AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Stavros lets out a disbelieving grunt. “That little mouse couldn’t defend you from a fly. Are you really so overworked? I thought you were looking forward to today’s expedition.”
I make a face at him, but I honestly can’t complain.
Yes, I’ve spent the past two days constantly on edge that my magic will flare up and spark Stavros’s suspicions. But the truth is that the former general’s presence has scared off all of the enemies I’ve made here.
We’ve been eating early or late, and I’ve mostly been trotting at his heels from responsibility to responsibility, so my path hasn’t crossed with Anya or Romild much. But even when it has, the sight of him looming nearby has kept their mouths shut and their hands to themselves.
So far, no more assaults has meant no more flailing deadly magic tearing up my insides. I can thank him for that, as much as I’d prefer not to.
And I’ve been counting down the hours to our trip today.
“How long a ride should it be?” I ask without deigning to address his comments.
“No more than two hours if we set a good pace. Mostly flat country roads, nothing too onerous. I hope you’re up to that.”
The glint of challenge in his eyes addsThiefto the end of the last sentence even if he didn’t say it out loud.
“Sounds like a walk in the park,” I declare, even though I haven’t ridden outside of the city in nearly ten years.
Just to prove how little concerned I am, when we reach the stable I walk straight to Toast’s stall.
Stavros lets out a guffaw when he sees where I’m going. “You’re not serious.”
“We’ve made friends. Haven’t we, Toast?” I reach to scratch the stallion’s jaw, and he does actually lift his head for me without hesitation this time. “He should set a good pace, I’d think.”
“He’ll do that,” Stavros drawls. “Whether it’ll be in the direction you want to go…”
“Let me worry about that.”
Toast makes a show of shaking his mane and stomping his hooves as I lead him into the yard, but he doesn’t put up too intense a fuss. How often does he get taken out at all by anyone other than reluctant stable hands ensuring he gets the minimum of exercise and idiot noblemen proving their bravado?
Sometimes kindness is the way to go. If he scares me off too much, he knows he’ll be stuck with just those louts again.
Naturally, Stavros has a stallion of his own, an immense ruddy chestnut that looks picked to match both his size and his hair. His current prosthetic—a narrower hooked loop of metal with a thumb-like protrusion on one side, which I guess must be designed for riding—snags around the reins easily so he can lead the animal to the gate.
His mount falls into step with him with perfect coordination. Beside me, Toast kicks up his heels with a rebellious snort.
Traitor.
Beyond the college walls, Stavros swings into the saddle as easily as dropping into a chair. Toast sidesteps when I reach for the saddle, leaving me hopping for balance, but I get a good grip on his mane at his shoulders and heave myself up regardless.
“I’m fine,” I say to Stavros’s raised eyebrow.
To my immense gratitude, Toast does mostly behave on our way out of the city. We circle around the college grounds through the inner wards, cross the river over the longest bridge, and have only a short trek through the outer neighborhoods before we can pass through the gate nearly due north of the city.
Stavros flashes a seal imprinted on a leather token at the guards there, and they motion us through without comment. We pass a line of merchant wagons and carts hauling farm produce and then find ourselves with open road ahead of us.
The former general studies it with occasional twitches of his head where his gaze lingers. I can’t see anything but wild fields and neater farmland on either side of us.
Far ahead, a dark smudge of forest shadows the horizon. The early morning sun warms my hair through the scattering of fluffy white clouds.
Not even the tang of manure from the nearest farm can diminish the freshness of the air away from the city streets. I drink in a big gulp of it and start asking the questions I haven’t risked while we were within the college’s walls. “Where do your colleagues think we’re going?”
“I mentioned that I’d heard of an excellent smith out this way who King Konram might want to bring on for arming our forces. Sadly, we’re going to discover that he’s off on a pilgrimage of his own.” Stavros shoots a cocky grin at me.
“Very convenient,” I agree, and adjust my grip on the reins. I’ve been waiting for us to take this step in our investigation, but that hasn’t stopped a knot of anxiety from forming in my gut. “And the temple where we’re actually going is devoted to Inganne?”
Stavros nods. “I suspect there’ll be plenty of music and frivolity if you didn’t get your fill of dancing at our interrupted ball.”
