Tara and Mother entered, carrying food stores from the underground cellar. “Is she still at it?” Tara asked, then tossed some longer strands of closely-cropped dark hair from her cheek.
“Hasn’t shut up yet,” Madoc said flatly. The whetstone rasped against his knife, a grating reminder of the tools he would carry to save Esme—and the tools I wouldn’t.
This argument had gone on for nearly a month, since Esme had been taken. I knew the man’s name now—Lethos Scalari, an Ederyn spy. He’d captured Esme to force my father into surrender, no doubt aiming for the sizable Lirien bounty on his head.
How he’d found us … that part terrified me.
For twenty-five years, the Viori had kept us safe. Despite my parents’ continued love for Ibarra and Pendara, we’d been protected. But now, someone had betrayed us.
Lethos had found Esme and me with shocking accuracy. The ease with which he and his men had gotten in—and out—of our territory suggested inside help.
“Even if your father relented, Seren, Lord Haldron has not permitted you to go into Lirien. Only Madoc and your father.” Mother sat on my other side, sympathy on her face. “We all want to help. I’m as desperate as you are to bring Esme home.”
A guttural growl of frustration left my lips. Viori laws had already delayed our ability to rescue Esme. My father, Madoc, and Tara had gone after her the day she was taken, heading toward the Ibarra border where Lethos claimed to be taking her.
The Vangar at the border had turned them back. Going into Lirien was forbidden. When my father had tried to go on without permission, they’d arrested him for rebellion—a crime punishable by execution. Only Tara and Madoc’s determination had allowed them to take him back to Emberstone and plead his case before Lord Haldron.
Whatever debt my father owed Haldron, the price would be high. But Father hadn’t shared the details of his deal.
“I’m just as angry about it as you are,” Tara said from beside Madoc. “But you don’t hear me arguing. Like it or not, Madoc is stronger and faster than either of us. Especially you. That’s why Father picked him.”
I stood and glowered at my father. “Father picked him because he has a cock. He’s made that clear enough.”
Father reached into my pack and removed the spell book I’d just packed. Standing, he held it out. “If you want to help, stay here and study this. You are more than just one thing, Seren. Being Unbound since infancy means you can cultivate this skill, but you’ve focused so much on being a Vangar warrior that you’ve lost sight of your other gifts. Study this, and you’ll be what I need the next time I face a dangerous mission.”
His words struck like a fist to my chest. My throat tightened, but I refused to let him see how much it stung.
Even Madoc blew out a low whistle.
“I haven’t lost sight of anything.” I yanked the book from his hands and shoved it back into my pack. The leather strap bit into my shoulder as I slung it over me.
I stormed out of the tent before anyone else spoke, anger churning in my gut. What does he know?
Father had always been affectionate. The days when I might have curled into his arms beside the stove on a brutal winter’s night were long gone, but he doted on us all. He didn’t know how I always took my mother’s spell books, studying Ibarran spellcraft. Maybe I wasn’t as gifted as my mother was, but I could hold my own. With simple spells, anyway.
The cold autumn air stung my cheeks, the scent of damp leaves and earth sharp in my nose. I tugged my woolen scarf higher, my breath misting in the moonlight.
Tara had easily resigned herself to Father’s decision. But she commanded her own Vangar squadron now. Maybe she felt needed here.
Tara also had the advantage of not being weighed down by guilt. I’d brought this upon our family.
I hurried down the well-worn path through the woods to the Vangar tents, stationed near the border of the tribe’s encampment. My friend Amahle would be in the officers’ barracks, which, like most common areas among our tribe, were just larger tents maintained by the community. Amahle knew me better than anyone, and I desperately needed her advice before I did something rash.
Soft footsteps approached.
My heart stumbled at the sight of Seth.
His jet-back hair shone in the moonlight, the pale skin of his arms bearing fresh tattoos on his well-muscled left forearm. Zhi men tattooed dragon outlines on each arm at fifteen. With each man they killed, another section of the dragon was inked in, symbolizing their growing strength and rank.
Seth’s dragon was nearly complete.
The sight unsettled me. Seth’s ascension had been swift and brutal, his ambitions growing faster than the ink could fill.
Despite looking down on my family’s devotion to their realms, he clung to Zhi traditions. The one dictating he could never marry a woman who wasn’t Zhi most of all.
Maybe I should have known. But at twenty, it never occurred to me that he’d take my heart in secret while planning to marry my friend, Darya.
I’d learned of his engagement the same day he married her. He’d spent the previous night with me.
