Page 27

Kit took a step back, his glare focused on my hand in my hair. “You should be grateful that I…” The phoenix circled, his eyes glazed, then he said, “He’s coming.”

Panic gripped me. “Who? Let me out!” My hands circled the freezing bars, and I put all my weight behind trying to break them, but the flimsy-looking metal was spelled. Of course it was.

“Can’t do that.” His dark eyes locked with mine. “Everyone on the ground thinks the Old War was the worst it could get. But that was just between the kingdoms… Now, the gods in the Other are getting restless. They don’t like to be forgotten. This is me keeping my bargain with Morlan—you’re lucky to have such a powerful witch on your side.”

“You expect me to thank you…” Rage rippled through me, my shoulder heated, and I ripped myself away from the door. “I’ll kill you.” But I didn’t reach for my dagger; I breathed deeply and stilled my mind and body. Emotions wouldn’t help me in this. I needed the cold, calm clarity of a Shadow.

“If the Barren Riders catch you, they will throw you in the Northlands prison for questioning first. It’s what they do with rebels. It’s no place for a girl… and Torran is…”

The Betrayer. A monster. Interrogator.

Soft, fresh snow swept into the austere cage as trees shuddered with the breeze. The sight built a lump in my throat. It had been a long time since I had seen such an abundance of life, even if it were covered in glistening snow. The heat from the Barren mines meant that snow rarely settled on the Barren’s earth, and nothing had grown since the war. I crawled forward, my numb fingers scratching on the wooden planks, my arms shaking until I reached the barred door.

He tapped the side of the cage with a finger. “If I were you, I’d be standing when they arrive… and keep all your nasty, stabby little weapons to yourself.” His jet-black hair seemed even more striking in this whitewashed world. He zoned in on the east.

I gripped the bars and grinned. “Scared of me, oh powerful rider, because you couldn’t disarm me?”

His eyes sharpened, and his irises flickered with flames as he inched closer. “I caught you… threw you in there. Fear has nothing to do with it.”

“Your friend might disagree.” My breath fogged out in front of me.

The tall, snow-covered trees had icy vines hanging off them that were so thick they could be used as rope. In the distance was the sound of running water, perhaps from a waterfall or a river. The snow held a different kind of quiet, and it was one I wasn’t used to. Ruckus was one big, beautiful forest full of enormous animals that would hunt a human for fun. The unclaimed phoenixes favoured this land, and the Ruckus’s Celtic warriors never flew—or so said the stories I’d read in the library. Just like in the Wilds, the people here lived in caves, though in the Ruckus they were built into a cliff-face and only accessible with ropes.

“Oh, my friend is livid. You…” A twig snapped from beyond the trees, interrupting him. He crouched in the snow and placed his lips close to the bars. “Hold your ground with this lot. You may not trust me or any Rider after we took you to the Barren—” I glared at him and opened my mouth, but he shook his head. “This isn’t better than the Wilds, but it’s not Craven City either. You have what they want, so make sure you trade it for a high price.”

His eyes darkened. “There was no winner in the war that felled your kingdom, and every man who played their part had to unleash the darkest part of themselves to protect those they loved.” He blinked slowly and tugged at his gloves. His expression faltered for a heartbeat before he composed himself. Regret? Guilt? I didn’t know and I didn’t want to care.

I tilted my chin so that our gazes locked. Was there still a portion of humanity in him? Was he still the carefree man I had met all those years ago, who loved to wrestle with my brother and prank anyone who was near?

But then I remembered what he had done, and rage overran my nostalgia. “Did you protect everyone you loved?” I meant my brother. “How many of our Riders did you shoot down?” When he gave the briefest of shakes, I glared at him. “What! You believe you’re better than the Barren guards who did, because you stood by while others fired the arrows? You may not have drawn the arrow, but in doing nothing you still damned all those innocent people who died because we no longer had Riders to protect us.”

Kit gripped the bars, about to retaliate, when footsteps crunched on the snow behind me.

“What do you want?” a man called from behind me.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Kit’s gloved hands left the bars, and one tried to tame his unruly hair. “Anyone else found you in the desert, you’d be burned for murder.”

There was so much I wanted to scream at him, but the crunch of snow behind me told me we had company. I didn’t trust Kit, but he had held power over me twice now and had never handed me over to the Barren. “Why is the anklet so important…”

“You ever speak of that again, and I’ll call Draga of the Barren to come and get you himself.”

It was the perfect threat. Draga was the prince of the Barren Lands, a Rider and one of the Elite Tracker Flock. He was part of the same flock as Kit. So why wasn’t Draga here already? It meant that there were secrets amongst the Elite Tracker Flock, and we were told that flocks were fated groupings. They were the embodiment of harmony.

But his eyes glazed, and his chin tilted skyward. When his attention returned to me, something in his expression had shifted. “The Ruckus is dangerous; just because they are taking in Annatalians doesn’t mean they’re your allies.”

The phoenix’s squawk high above told me he was leaving. The multicoloured bird swooped down, and Kit reached up to catch the steering pole beneath its chest. In one fluid movement, he swung upwards and placed his legs in the pouch—it was only when we were this close that I could see the ropes of fire magic tethering him to his monster.

I patted my bag as I watched him fly away, and I wondered why he had never demanded I hand it over.

“Who are you?” called a man.

Dropping my head onto my knees for a moment to compose myself, I gritted my teeth and then slowly lifted my gaze. An innocent, sweet smile on my face.

13

The cage had unlocked all by itself, and a Celtic warrior stood before me. He was tall and broad, with a thick, long beard that had runes beaded into it. Probably in his fifties, and the scars on his face told me he’d fought in the kingdom’s war. Beyond the treeline, a horse whinnied.

“You come out, lass. Make no trouble, or we’ll make this difficult.” He tilted his head and found what he was looking for on my ear. “No one’ll hurt you here, but there are precautions we need to take.” From his fur-lined cloak, he pulled out a black bag. “Nun of yous get to see in. Put this over your head. Thems the rules.”