I rise slowly to my feet, brushing debris from my clothes, while at the same time camouflaging the image they see as bones knit back together, and wounds seal closed.
“I’m all right,” I say evenly. “Please disperse and return to your duties. I’m fine.”
“But, sir?—”
The protest comes from a man near the front, his face still stricken with disbelief. He’s new. His mind is not yet conditioned.
“There is nothing to worry about,” I tell him, meeting his gaze. “It was a small fall. That’s all. As you can see, I am unharmed. Go about your business.”
I wield more power until the worry drains from his features, replaced by compliance. Around him, others blink as if waking from a dream. They turn away one by one, the crowd dissolving into murmurs.
I do not linger. I move swiftly toward the stables. The commotion there, guards scrambling, raised voices, tells me everything I need to know.
A guard approaches, face pinched with dread.
I lift my hand before he can speak. “Don’t even say it.”
“A woman.”
“I said. Don’t.” The words aren’t voiced, they’re growled, and coated with every bit of the frustration barreling through my chest.
He visibly recoils.
Spinning, I scan the city with my awareness and open my mind to Calixis. She remains in the stable. Thank fuck. But what she reveals to me takes me by surprise.
It’s not her that the White Witch stole this time. It’s Mardoch’s offspring, the black stallion I had taken earlier. A horse I have no connection with. Which means I can’t see through his eyes to find her.
Smart.
Very smart.
And deeply maddening, because tracking her now will be twice as difficult and likely take twice as long.
I waste no more time. I move through the motions with ruthless efficiency, saddling Calixis and preparing for a longer journey. I mount her in one fluid movement, then ride out to hunt the white beauty who is rapidly turning my life upside down.
The only thing that offers me any measure of grim satisfaction as I push Cali into a hard gallop is thoughts of her punishment.
Except, eight hours later, I returned empty-handed, having lost her trail in the forest, which has never happened to me before. Not once.
It’s as if she vanished completely—her tracks there one moment and gone the next.
My temper and the urge to throttle her with my bare hands reach dangerous levels because I know it could be many months before she returns—if she decides to return at all.
Questions of her whereabouts pester me daily, a continual distraction I cannot afford—especially when Kahill arrives with thousands of men and women in tow, taking up residence along the borders of my city.
He’s a mighty tempest of unrest, his presence alone enough to agitate not only the humans he brings with him but every person within the city gates.
My life turns to utter chaos in a different way as my control over the city withers, and everything spirals into madness.
After being firmly reminded of our shared purpose—and his orders—Kahill begins to pull back his influence over the hearts and minds of those he commands. Even so, the residue of it lingers—volatile, combustible. It clings to them like static in the air before lightning strikes.
I spend an untold number of days and all of my energy replacing his hold with my own, weaving steadier threads of order into the masses. Calming fear. Tempering aggression. Redirecting restless hands toward labor instead of violence.
There will be a time for war.
This is not it.
Until that day, I must maintain my hold over the ecosystem here so it does not ignite prematurely. Otherwise, his actions could have catastrophic consequences at the cost of these souls.
