AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It’s the barn,” I whisper.
The gate swings open with a low squeal, and I pull Phaedron into the shadows beyond. The scent of horses and hay washes over me like a healing balm; sometimes I dream of places like this. Places that feel like home. Evening light falls across the straw-strewn cobblestone floor in thick slats, turning specks of dust into floating cities of gold. I wait as my eyes adjust.
I’ve never thought much of human-raised horses. Humans seem to lack the innate capacity to care for other creatures. Their horses are functional at best, and usually little better than feral. The equine bloodlines my family breeds stretch back thousands of years, after all. How could any short-lived human breeders compete with that?
But, this barn. It’s cozy, clean, and organized, perfectly functional in a way that speaks to quiet competence. It is, I have to admit, much more than I’d expected from humans. Just like the garden. Phaedron lets out a soft hiss beside me, and I remember the look of terror on his face when I led him into King Grathgore’s barn. Smiling at the memory, I wrap my hand around his arm and lead him forward. Horses snort and swivel their ears as we pass. Hooves click against the slats of a stall, and Phaedron’s body tenses under my fingers.
We’re almost to the end of the barn when a door creaks open behind us. Phaedron freezes. There’s the click of boot heels on stone. Blood hammers through my skull. The back of my mouth tastes like metal. It could be nothing, I try to tell myself. It could be nobody—
“Leaving already?” a voice drawls.
Phaedron turns around, slowly but with every muscle in his arm pulled tight. I follow his lead like I’m on a rope.
It’s a human. He’s standing in the middle of the barn, wiping his hands on a rag and watching us. He’s the man who met us in the courtyard, the human who’d come out of the stable and then led the horse Phaedron insists on calling Edwin away. He had smiled at Phaedron.
He’s not smiling now.
My body goes cold. Because we don’t look human, of course. Phaedron dropped his illusion in our room, and I haven’t dared so much as whisper about magic. Even the smallest illusion would flare like a firework in this human inn.
But without it, we’re practically naked.
Phaedron clears his throat, and then, impossibly, he smiles.
“There’s some ears out front we’d just as soon avoid,” Phaedron says.
I stare at him, trying to make sense of his words. The man watches us with a face that might as well be carved of wood. Phaedron reaches into my bag, and there’s the subtle clink of metal muffled by leather.
“Take care of Edwin for us,” Phaedron says. “Please.”
With that, Phaedron drops my arm and steps forward. The human doesn’t move as Phaedron extends his hand, the three gold coins nestled in his palm winking in the thin light. Finally, just when I’ve started to think we’ll have to make a run for it, the human grunts, leans forward, and takes the coins from Phaedron’s palm.
“Take the door on the left,” the human says. “Go ‘till you hit the river.”
Phadron gives him an odd sort of nodding movement, something I only recognize as a human gesture after seeing him do it, and then he’s back at my side, his arm reaching for mine. I follow him, stumbling along the cobblestones until we reach the narrow door on the left. The human coughs just as Phaedron pushes the wooden latch.
“Next time you’re passing,” the human says, his voice low, as though he were talking to the horses. “This’s the Dalmatian. Ain’t no Spotted Dog.”
Phaedron grins, then touches his fingers to his forehead.
“Much obliged,” he replies.
The human dips his head in response, a gesture so subtle I think I might have just imagined it, and then the door squeaks open under Phaedron’s hand, and the dark streets of the Silver City swallow us both.
Chapter18
Phaedron
THE TOWERS
“They give tours,” I mutter under my breath.
Alindra catches my eye, and we share a smile that makes my throat feel tight despite the ugly human illusions we’re both once again wearing. The sun set over the Silver City as we made our way out of the Dalmation and toward the river, and now, the Silver City sparkles with what feels like thousands of lamps and candles and sleek, magical torches. Above it all, the moon rises in her splendor like a queen observing the joyful chaos of her glittering subjects.
Someone next to me snorts, then spits, and I pull closer to the wall. We’re in a crowd of humans clustered together at the base of a row of towers so tall and sharp they look like daggers meant to stab the sky.
Humans. I’d almost forgotten they existed. They had become a myth in the Lands Below, like horses, sunlight, and dwarves. Alindra seemed just as surprised to find humans clustered at the gates of the Towers of the Silver City. From what she’d told me as we traveled together out of the mountains and onto the vast, terrifying plains, the Keepers of the Towers were a powerful, secretive society that kept their magicians in chains. She’d rubbed her wrists as she described the Keeper who had once visited King Grathgore’s court, almost as though she were imagining manacles on her own arms.
The Keepers were also, I’d assumed, like us. Or, hells, maybe they were dragons. Maybe even dwarves. Humans had no magic; even I knew that. So why would humans line up for a tour? Why would they care at all about the Towers?
