There was no solitude to be found in each other’s arms. No lingering embrace. No murmured vows of undying love. We dressed in haste, pulling on rough linens and worn trousers that smelled of horse and smoke. My shoulders felt strangely bare without the mantle’s weight as we stepped from the tent into the chill.
My hair hung loose down my back, hidden beneath the hood of my oiled cloak. We moved through camp with lowered heads, shadows among shadows, boots crunching over stiff grass. The air tasted of ash and iron. At the corrals, a woman waited. A long black braid lay over one shoulder. She was plain—but pleasant in a natural beauty way.
Easy to forget—as most spies preferred.
She met my gaze and dipped her chin in a show of respect. “The night is young. We will return by sunrise.”
“I expect nothing less.” Kallias ducked beneath the rope fence and claimed the reins of a bay; the animal tossed its head as if sensing his tension.
Greaves steadied a small, dark mare for me. I mounted and watched the Harvester swing into her saddle with fluid ease. She guided her horse closer to mine.
“Seliora, at your service.” She kept my title unspoken, a quiet courtesy. She didn’t strike me as the type to speak withoutprompting. This was her way of apologizing for the lack of formality.
We had no true privacy. Soldiers milled about, drifting between fires. Some stared openly, watching with curious expressions. Others paid us no mind, too tired or distracted or enveloped in their own conversations. Scouts often came and went at night, so our departure raised little suspicion. Still, I tugged my cloak lower, uneasy at how the hem of my tattered dress snagged against the saddle leather.
“Harvester,” I replied. “I hope this proves worthwhile.”
And worth the compromise Kallias and I struck.
There hadn’t been enough time to fill Ronan in. Had I tried, he would have followed, relentless as flame, reckless enough to take wing after me despite orders. Yet his ignorance carried its own dangers. If something happened to us, he couldn’t arrive in time. Safety and desire rarely shared the same path. I had not expected the divide to feel so sharp.
“This way.” Seliora pressed her heels to her horse and led us around the paddock.
Darkness swallowed the plains as we left the last ring of firelight behind. Clouds smothered the moon. Hooves thundered against packed earth, the sound hollow in the night. My pulse beat hard against my ribs. The ground ahead blurred into ink. We galloped blind. Fear tightened around my throat at the thought of a hidden rut or sinkhole snapping a leg and pitching me into blackness.
Dragonback never stirred this dread. On a dragon, wind sang and sky opened wide. On a horse, each stride jarred my spine and rattled my teeth. Anxiety rode with me, looming and persistent.
We did not speak. We spread our horses out, bodies bent low against their straining necks. Pain bloomed along my thighs,sore from days in the saddle. My lower back throbbed with every jolt.
Kallias’ cloak snapped behind him like a banner in a storm. He never voiced discomfort—so I swallowed my own.
Hours later, our mounts slowed to a weary walk, flanks slick with sweat, breath steaming in the cold. Seliora guided us into winding foothills until the open plains surrendered to thick forest. Trees crowded close together, their trunks rising like pillars in a cathedral of shadow. Darkness pooled between them, heavy as wet wool across my shoulders.
Doubt crept in. Compared to the others, I was weak—useless. Was it right for me to come? Would I slow them down, distract them if things went poorly?
Kallias rode steady, hood pushed back enough to survey the terrain. Greaves kept his lowered, reins gathered in one hand, the other resting on his sword hilt as his gaze sliced through the gloom.
The path Seliora followed might as well have been invisible. Even in daylight, I doubted I would have marked it. My horse tracked Kallias’ mount, picking careful steps along a narrow incline. Greaves closed in behind me. Silence thickened. Only the soft clop of hooves and the rhythmic pull of breath disturbed it. Even the forest seemed to listen. The skin at my nape prickled with the promise of ambush.
“Halt!”
My horse snorted and stamped as I drew the reins tight, eyes scanning rock and shadow for the unseen speaker.
“Kahve!” Seliora called, calm as still water.
Kallias stiffened, his hand drifting toward his blade.
“You’ve brought one rider too many.” The voice carried from the dark, distorted, yet edged with something almost feminine. “That was not the agreement.”
A low, monstrous rumble answered from somewhere unseen. Leather bit into my palm as I forced my heartbeat to steady. I was the Dragon’s Heart. Earthbound beasts did not intimidate me.
“You agreed to see Radaan’s king, shadowed by his guard,” Seliora replied. “I have brought him.”
“Who rides between them? State your name, or I depart, and you will rot upon the dread plains.”
I waited for Kallias to deny me with a glance. He did not.
“I am the Dragon’s Heart. Queen of Radaan.” My chin lifted toward the dark, though I could not be certain where the voice lingered. “To summon my husband is to summon his joined soul.”
