Page 86 of Bride of Ash & Dust

And we run like all the armies of the nine hells are on our tail.

I pull him back once we hit the first river crossing. He’s snorting and panting, and foamy sweat drips from beneath the saddle. He dips his head into the dark water of the river and drinks deeply. I hold my breath and listen.

Birds sing in the trees around us. The sun filters through the lacy tops of the pines that line the river, and the water sings as it dances over stone.

I don’t hear voices. Yet.

I bend down to stare at my hands. The ropes holding my wrists together are stained with blood. I’ve managed to loosen them, but the gods only know if I’ve done enough. I grit my teeth and pull against the rope.

Pain burns through my arms. I stop, panting, as my vision swims with tears.

The dull weight of the dagger on my thigh taunts me as I wiggle my right arm, then my left. I imagine pulling my dagger out with my teeth, or perhaps finding one of those elves the stories say wait in the forest to seduce young maidens.

A barking laugh slips through my lips. It sounds like a sob. My horse sighs in response as I twist my wrists back and forth. The ropes burn, cutting into my skin. Blood drips onto the saddle.

And then, finally, my left hand comes free. I bark another laugh, not a sob, as I lean forward, draping myself over the horse’s neck, threading my fingers into his thick, black mane.

“Thank you,” I sob. “Thank you.”

The horse accepts my emotional meltdown with exhausted equanimity, and I don’t think I’ve ever loved another animal as much as I love this scruffy gray gelding right now.

Once I pull myself together, I tug Zarek’s dagger from its sheath, cut my legs free, and dismount. I stand in the freezing water and stare at the early morning light as it dances across the ripples.

The soldiers will probably expect me to flee to the palace of Marion. Where else would I go, after all?

They certainly won’t expect me to backtrack to the camp, or to push on to the mine.

No, the only person who expects me to go to the mine is Anura. After she delivers the mayor of Tanic’s warning about the Vsenrog troops on the border, she’ll travel to Detec and then on to the mine.

I pull the rope off the horse’s neck and lead him upriver, away from the path. Toward the Dragon Mine.

Chapter 48

Zarek

THE DRAGON MINE

Iflicker in and out of consciousness, dimly aware of motion and the murmur of voices. Mostly aware of every single part of my body screaming in pain.

Breathing hurts, so I think at least a few of my ribs might be broken. My mouth tastes like blood, and I can’t open my left eye; my face must look delightful. I feel hot, then cold, which implies I could have a whole new round of problems to deal with if I survive long enough for an infection to make me sick.

And everything smells like a fucking horse.

My head throbs as the world shifts, up and down, up and down. One side of my face rubs up against something coarse, and my ribs spasm in pain as my weight shifts. Men laugh around me.

I close my one functional eye, then open it again. The world reels. Sun through the trees. Hooves against stone. Cold wind, and cold voices.

I’m on a horse. Or, not exactly on a horse. I’m draped over the back of a horse like a gutted deer, I think. That explains the smell. I close my good eye and try to make out the voices.

Trying to place them drags up memories. There’s the voice that drove his fist into my ribs until they cracked. There’s the voice that hit me over the back with a piece of firewood.

Lovely. I try to swallow. My spit tastes like blood.

I flirt with unconsciousness for what feels like a long time, and then the horse stops moving. I jolt fully awake as a familiar voice cuts through the cold air.

“You’ve brought him?”

Syvan. I open my one functional eye as rough hands grab my shoulders and drag me off the horse. My legs collapse when I hit the ground, but not before I see the second prince of Vsenrog astride his white stallion. His crown glints in the light of the setting sun.