“Honestly now. It does no good to lie to one’s mate.”Shadowbane warned me. Then, more warmly:“She is trapped with you anyway. You are safe.”
I did notfeelsafe from Cara’s contempt. My own mother despised me; it did not seem unlikely that my wife might as well. “Yes.”
She shook her head. “I will need a list. Soon. Of all the ways you’ve tricked me.”
“She will forgive you,”Shadowbane spoke as if he and I were already in an argument.“She is your mate.”
“All right,” I told her. “When we’re not riding for our lives.”
Kiegan’s voice carried back to us, low. “The king will send assassins.”
“I know.”
“He’ll have wondered why his worthy sons never came home. Now that he’s going to know I’m alive…” He did not finish the thought. He did not need to, and probably could not bear to.
“Good thing I’ll likely burn alive at the Claiming,” Kiegan added, and he slowed his horse to come aside us, his heavy brows crinkling. “Save him the mess of dragging me back to torture me to death.”
I scoffed. “It’s unlikely. Some do burn, yes. The unworthy. You wouldn’t be here if you were unworthy.”
The choice of words was deliberate. His father saw him as unworthy. My mother saw me as unworthy. Someone would always see us as unworthy, and it was our work to not allow ourselves to be particularly interested in their assessments.
“You think the dragons are going to choose an orc with a reputation for murdering his brothers?”
“Very much yes. Dragons have terrible judgment.”
Cara’s startled laugh was something I felt through my body, with more sense of accomplishment than I felt overcoming any enemy.
When he still looked unconvinced, I added, “Shadowbane chose me.”
He looked as if he found that a little more convincing, which was insulting.
“I have excellent judgment,”Shadowbane muttered.“I’m just early in the stages of molding you into a hero. Or even someone bearable.”
