Seliora pressed her lips thin and shook her head. She possessed broader shoulders, stronger limbs. Whether Lemella would tolerate her weight remained doubtful.
My husband worked his jaw, muscles ticking beneath the dark shadow of his beard. His gaze returned to Anna. “You can get us inside the manor.” It sounded more like a challenge than a question.
“Or die trying.”
His eyes closed for a brief beat, cheek flinching with a twitch. He did not welcome that answer. Timing would be everything, and she was only one person.
One goat rider against Tallon’s forces.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kallias
Istared at Anna, the young woman I knew from Sol. Moonlight brushed her cheekbones, caught in the loose wisps of hair that had escaped her braid. She had been such a bright, cheerful child, the daughter of the master cobbler. Renowned enough to have been around the goats her whole life, yet far enough from court that her absence would barely stir a whisper.
She was no warrior. A small crossbow hung from her saddle, the bow itself polished and neat, more ornament than weapon. I wondered if she could even strike a target with it. It was built for close shooting, the kind nobles used for sport in sheltered groves. Something elegant hands might practice with while servants collected bolts from painted boards.
“How overrun is the manor?” The words tasted of iron. I needed to know exactly what I was asking her to do, what measure of fool’s hope I was fastening to a girl.
“He doesn’t have enough men to hold Sol and keep a firm hand on the manor, and I know it well enough to get around.” Her reply came fast, almost tripping over itself, as if she fearedI would turn her down. The bravado she carried when we first arrived had drained away, leaving her jaw set tight. “He sleeps there with the Velli ambassador, the one from Reem. Claydon and Gayle’sol are there too.”
Alive.
Relief slammed into me like a blade pulled free from between my ribs. Adrenaline followed close on its heels. My heart raced, demanding I seize this plan and run with it, that I tear open the manor gates and drag my friend back into the light.
“And Fyrn’sol? Where is she?”
Anna’s face shuttered. Her shoulders drew in a fraction, chin angling away from me. The night air cooled between us. Why did Fyrn’s name bruise her so easily?
What had she done?
“Lady Fyrn is also in the manor.” Anna shifted in her saddle, leather creaking, clearly uncomfortable. “Though I do not anticipate any aid from her.”
Questions pressed at my tongue, but logic held me back. This was neither the time nor the place for interrogations. I didn’t need to know how they gained entry—only how to infiltrate the place myself and see them out.
“Fair enough. If we lure Tallon and Egath to the city and meet you at the tunnel door, you can manage to open it?”
She nodded, tension easing from her shoulders at the change of subject. “There are only two that guard the door from the inside. I haven’t traversed the tunnels, but I imagine they’re the same.”
“You let us worry about the tunnels.”
If we reached the manor, we could carve our way into Sol. It would not be quick—or clean—but it was possible. Without reclaiming Clay’s home, we were stranded on the plains, staring up at the Andeluith while Tallon ruled from its heights.
“Meet back here tomorrow night—same time. Seliora will tell you the exact moment we will need those doors opened.” I drew a breath that scraped my lungs raw and pushed the ache in my heart aside. “May Elohios light your way.”
“Blessed be.” She flashed a proud smile, quick and young, then nudged her goat forward.
The mottled giant snorted, breath steaming white in the chill. It chewed its cud as it turned toward the mountain, hooves testing the rock with delicate precision. Miniature goats burst from beneath its legs, far larger than any kids I had seen, their coats a patchwork of cream and charcoal. They leapt and pranced behind her, little ears flopping about their heads.
A smile tugged at me despite myself as I watched them pick their way up the mountain. Anna moved with the animal as though she’d been born in its saddle, her weight an extension of its body. Barely a pebble slid beneath them. The beasts selected narrow holds no wider than a palm, climbing angles that would break a man’s neck. I had seen them scale sheer rock before, bodies pressed to stone, breath steady, horns grazing granite. The kids followed, springing into each place the mother vacated, tiny grunts puffing in the dark.
Nienna grinned after them. Her hood had fallen back, and the fading moon caught in her hair, silvering the blonde strands that cascaded over her shoulder. For a fragile moment, I could forget what the stakes were; pretend we were only out for a night ride, stumbling upon one of Clay’s herds. The wind smelled of pine and cold earth. Crickets sang from the brush.
She glanced at me—and her smile thinned. The light in her gaze hardened into resolve. Joy had no place here. Claydon’s survival seemed less like triumph and more like a blade pressed to my spine. A grim reminder of what we would lose if this failed.
And all of it rested on a young girl’s shoulders.
I leaned and guided my horse around, grateful for the broad, steady back beneath me. Greaves stared into the trees, brows drawn tight. His grim hesitation had my body tensing as my horse rolled the bit, foam flecking his lips.
