“No,” Veyra said sharply. “The Arcanth flows through you both – light, not shadow. That power was never meant to be twisted, and I will not see you attempt it under my watch.”
Kara released a shaky breath, gratitude flooding through her. “She’s right. You don’t need it, Sebastian. You’re already–”
But he set his shoulders, stubbornness flashing in the bond. “In two days we ride, Kara. If Draknor brings it against us, we need to know what we’re up against.”
Two days. Not weeks, not months. Days.
“Find another way,” Veyra snapped. “The Arcanth does not abide corruption.”
“I am not asking because I want to corrupt it. I want to defend–”
“No. You will not become what you fight, that path leads to ruin,” Veyra said, eyeing him closely. “That is my final word.”
At the look on her face, and much to Kara’s surprise, Sebastian fell silent, although the bond hummed with frustration, anger. And under all that – fear. Fear that he’d fail her.
“You won’t,” she murmured, just loud enough that only he heard her.
He stared at her.
“Fail,” she clarified. “You won’t. We won’t.”
He held her gaze for a long moment. “I hope you’re right.”
CHAPTER 41
TRAITORS IN THEIR MIDST
Menslach Bay stretches eight miles along Vallenna’s western shore. Full coastal defence requires a minimum of forty warships.
–Strategic Assessment, Admiral Dray of the Seventh Sail, Navyrian fleet
The two days vanished before Kara could draw breath. One moment she was sparring with Sebastian, safe under Fatàn’s shield; the next, she was saddling up her valmare for the first time in nearly a month. With one difference – she now had a blade strapped to her hip. Dread sat heavy in her, unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Not just that they were riding to face Draknor – though that alone was terrifying enough – but that they were about to stand before those who had, only weeks ago, voted for her death. Who would be waiting for them on the field? Allies... or enemies?
The others bustled around her, Fatàn banners of amethyst and silver flying above them in the early morning wind. Veyra had summoned all her villages and towns to her, and they’d answered. Her people formed ranks behind them, clad in riding leathers, ruby shield magic glimmering over their palms. The whole realm was stirring – everyone readying themselves, knowing that many wouldn’t return home. Kara found herself staring at Sebastian more often than not. Watching the confident way he moved, the cadence of his voice, his too-long dark hair, his blue eyes that softened just for her. Trying to memorise every part of him.
Just in case.
She watched as he tightened the straps of his own valmare’s saddle, a thread of crimson sparking across his hands. The satchel holding the Arcanth was slung across his body, but he’d added a shield of his own around it, glimmering ruby and gold. She suddenly had the urge to takehis hand, to run and never look back. The Southern Isles. Further even. She wouldn’t do it, but she wanted to. Gods, she did.
I won’t lose him.
Her mind, her heart, her very soul ached with the singular thought. Her hand went briefly to her chest, to the golden bond that lived constantly between them. It answered, steady and strong, Sebastian’s reassurance pulsing back inside her without him needing to speak.
“You ready?” he asked quietly, appearing at her side as though she had pulled him there.
No. I will never be ready for this.
But she nodded anyway.
“I’ll be right beside you,” he promised, helping her adjust the strap of her bridle. His hand lingered on hers before he stepped back. “Always.”
She reached up on her toes and kissed him softly on the lips. “I love you.”
He stroked her cheek once. “I love you too.”
That was it. He helped her into the saddle before mounting his own valmare. Veyra gave the signal, and they set off at a trot. The column of riders behind them began to move. Volcanic dust kicked up underneath the hooves of hundreds of valmares as Fatàn’s shieldweavers fell into formation. A ruby arc shimmered overhead, surrounding them. Veyra had ordered that they would take no risks – they would travel under a shield. They had the Arcanth, after all, and there were those in Vallenna that would still happily see both her and Sebastian dead. Kara forced herself to breathe. She straightened in the saddle, gaze forward. Each hoof beat brought them closer to the battlefield.
Closer to Draknor.
