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“Oh shit…” I draw an uneven breath. It catches in my chest, a searing pain. “Oh no…”
“Impossible!” Taj says. “They’d need three-four more days!”
“They said they changed horses in every town, and are galloping fast.” The innkeeper shrugs. “They were in a hurry. Said they caught a Fae-blood and wanted to get him quickly to the Summer Capital to be judged and hanged.”
I grip the pommel of the saddle until my knuckles turn white, the pain in my chest terrible. “Did you see the Fae-blood they had with them?”
“Yeah, a blind man with long white hair. They said he’s a pointy-eared bastard.” He shakes his head. “I never thought I’d see the day when the Fae would return.”
“The Fae are dead,” the lieutenant grinds out. “We saw to that. They were eradicated after the Great War.”
“And yet, the Emperor sent you out to hunt for them, didn’t he?” the innkeeper says. “My lord.”
“The blood has weakened,” the lieutenant says. “We’re only rounding up anyone who has traces of it, to avoid them rising again. It’s a curse, being a Fae, a disease. It can resurface after decades, even centuries, according to the sages. We’re making sure no Fae babies are born to keep our Empire safe.”
The innkeeper bows. “As you say.”
I glance at Taj and Kiaran and see the shock in their eyes, though they have schooled their faces to blankness.
Finnen…
Looks like we have to enter the Summer Capital after all—and we have to hurry the hell up.
Abandoning caution, we gallop toward Eremis, skirting villages and farms, the river running alongside us, busy with barges and smaller boats. Time is of the essence, now more than ever. I refuse to acknowledge the cold fear taking residence in my gut. Even the cramps in my belly have taken second place to the numbing panic gripping me.
What if we are too late?
What if we can’t save him?
We’re really close now, the walls and spires of the Summer Capital rising at the horizon, looming behind the villages and the barges, glittering and towering the nearer we get.
We push our exhausted horses throughout the day, not stopping to rest or eat. The morning drizzle turns to rain, and then in the afternoon, it stops, the wind numbing my skin.
The city rises over us, walls of silvery gray stone and turrets topped with golden caps, reflecting the dim light of the overcast skies.
Kiaran points ahead. “Serpent Gate.”
Squinting, I make out two towers and what might be the gate to the capital. “How do you know its name?”
He says nothing, his stallion snorting, and canters ahead.
With a curse, Taj nudges his horse forward, and I follow suit. “Kia!”
When we catch up with him again, I see that he’s scratching his arm, a dark frown on his face.
“What is it?” I ask.
He glares down at his arm. Rolls up the sleeve of his shirt. Something glitters there.
Scales.
“You said the Fae came from the dragons,” I whisper, glancing at Taj, finding his eyes a little wide. “And the Drakoryas… they are dragon-kin. You have scales on your back, and so does Finnen, on his thigh…”
“We are Fae-blood,” Taj says, slowing his horse down, his voice hoarse, “and we’re manifesting, one after another. You are awakening the alpha in us, sweetheart, and with it, our true nature.”
I pull on the reins. My mouth is dry. “What else do you know about the Fae and dragons, Taj? You have to share that information with us.”
“I’m afraid on that matter I know very little,” he says and turns his gaze on the Summer Capital. “You know who may know more?”
