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“Because I’m in a bad fucking mood, that’s why.”
“Why the fuck doesn’t Tristan have to deal with her? Or Raz?”
“Because they’re riding ahead to scout for Howlers and stonewraiths while we guard our backs against the Fae King’s forces.” Tavion flipped his hood up and reined his great beast into the barren forest. “Who will be here within the hour. We’d best stay ahead of them and you’re the best rider, so you get the dead weight. Sorry, my friend.”
“Just my fucking luck.” Zor cursed, and then we were flying, dead trees blurring around us. I pitched to one side and he swept his arm around my waist and crushed me to him, his armor digging in through my thin dress.
“I can’t fucking believe because I’m good at something, I have to deal withyou.” The amount of disgust he put into that last word nearly made me piss myself.
I stayed quiet.
It wasn’t like I could change his mind.
I craned my neck to get one last look at the palace towers rising high over the leafless trees, and Zor yanked me back into his lap.
“You make this trip any harder than it already is, I will tie you up and throw you over the back of my horse like a bedroll. Believe me, I’d much prefer that, over having to fucking touch you.”
23
TAVION MONTGOMERY
Even carrying the girl, Zor navigated the rocky path with ease, making the impossible look effortless, his horse galloping through rough terrain that would slow the palace guard to a crawl when they reached these foothills.
I hung back, listening for sounds of hooves or the whistle of arrows.
We were almost out of bowshot.
Almost.
The dead trees provided little cover, and Solok had special archers—Taranth archers and with their enhanced sight—who would spot us, even this far away. I didn’t breathe easy until we crossed the low wall that had once marked the original city Tempeste was built upon.
The entrances to the catacombs were carved into the side of the mountain itself, we flew past them at a breakneck speed, a series of enormous arches sealed shut with dead trees and the loam of a thousand winters.
Keeping back gave me time to sort through my jumbled feelings toward Anaria. I hated her, there was no question about that.
She’d killed Julian.
Julian, the one thing in this miserable life that made it worth living. Julian, who’d been my older brother, best friend, and mentor for over a hundred years. And that little bitch ended him, when he was trying to save her.
This whole disaster began when the Oracle gave Julian a prophecy.
A vision of the future with no despotic kings, no endless wars. A world united under one throne, with a fair and decent ruler.
Now my brother would never see the world he’d dreamed of building.
My hands tightened on the reins.
Perhaps I should reserve my anger for Solok and the Mistress’s depravity. Or the Fae King, who’d been waiting eighteen long years for Anaria to come of age so he could reclaim his magic.
Or the twisted politics of Caladrius and Solarys, the blood feud that went back further than anyone alive could remember.
Or Torin, who’d sent the babe away to Varitus in the first place, to allow her to grow strong enough to take on the Fae King and kill him.
Well, that would never happen now.
Now Anaria would be the Shadow King’s prisoner, and I wished her luck with that.
I narrowed my eyes on the sheath of white hair tumbling free of the girl’s scarf. No, it was far easier to hate the complete waste of space and air that was Anaria of Varitus than forgive her for her myriad of sins.
