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“Who?”
“You know who.” Gwyn chuckled. “Prince Kage. Now go.”
Without a moment to question, Gwyn leveled a quick smack to Sleipnir’s haunches, and the horse bolted into the trees.
CHAPTER 22
Adira
Branches reached overheadlike bony fingers threaded together. Ferns of brilliant green lined a narrow path littered in jutting roots and black stones.
A labyrinth of cutaways broke through the wood, weaving through tall aspens and mighty oaks. Storm clouds swelled overhead in a cold squall. The wood was eerily quiet. Only the bluster of wind, snap of twigs, or our puffs of breath were heard.
Thin, sleek, leather boots were oddly comfortable, and I hardly missed the slip-on loafers I always wore before. I kept a grasp on the skirt of my woolen dress in one hand, the reins with the other. Sleipnir was a gentle horse, leading us up slopes, down curved paths.
Hugo’s horse was louder, and often protested the more we trudged deeper into the chill.
Why had fate, or the sacrifice, or some goddess plopped me into the heat of Las Vegas? Would’ve been nicer to grow up near Nordic fjords or Alaska. Magiaria was a land of mists and cool winds.
I was not acclimating as swiftly as I’d like.
“Tell me there is some sort of heat in the actual Warming season, Hugo.” I adjusted the cloak he’d offered around my shoulders, teeth clacking.
“Oh yes. It’s blistering hot for at least three whole days.”
I snorted. “Looking forward to it.”
The grin on Hugo’s face dwindled. “If Warming comes next season.”
I squeezed my thighs around Sleipnir’s middle when we tipped up a steep slope. “You know what’s happening? Destin said few knew about the true degeneration.”
“I’m an inner guard, Lady Adira. I am held to secrecy, but it weighs heavy on my mind with each sunrise.”
“Have you, you know, felt any impact?”
“Other than memories that are shadowed with gaping holes? No. Not yet.”
My shoulders slumped. This whole search was to avoid destruction of a people I was coming to love, and the one they were depending on could hardly draw out a single flicker of magic.
Soon, we were swallowed up by a grove of evergreens that blotted out the misty light.
From inside a pouch tethered to his belt, Hugo removed two red tubular roots. “Here, for you.”
“What is it?”
“Lyse root. Have you read anything on herbal spells during your studies?”
“A little.”
“Good. Hold it flat in your palm, yes, like that.” Hugo turned to his root. “Now, let it settle against your skin until you feel a subtle heat, then say the wordtendra. Draw out the end of the cast. Here, watch me.”
Hugo focused on the bulbous plant for a few heartbeats, then whispered the strange word like a song. A poetic plea.
All at once the root burst into a brilliant white flame. Without a flinch, Hugo held the fire in his open palm.
“Is it not burning you?”
“Not at all. Lyse give off a glow when commanded. It only appears as a flame. Give it a go.”
