If only the captain were dumber. But she’d survived a lot, and Syla dared not underestimate her.
Syla walked toward the cliff. Even before they neared the edge, her heartbeat kicked up, thumping rapidly in her ears. With an enemy walking right behind her, how not? Lesva wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if she decided she didn’t need a moon-marked guide.
The wind also kicked up, scouring the lava rock and tugging at the healer’s robe. By now, it had dried, and the hem kept flapping about Syla’s knees. It was a contrast to the tight-fitting riding leathers that Lesva wore, clothes that accented her lean and powerful form.
Syla couldn’t bring herself to approach the cliff too closely, though caves would more likely be found in its vertical face. The thought of crawling down the treacherous rock held no appeal. Even as a little girl, before she’d needed spectacles, she hadn’t been the most agile of climbers. She recalled being startled by a squirrel and falling out of a tree and into an apple cart one summer. Venia had witnessed the clumsiness and teased her relentlessly for weeks.
A pang of sorrow stabbed at her heart at the memory.
“If you’re thinking of ending your life instead of betraying your people,” Lesva said, no doubt noticing her long look at the cliff, “I’m afraid I can’t allow that. Not until you show me to the shielder.”
“A pity,” Syla said, though she had far too much to do to commit suicide. The kingdom needed her.
Determined, Syla looked left and right along the top of the cliff. Just visible in the gloom lay a jumble of rocks perched about twenty feet back from the edge. Getting there wouldn’t be too treacherous, and a dark spot in the center looked like a hole or maybe the cave that Syla hoped for. It probably didn’t lead to a lava tube, but maybe she could come up with a reason to linger inside. Searching for a hidden entrance, perhaps. By candlelight.
While Syla had paused to look around, Lesva had gazed over the precipice. Jagged rocks protruded from the churning white sea far below. Should Syla fall over—or bepushedover—she had no doubt that she would die upon those rocks. She briefly entertained the notion of trying to pushLesvaover, but she could never match the woman physically. Besides, Lesva probably had theperipheral vision of a hawk. No. Of adragon. She wouldn’t be caught by surprise.
“That looks familiar.” Syla pointed at the rock jumble.
One of Lesva’s eyebrows twitched, but she waved with the sword for Syla to lead the way.
Yes, that was a cave in the rock jumble, one that slanted downward, under the lava field, and went deeper than Syla had expected. Maybe itdidconnect to the warren of tubes within the volcano. For the sake of her candles, it would be better if it were a small and enclosed space.
Before stepping into the cave, Syla couldn’t keep from looking around one more time, hoping to see…
“He’s not coming for you,” Lesva snapped, poking her with the sword. Her earlier amusement had vanished. “Though I’m sure he’ll be flattered that you’re pining for him.”
Jaw clenched, Syla couldn’t keep from slanting a dark glower over her shoulder before stepping into the cave.
Lesva snorted. “You know he was only helping you because General Jhiton ordered it, right? Seduce the princess. Learn what she knows.”
“I gathered it was something like that.” Syla wasn’t surprised, but hearing it stung.
She lifted both hands to grope her way into the dark cave. It smelled of fish and seaweed. Birds or other animals must have brought their meals up here from time to time.
“He’s known for his allure to women,” Lesva added, following her closely, as if Syla might sprint off and escape.
If only she could. There was nothing hawk- or dragon-like about her vision, and in the gloom, she stumbled over the uneven floor of the cave.
Fortunately, there wasn’t far to go. After sloping down, the cave widened, the floor flattening into something akin to a room, but itdidn’t continue on from there. They were out of the wind, and there wasn’t much ventilation. Maybe…
Syla turned slowly. Lesva was outlined against the dim light coming from the entrance. Lean and hard, her sword in one hand, she gazed coolly back at Syla.
“This might be the spot,” Syla said. “I remember there being a sigil on the wall, but I was here on a much brighter day.”
One lie after another. They made her nervous, especially since Lesva was so good at seemingly reading her mind.
“Light those candles,” Lesva said.
Syla licked her lips. “All right.”
She knelt, tugged the pack off, and reached for the flap. But she froze as the sharp gargoyle-bone blade came to rest under her chin, forcing her to look up at Lesva. In the dark, she couldn’t see the woman’s face, but she suspected the captain saw every detail of hers, including the fear in her eyes.
“I think you’re lying to me,” Lesva stated, “and hope that if you dawdle long enough, Vorik will come for you.”
“I’d be foolish to lie to someone as dangerous as you.”
“That’s the truth, but I think you’re a fool. You wereespeciallya fool if you ever thought Captain Vorik would go against his brother’s wishes, betray his people, and help a pudgy, blind gardener female.”
