“I heard her tell me to leave her and her Guard alone.”
I check the bag of coins strapped to the saddle for the hundredth time, glad that Prae did a good enough job of saving at least some of my hard-earned winnings. The rest she spent on new wardrobes for both of us. We’ve traded our Elfhame livery for leather armour in the hopes that we can pass for high fae mercenaries. She even got me a crossbow and herself a set of enchanted throwing knives.
And yet, the glimmer of the knight commander’s sword still peeks out from the centre of her bedroll.
“If Rose truly doesn’t care about you, why did she sneak away to heal you?”
“Because she’s got a bleeding heart.” I sigh and tug my horse back towards the stable. “We can stay here. I’ll keep fighting so you have enough money to get by with when Danu’s curse takes me…”
I trail off, freezing in place as a familiar voice drifts through the door of the stable we just left.
“I need a good horse and your best charms for speed and endurance.”
“How far do you need to go?” the gruff horsemaster replies.
“Siabetha. Quickly.”
I hold my breath, praying that this isn’t who I think it is, but the priest who exits the stables five minutes later, leading a grey gelding, is unmistakable.
It’s him. The priest who watched as I was tortured. He doesn’t recognise us—our glamours are different now—and he’s distracted enough that I don’t think he even notices we’re here.
My hands clench on the reins, and if I had access to my powers, I’d strike his head from his shoulders.
“Grand Cleric,” a smaller fae beside him pipes up. “I beg you to reconsider. Your presence is needed in the capital more than ever now that the spring queen’s leadership is under scrutiny. The people need you. The calming words of Danu—”
“Will mean nothing if we don’t stop the Fomorians’ plans to poison the holy office of Nicnevin,” Mervyn argues, swinging up onto his horse.
“We sent a hawk to Siabetha—”
“This is far too important to entrust to a bird. The other grand clerics will not act against that phoney high priestess without good reason. King Eero must keep the Nicnevin distracted until we can find a way to force her to hand her crown down to her daughter. Necromancy, Poldrick! Danu would never give such a dark gift to her chosen Nicnevin. This is Fomorian dark magic at work. Corruption of our most sacred office! I will not rest until we have a true Nicnevin with a respectable high fae court.”
With that declaration, he spurs the gelding through the gates of the courtyard, leaving the younger priest behind to gape at him in astonishment.
“He means to kill her,” Prae murmurs, and something in my chest seethes at the statement. “What did he mean about Fomorian corruption?”
I scoff. “Fucker thinks we interfered with Rose’s birth or something. Poisoned her magic and made her Guard and high priestess turn out wrong.” I flex my hand at the memory of him demanding my nails pulled. “It’s all some bullshit theory he’s come up with to justify his hatred of being subservient to the dryad. He kept trying to force me to confess to poisoning the sacred well of the goddess or some shit.”
“What do you want to do?” Prae asks, eyeing the gate warily. “He’ll be riding hard to Siabetha. We won’t beat him there. We don’t have enough coin for those kinds of enchantments.”
“We follow anyway,” I retort automatically, before her answering grin makes me realise what I’ve done. “Only because I owe him the loss of ten fingernails.”
“Of course.” Prae tries for a disinterested shrug, as if this wasn’t what she wanted all along. I bet she’d be singing ‘I told you so’ at the top of her lungs if not for the young priest still standing on the other side of the yard.
“And when we get there?”
I sigh, swinging into the saddle and checking my weapons automatically. “I don’t have a plan, Prae. She doesn’t want me. They don’t want me near her. But if she needs me…”
I owe it to her to be there. I can’t say it, but Prae must read it in my face because she taps her mare with her heels and leads the way out of the city, following that self-righteous cleric into the wilds.
Thirty
Rhoswyn
Pavellen may be beautiful, but I couldn’t be more ready to leave it behind as I examine the boat waiting for us in the city’s large harbour. It’s a beautiful river barge, though I’m told we’ll only be on it for the better part of the day, thanks to the speed of the current.
It seems counterintuitive to travel by water, but as the river Ellen is unconnected to any of the northern rivers, Kitarni reassures me that it’s quite safe. While there is always a chance that Fomorian raiders will attempt an ambush, there are glamour charms across the hull aimed at making the boat invisible to anyone who isn’t fae, and even if there weren’t, my Guard is more than capable of taking them out.
Still, it’s not the ship that holds my attention.
