Page 93 of The Ashborn

Kienna’s feet moved before her mind comprehended what was going on. They weaved through the square and into the alleyways. The little girl ran around and around. Her giggles rang out like a melody haunted by an impending war. Kienna shivered. When the girl stopped, they were in front of the bridge, staring at Baila. The redheaded bitch from River Storm held a blade so black, it ate the shadows.

The child held Moira’s hand and—what was Moira doing here? Before Kienna could react, Baila was upon her. “The king demands retribution, and your life is the payment.”

Baila slashed the sword against Kienna’s neck. Kienna gasped as if the air had been taken from her. She clawed against the wound that she knew wasn’t there, but it didn’t absolve the fear. Finally, her mind thrust itself away from the vision.

Her eyes adjusted back to the dark tunnels underneath the city.

Moira backed away, panting for air.

“You okay?” Kienna asked, fighting collapse. She wanted to reach for her neck to ensure her skin remained intact but withheld, sensing Moira’s fear.

“Absolutely.” Moira swallowed hard. “It’s…a little claustrophobic down here.”

Kienna searched her face. Had Moira been in the vision? She couldn’t tell. That smile was too tight to trust. Kienna worried that asking her would only spark concern, and she didn’t want to hash it out. She wanted to fight, and if her vision indicated Baila was coming, she would take her head on.

They cleared the tunnels and stepped into the open, where the cold air smelled of salt. The beach stretched in a sweep of jagged stone and weatherworn pebbles, waves gnawing at the shore in frothing bursts. Rust-red rock jutted like broken teeth along the waterline, and the forest crouched beyond. Pines loomed dark and sharp against a leaden sky. The Captain General gestured wide, his gauntlet catching the gray light, motioning to the hollow they crawled from, barely visible beneath a tangle of brush clinging to the cliff’s base.

Petyr stood with an easy, controlled stance. Quite the opposite of anything Tristian displayed. The Captain General wore a deep maroon tunic, long and split at the back for movement. His brown trousers were tucked neatly into knee-high leather boots. His black hair and trimmed beard indicated a man well in control.

Soldiers marched along the beach collecting armor and weapons near Connak. Most were Dove Port men with wild fear in their eyes. Some of them had never seen battle, too young to have lived through the Great War that started everything.

“Where is your army?” Kienna asked Tristian.

“They’ll be here tonight,” Tristian responded.

“Don’t they need to prepare?”

Tristian squinted but smiled, nonetheless. “Trust me. My army is well prepared.”

Kienna tried not to scoff. Her nerves bounced around inside her. She almost wished the battle would start already, just to get it over with. She wanted Baila. She’d march into the desert herself to get her. Ruva appeared through the pines and into the rocky bay. Kienna calmed at the sight of her.

I hate hunting, she growled.

Kienna smiled and approached her giant wolf. You love it. You’ve simply grown lazy.

Ruva huffed and licked Kienna’s hand. They look scared.

They’re fighting because of me. I’m sure they feel it’s not fair. Kienna lay her head against Ruva’s and stared out into the sea. Asking these men and women to go to war for her mistake was selfish. How could she dare to ask? Not a single soul had magic like the Elvish, and Kienna was grateful for Tristian’s alliance. She was sure Petyr felt the same. The magic would keep them alive a lot longer.

Kienna sighed. I…shouldn’t ask them to do it.

We risk our lives either way. Ruva panted and whined. Maybe give them a choice.

Kienna closed her eyes. Petyr and Tristian were conversing over a map. The wind ruffled Tristian’s usually neat, side-swept hair into loose, unruly strands. He looked unnerved. He would lose soldiers, too. Any one of them could die. She cleared her throat and settled into Elvish formation. Her eyes sank as deep as her heart as she asked, “Do you mind if I say something?”

Tristian and Petyr looked up. The Captain General glanced at his soldiers and nodded. Kienna stood on a rock, releasing a shaky breath to clear her nerves. “I know…” She cleared her throat again, speaking louder. “I-I know Dove Port was not prepared to fight another war with…King Vaerin. I’m sorry for that.” Her heart thundered in her chest. She detested speaking in front of crowds, and her vision blurred. She inhaled, steadying herself. She scanned the crowd, landing on Connak.

He nodded for support.

“King Vaerin has sent his army to take Moira and me back to River Storm. We know that this…uh…whole thing could be avoided if…” Tears welled in Kienna’s eyes. She didn’t expect this to bother her so much, but now that she realized how many lives were in her hands, she didn’t bother fighting them. She let one fall and continued. “We don’t want to go back, but you could hand us over and avoid the whole thing.”

“To hell with that!” Ash yelled through the crowd of soldiers.

Kienna gave him a warm smile and exhaled. All the men and women looked at her, faces hardened by the looming threat. Despite the warmth in her chest from Ash’s outburst, they all knew the dire truth. Nothing would change the fact that many of them would die. Most had never seen the likes of a Vorthakai or an Umbrin.

“I wouldn’t blame you. I—” Kienna gasped as Moira held her hand. “We can’t ask you to lay down your lives for us.”

“Oi,” Fenlo cut in, voice rough as tar rope. “Not on our watch, Miss Kienna. You’ve earned your keep and your share of protection. Same as the rest of us.”