Seth, who had remained silent, watched his wife go before turning his focus back to us. “I’ll allow for Westhaven’s leg irons to be removed so he can ride on your horse, Seren. But he rides with you, not alone.”
“Riding on a horse together will make for a slower journey.” I crossed my arms.
“We can’t risk putting him on a horse alone. He’ll ride best with you since you’re small. I believe your friends are inside the stable preparing horses, so they can help accommodate you.”
Unwilling to goad him any further, I didn’t argue. At least riding with Rykr might allow me to read along the journey—gods knew when I’d get another chance. “Fine. I’ll go get the horse if you’ll remove his leg irons.” I headed into the stables to where Ciaran and Amahle waited with the horses they’d saddled.
Amahle’s dark brown eyes reflected unease as I greeted her. “Did he tell you about Giulia and the new orders?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t elaborate—better to say nothing than lie. Tying my pack to the horse Ciaran had saddled for me, I glanced at the mare my family owned. She was too old and small to carry both Rykr and me.
Ciaran’s horse, a young gelding, would be stronger for the journey.
“Think Rykr and I can use your gelding? Seth says we have to ride together.”
Ciaran frowned, his gaze lingering on Rykr as he entered the stable, free of his leg irons. “It’ll slow us down, but sure.” He hesitated, adding, “Cozy ride, though.”
Rykr joined us a moment later and Amahle smiled at him. “I’m Amahle. We didn’t meet properly at the council meeting.”
“I wouldn’t have remembered, with the whole blinding pain thing.” Rykr turned to Ciaran. “Callen, right?”
“Ciaran,” he muttered, reddening.
Swiver. He knew Ciaran’s name.
Rykr caught my glare, his voice slipping into my mind. “He should worry less about our saddle space and more about himself.”
“Or maybe he’s just being considerate,” I shot back.
Amahle glanced between us, her brow furrowing slightly. “Everything okay?”
“Just fine.” I moved past Rykr to help Ciaran unsaddle the horse. The tension in Ciaran’s posture was obvious as he worked, and he didn’t look at me.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
Ciaran shook his head, placing a sturdy bareback blanket on the gelding. “He’s arrogant, and he wants me to know you’re his.”
I set my hand on Ciaran’s arm. “I don’t belong to anyone. If Rykr needs to be humbled, so be it. You’re my friend, and I won’t let him humiliate you.”
Ciaran’s neck reddened, and he pulled away. “If he dies, you die, right?”
I nodded, regretting that I’d told them about the oath’s consequences. But I trusted them. They needed to understand why Rykr’s life mattered.
“Then, like it or not, your loyalty belongs to him.” Ciaran’s voice was low, but there was no mistaking the edge to it. “I’m not so foolish that I can’t see it.”
His words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. If Ciaran, who knew me better than anyone, already doubted me, how could I hope to convince Seth and Darya? Worse still, how could I convince myself that I hadn’t crossed some invisible line, one where duty and loyalty blurred in ways I wasn’t ready to face?
He’s wrong, I told myself. But doubt gnawed at me as we started the trek toward the training field. What if they refused to see it that way? The bond with Rykr wasn’t something I’d wanted—it had been forced upon us. But would that matter to Seth, to the council, or even to my closest friends?
I was proud to be Viori. Unlike Lirien, where power was bound and controlled from birth, we were free to grow into our gifts. No Bloodbinding to sever us from what the gods had bestowed. Amahle had been born with spirit gliding—a Zhi craft. Ciaran could bend metal as easily as a Volker craftsman shaped iron. And Esme, sweet Esme, could speak to animals as though their souls were one, as well as any Ambran. All of them would have been snuffed out in Lirien—the Bloodbinding removed gifts like that from every infant, only leaving them powers if they’d been fortunate enough to be born with a gift that was allowed in the realm of their birth.
“You’re riding as stiffly as a corpse,” Rykr commented in a low voice behind me.
While it made more sense for me to ride behind Rykr, Seth wanted me in charge of the reins, which meant that Rykr’s iron-bound wrists were around my waist, his chest against my back.
“Maybe because it makes no sense for us to be riding on this damned horse together all because Seth is afraid you’ll ride off on your own. Not to mention how lovely it is to have you breathing down my neck.”
“I wouldn’t trust me either, if I were him,” Rykr said, more reasonable than I’d expected him to be. “Not that I’d get far. He’s had me followed most of the time I’ve been here. And you didn’t seem to mind me breathing down your neck last night, thistling.” He set his jaw against my shoulder, as though to prove he could.
