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“I will join you in that,” she murmured, knowing it could never be.
Shivering, she lay down against the rocks, eager to sleep, even as the cold seeped up through her clothes. In spite of herself, her teeth chattered. Eyes shut, she heard Dom attempt a fire, only for the constant wind to blow it out half a dozen times.
When he at last lay down beside her, his warmth like the sun, she did not move, her eyes still closed, the mask of sleep drawn tight over her face.
Even so, she knew her heart betrayed her. The slow, methodic beat jumped with every shift of his body, and her own.
31
The First Army
Andry
Despite his best efforts, the Ionian guards would not let him pass. The doors to the throne room remained barred to him, so Andry was forced to pace. He could not hear beyond the doors but strained to listen anyway. Murmurs echoed, Corayne’s higher voice easy to pick out. She spoke quickly, with desperation.
Our time has run out, she said just moments ago, outside the castle. He could only hope Isibel believed her. The Monarch’s own voice was lower, more grave. Like the distant tolling of a heavy bell.
He could not hear other Elder leaders, but Andry knew they were never far from Isibel’s side. Lord Valnir and Lady Eyda spent many days trying to sway Isibel to war, the immortal siblings openly frustrated by her lack of action.
Andry wished for Garion, who might have better luck sneaking into the throne room. But he was still with Charlie, in Lenava to await news.
Corayne is alone in there, he thought with a wince.Not that I would be much use.
The murmurs echoed, harsher than before. Arguing.
His heart twisted and he halted, facing the guards.
I cannot make her fight alone.
“Let me pass,” he said. It was not a request, but a command rising up from somewhere deep, spoken in a voice Andry did not know he possessed.
The guards only blinked, unmoving and silent.
Andry deflated, all but huffing. “Very well,” he grumbled. “I shall just wear a hole in my boots then.”
He began pacing again, only to halt at the echoing sound of approaching feet. Behind him, the Elder guards straightened even taller, at attention, their chins raised.
The Monarch of Kovalinn came around a corner at speed, the young immortal flanked by a contingent of his own guards. His pet bear was not with him, relegated to the stables of Tíarma.
“Your Highness,” Andry said, dropping into a well-practiced bow.
Dyrian fixed him with a gray-eyed stare, his stern manner at odds with such a young face.
“Andry Trelland,” Dyrian replied, giving him a curt nod. Then he glanced past, gaze shifting to the guards and the throne room beyond. “It seems we have something in common, sir.”
Sir.Andry all but jumped at the title, even if the young lord did not understand its weight.
“Certainly the guards will let you pass, my lord,” he offered, glancing to the throne room.
Dyrian fidgeted with the silver chain holding his sable cloak in place. “They would. But I know better than to go where I will only be in the way.”
Andry could not help but be amused by the child Elder. He heaved a sigh in agreement. “If only I learned that lesson months ago.”
“From what I hear, the world would be ended already,” Dyrian said,peering up at him. “If not for the brave work of Andry Trelland.”
Heat crept up Andry’s face.
“I do not think that is true, my lord.”
