Page 28

Heat pressed briefly against her side. Too close. Her pulse reacted immediately.

He crouched, bracing a hand against her boot. “On three,” he said.

“I—”

“One.”

She barely had time to breathe before he lifted, in total control, the strength in his arms evident beneath the fabric of his coat. One moment she stood on the ground; the next, he'd got her into the saddle.

The mare huffed but settled beneath her. Idonea’s breath came sharp as she glared down at him, cheeks flushed. “I said—”

“I know what you said,” Lysander interrupted, voice muted but edged. He stepped back, brushing a stray bit of hay from his sleeve. “You’re welcome.”

She bent forward to stroke the mare’s neck, breathing in the scent: sagebrush, clean sweat, and wind. Lysander patted the mare on the left shoulder and walked back to his gelding, hoisting himself up in one fluid motion — of course he could do that.

“Time to move,” Alcaeus said. “Remember, one week. Nexis activity will only worsen.”

He was leaving too, but going directly to Krylovan, a village in the northern reaches of the Zorya region. A village he claimed to preside over.

Lysander urged his gelding forward until he drew level with her mare. Without asking, he reached for the reins, steadying her horse’s head.

“Try and relax.” His voice even, low. “If she smells fear, she’ll take advantage. Breathe slow. Deeper.”

Idonea bit back a retort. The mare’s ears flicked but settled, soothed by Lysander’s voice. Idonea glanced at the nearby oak trees and spotted Lance; there was comfort in that notion. Her eyes strayed to Nellith’s ring on her finger.

“Relax your hips,” Lysander murmured, not looking at her.

She peeked back at the capital. The only thing that stuck above the massive walls were the white tower points of the Temple of Radiant Dawn. The mare’s gait smoothed, but she hated that his advice helped.

“I should lead,” Idonea said.

“We need distance first.”

The capital shrank behind them as they held to the compacted dirt path that ran close to the forestry of oak and beech, and Idonea watched it diminish over her shoulder. Cold air striped the last industrial stink from her lungs. The mountains ahead looked large enough to swallow people whole. For the first time since leaving Draugaros, escape felt possible.

“Can you switch to a trot?” Lysander asked.

She hesitated. “I’ll be fine.”

He studied her momentarily before flicking the reins of his gelding and her mare once. As his horse picked up pace, so did the mare. Each bump from the gait tensed her muscles.

“Tensing makes it worse,” Lysander said. “Keep your legs loose. Let your body move with the motion.”

Idonea observed the way his body rose and fell along with his horse. Wind dragged loose strands of hair across his forehead. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the saddle horn tight, fearing she’d bounce right off. Lysander’s lips quirked up into a sly smile. Idonea forced herself to focus on the horse's gait instead of the shape of Lysander's mouth. A humiliating sentence to exist inside her own head.

By the time the sun dipped behind the trees, they veered off-trail and found a clearing near a bent, old oak. Oranges bled into slate blues, rays slicing through the thin clouds. Every muscle throbbed, and her thighs were raw. She hated they had wasted a whole day.

Lysander dismounted in one smooth motion, then turned towards her.

She bristled. “I don’t need—”

Before she could finish, his hands were at her waist, steady and sure. He lifted her down easily. Their faces were close, too close. Idonea hated how quickly exhaustion made her body cooperative.

Then he stepped back, quick, impersonal. “You all right?” he asked, voice gruff.

She nodded, though her legs shook beneath her. “I think so.”

Lysander gave a curt nod and turned away, leading both horses to the oak. Its branches were stout, with many twists in them, and from where she stood, she made out the deep vertical and horizontal fissures in the bark. Rusty-brown buds clustered at the end of each twig.