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Elyse stood, grabbed the book on statues and the atlas, and hurried down the hall to her bedchamber. She packed a bag with supplies for a few days and a handful of transportation potions. As she went to tie off the bundle, she paused. Guilt trickled into her stomach. She was abandoning Jaime’s requests. He’d done everything for her and asked nothing of her in return. Yet there she was, ready to throw it in his face.
Elyse blew out a breath and knotted her bag. She would have plenty of time to ponder her actions on the walk from Bendsworth to Prestowne—and to develop her plan. As she clamored out the door of the estate and paced to the edge of the wards, she didn’t even look back.
Chapter 9
- Killian -
The trees rose high on either side of Killian as he rode the dirt path from the capital to Prestowne. When he looked behind him, he could barely make out the first rays of sun peaking through the summer foliage. He was making good time, thanks to the mare he’d “borrowed.”
He felt some shame about taking the horse without the stable owner’s permission, but no one would have lent him a horse in the middle of the night. He’d left more than the horse’s worth in silver for the stable hand, and a note that he’d have her returned in a few days at the most.
The pinto mare seemed to match Killian’s enthusiasm. She had obediently followed him out of the stall without any trouble, patiently letting him saddle and bridle her. And as soon as they’d hit the cobblestone streets of the capital, she’d taken off at a gallop, as if she’d been born for the mission.
They’d slowed as they exited the gates of the capital, but still maintained a steady pace. The mare, who Killian took to calling Lady Midnight, eagerly obeyed each tug of the reins and kick of his heels. If he weren’t so anxious about what he faced in Prestowne, he might have found the ride relaxing.
Instead, dread ate at him. Whatever produced that level of intense magic couldn’t be good. He felt foolish for not reaching out to Manny for backup, but it was too late now. This was his mess, and he wouldn’t ask anyone else to clean it up for him.
Prestowne couldn’t be far off. He kept his eyes peeled, searching for anything suspicious. But above all, he searched for signs of her.
How would he react when he saw her? He assured himself he would remain steadfast in his commitment to bring her to justice. If anything, two months of ruminating over his failure had only hardened his heart more.
Lady Midnight came to an abrupt stop, shaking her head ferociously. Killian dug his heels into her sides and kissed her forward, but the mare turned to the side, trying to hike back up the path.
“Woah, girl!” Killian shouted. Lady Midnight bucked, and he had to hold tight to avoid flying out of the saddle. He let her take them a few paces back up the road, and she settled noticeably, though she still seemed rattled as she snorted in disapproval.
Again Killian tried to coax her to the west, but she refused to budge. What in the gods’ names had gotten into her? Perhaps a snake had spooked her, or some other creature. She’d been mild-mannered the entire journey, but it seemed he might be endangering himself by pushing her forward.
Based on his calculations, he couldn’t be far from Prestowne, maybe a mile at most. Reluctantly, he decided to tie Lady Midnight to a tree and make the rest of the trek on foot.
Once he started walking, he was grateful for the exercise to help relieve his agitation. But the relief was short-lived. The closer he came to Prestowne, the more nervous he grew, and he fidgeted ceaselessly with the hilt of his dagger. He knew danger lay ahead, he just didn’t know how much.
Killian lifted his gaze to the treetops. The western sky should have been brighter, given that the sun had half crested the eastern horizon, but nothing but black sky could be seen between the tree limbs. The short hairs along the back of his neck prickled, but he kept moving onward.
When the trees finally parted, opening to show the road to Prestowne, he understood the darkness. Pillars of black smoke suffocated the sky as they rippled from nearly every building in the village. Woe punched into his gut as his knees buckled beneath him.
He was too late.
Chapter 10
- Killian -
The town was silent save for the smoldering crackle of dwindling fires and Killian’s panicked motions. He hurried from one half-scorched building to another, praying to find someone alive, but all he found was corpse after corpse sprawled on the floor, their flesh seared. The stench was unbearable. The smoke mingled with the scent of the charred bodies, and he vomited up his guts more than once. Yet the smell was nothing compared to the eerily visceral doom that had settled over the town, thickening the air and sending a permanent chill up Killian’s spine.
He didn’t know how many buildings he searched before he gave up, accepting that he would find the same haunting tale in every house, tavern, and business. His head spun, each blink bringing the image of another body. They were too badly burned to discern who was male or female, old or young, but his traitorous imagination could fill in the gaps.
A mother.
A wife.
A son.
A brother.
The image of his own siblings’ bodies resurfaced in his mind, the details fresh from the horrors around him. His knees buckled. He wasn’t getting enough air. He felt as if he would scream if he didn’t get out of this wretched place now.
He collapsed in the middle of the corpse-lined street, his heart thundering as panic tightened its fist around his lungs. A thousand thoughts roared through his head at once, but none of them were coherent.
He was too late. Hundreds were dead, and he could do nothing about it.
