Into the Glittering Dark, page 25
“Have you heard anything from Midmere? Any word about our master?”
“There wouldn’t have been time to receive anything if they did send it. But they know to expect us, and they should hopefully be at work looking for the princess in the meantime.”
If they find Cassia, they’ll find Orin.
That was what Wren wanted to believe, at least.
They rode until the sun went down. Although the weather was clear and Wren wanted to beg Faulk to let them continue, doing so would be at their own peril. The horses were tired, and his body ached from being in the saddle for so many hours. With no rain in sight, they didn’t bother with tents and instead laid their bedrolls around the fire. Their companions took turns keeping watch and had them up and moving again before dawn.
The further into the pass they ventured, the less Wren recognized it. This must’ve been the stretch of the trip he’d been unconscious. They would enter bandit territory again soon. He only hoped they weren’t holding a grudge over their failed attack last time.
Every evening when they made camp, Everis spent a few hours working on his magic and the exercises Ivy had given him before they left—specifically on his focus and control. Wren kept nearby, always with a watchful eye. He remembered watching Ever and Ivy the day before they left, and the one time he’d thought to praise Ever’s progress, Ivy had scoffed.
“This? This is practice with wooden swords in an empty training yard. The real test will come when something disrupts his calm, when he feels threatened or afraid.”
Not comforting, given the situation Wren suspected they were about to step into.
When the weather took a windy and rainy turn, it required the small convoy to erect their tents and turn in earlier than any of them cared to. None of the assassins were talkative round the campfires at night, at least not with him or Ever. They kept to themselves, speaking in hushed tones and with bowed heads. Faulk pointed out that they were a group used to working to maintain their secrets. Part of that, no doubt, meant distancing themselves from others to avoid anything slipping.
For the first time, Wren felt a flicker of a connection to them. Regardless of whether he agreed with their way of life, he realized just how committed they were to it. So much so that they forsook any family outside of the Dusk Court. They were each other’s family, and it made them all that much more determined to protect what they had. To some extent, it was like that with him and Ever, wasn’t it? He would guard the secret of Ever’s origins as carefully as he could. Would protect him with his own life if it came to that.
The following day, as they neared the site of the initial attack, Wren could sense Ever’s unrest. The sunlight had burned away most of the morning fog, but not all of it. They took their time through the pass, minding the holes to avoid anyone’s horse breaking a leg.
Faulk pushed to the head of the group, inclining his chin toward the cliffs. When he came to an abrupt halt and gave a sharp snap of his fingers, everyone stopped. In eerie synchronization, the assassins drew their masks over their noses and mouths. Beside Wren, Ever shifted, spine rigid.
From the hillside, a group emerged from the lingering fog and descended on them. Others remained atop the ridge, crossbows raised. Heart pounding, Wren reached for his sword. He grasped the hilt, but didn’t draw it yet. Faulk had made no defensive move, and Wren wanted to follow his lead. If they could get out of this without a fight, all the better.
One man, his face a mess of scars, stepped away from the armed group, favoring his left leg when he walked. Faulk removed his left glove, revealing an owl tattoo that adorned his wrist. “We’re just passing through. I believe your treaty with the Five Guilds is still in effect?”
The man sniffed, broad shoulders lifting in a shrug. “’Course, m’lord. Your people are welcome to go.” He raised a hand to point at Everis. “That one, though, he comes with us.”
Wren’s heart about climbed into his throat. “What—”
Faulk silenced him with a stern look before turning back to the bandit. “Not a request I will grant. We’re escorting these two, which means they’re under our protection.”
“Wasn’t a request. That fuckin’ demon slaughtered a buncha my people,” the man sneered. “He ain’t human, nor is he worth protectin’.”
“If it’s a rematch you want, I would be happy to oblige,” Ever growled, drawing his sword.
Wren placed a hand on his arm, a silent plea to wait.
“To my understanding, you attacked their camp while they slept,” Faulk drawled, unperturbed. “They acted in self-defense.”
“Don’t matter. No one with that sort of power ought to be walking about.” The man’s eyes burned into Ever, brimming with contempt. “Take the other bloke if you want, but if you’d seen what we saw, you wouldn’t be so quick to defend this one.”
“We’ve defended worse.” Faulk swung down from his saddle. He strode over to the bandit, who towered over him by a good foot and outweighed him by an easy ten stone. And yet, Faulk still managed to look down his nose at him. “Your opinion of my charges is irrelevant. You’ve made an agreement with the Guilds. Am I to understand you wish to break that contract?”
The end of his sentence was punctuated by each assassin drawing their blades in unison, so in sync that the sound of steel against sheathes made a single unsettling sound. Wren looked around =. Every assassin had their eyes locked onto somewhere different: the bandits before them, the ones on the hillside… They were silent, still, poised. Dangerous. He’d never been more grateful that the Dusk Court was on his side.
The bandit leader’s fierceness faltered. He glanced between Faulk and Ever and back again, weighing his options. The bandits outnumbered them by a lot. Was Faulk talking big, or could this small group take on the two dozen bandits surrounding them?
Finally, the man licked his chapped lips and stepped slowly to one side. “’Course not. Wouldn’t dream of breaking a treaty with the Guilds.”
Faulk gave the curtest of nods. There was no smugness in his actions, no air of superiority as he strode back to his horse and swung into the saddle. Wren tried to remember how to breathe as the bandits cleared their path. Beside him, the tension eased from Ever’s shoulders. They rode past without another word.
When he was convinced the bandits were well out of earshot, Wren drew his horse up alongside Faulk’s. “Who are the Five Guilds?”
“Hm?”
“The Dusk Court is one, obviously. Who are the others?”
Faulk gave him a sidelong look, somewhere between amused and exasperated. “Aren’t you privy to enough information that you shouldn’t be, magi?”
“Perhaps, but if you were to find out there was some secret guild you’d never heard of, wouldn’t you want to know more about it?”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t expect them to spill their secrets just because I asked nicely.”
Wren grinned. “Have you ever asked nicely for anything?”
“An assassin asking nicely is probably accompanied by a knife to someone’s throat or prying off their fingernails or something,” Everis muttered from his other side.
Wren shot him a look and opened his mouth to chastise him, but Faulk gave a short laugh.
“He’s not wrong,” he said before flicking his reins and trotting on ahead.
40
EVERIS
On the other side of the mountains, they stopped at the same inn in Blackpool they’d stayed in on the way to Patish, though their numbers were significantly fewer this time. Rather than retreat upstairs, Everis and Wren stuck with their companions for supper, soaking in the warmth of a fire and a good mead and a hot meal.
Everis still found it tricky to get a read on the assassins in their company. Something about Faulk ruffled his feathers, though he’d grudgingly admit he didn’t mind the man as much as he minded that Faulk seemed so familiar with Wren.
There was Stryder, a lean, steely-eyed woman nearly as tall as he was, who looked as though she could’ve flattened any of the men in her company with little effort. Yet she spoke warmly and had offered him some sweets she’d brought along on the trip, so he couldn’t help but like her.
Sitting off on their own were a pair of red-haired twins named Sevin and Vesir. Everis couldn’t tell them apart, not that he really needed to. Neither of the women had spoken a word to him or Wren the entire journey.
Elias was wiry and small, with olive skin and dark eyes. He was loud with a habit of singing by the campfire—something he thankfully didn’t do there in the tavern, lest he draw attention to them.
Jade was the last to make up their group. He was polite, smiled easily, was strikingly handsome with his long, dark braided hair and gray eyes, and yet he had an unsettling aura about him that made Everis feel about three inches tall whenever the man addressed him.
It was Elias, Jade, and Stryder who sat across from him and Wren at the table over supper, with Faulk seated on Wren’s other side. Conversation stayed light and focused on topics that were of little importance. A precaution, Everis imagined, just in case anyone happened to be eavesdropping.
He was halfway through his meal when Wren froze beside him, and the fear spreading from him immediately made Everis drop his spoon. Before he could look up, Wren had grabbed his thigh beneath the table and dug his fingers in, bruisingly tight. Everis winced, stole a glance askance, and mimicked what Wren was doing… keeping his head down and trying to focus on his meal as though nothing were amiss. But when he turned his gaze toward the window on his left, he spotted several armored men on horses bearing the sigil of House Starling.
Royal soldiers… all the way up here?
“Keep eating,” Faulk’s low voice rumbled. “Don’t acknowledge them.”
The door to the inn swung open, and two of the soldiers entered, squinting and swinging their gazes about the half-filled tavern. One soldier strode to the bar, leaning on it and addressing the innkeeper in a voice intentionally loud enough to be heard over the din of the room.
“We’re here on behalf of Queen Danica of Midmere,” he announced. Then he turned back to look at the rest of the tavern, given that he now had their attention. “For those of you who haven’t heard the news, our king is dead, and a group of rogue magi have bewitched and kidnapped Princess Cassia. The queen will pay a handsome reward for any information as to the whereabouts of her daughter.”
“Bewitched?” Everis whispered.
Wren’s brow furrowed.
The soldier continued, “We believe the princess is in the company of magi Imaryllis Leif and magi Rue Brevil, although others may be with them whom we are unaware of at this time.”
Everis and Wren exchanged anxious looks. Everis bit his tongue, trying not to speak up, to ask questions. The soldier rattled off brief descriptions of Imaryllis and Rue, informed the tavern patrons that they would be available all night should anyone wish to report anything, then took his leave back outside, likely to tend to his men and horses.
The moment he was gone, conversation within the pub picked up again, this time with a charged energy behind it, full of gossip and questions no one had answers for. Everis didn’t dare try to discuss anything, not until Faulk gave a sign it was safe for them to step away from the table and their abandoned meals to slip upstairs.
With the door shut behind and away from prying ears, Wren whirled to face him, grasping his arms. “Cassia escaped the capitol.”
“With Lady Imaryllis and Rue…”
“But no mention of Master Orin.” A troubled crease returned to Wren’s brow. He drew back, brimming with anxiety that had him pacing the small room. “Why would they leave him out?”
Everis tried to grasp for a comforting answer and came up with nothing good. “Maybe… Maybe they forgot? Maybe they were instructed not to say anything about him?”
“To what purpose? Unless they wanted to ensure it lured us back to Midmere rather than searching for Cassia’s group.” Wren paused, looking very much like he wanted to latch on to that theory but was having difficulty doing so. He turned back to Everis, their eyes meeting. “You don’t think that’s the case, though, do you?”
“No,” he softly admitted. “I think if we were even on their minds, they’d have sent the news to Patish quickly, not had soldiers announcing it in random inns on the off-chance word might float back to us.”
Oh, he hated the way Wren’s expression fell. Neither of them wanted to think of the alternative, that Master Orin was trapped within the city limits. Or worse, that he was being held prisoner under Danica’s watch.
Everis stepped closer, drawing Wren’s face into his hands. “What is it he always tells us? Not to dwell on the unknown, but to anticipate it and plan accordingly.”
Wren swallowed hard. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. I shouldn’t get all worked up. Lady Imaryllis is out there somewhere. She’ll know what his plans are and what we should do.”
“Any thoughts on how we do that? The whole finding her bit, that is.”
“No. Faulk might, though.”
Everis refrained from rolling his eyes. To say that his prickliness over Faulk’s friendship with Wren was entirely gone would be inaccurate, but he’d settled a bit during their travels. Besides, this was too important to be soured over. If Faulk had the means of helping them reunite with their companions and, more crucially, their Master, Everis would get on his knees and grovel for Faulk’s help if he had to. “Then we’ll ask him.”
Wren cracked a meager smile. “It’s odd…”
“What is?”
“You, being the rational and comforting one.”
It was meant as a compliment, but it stung Everis with a bit of shame and made him avert his gaze. Their situations were normally reversed, weren’t they? With Wren being the logical, even-keeled one who didn’t allow his emotions to get the best of him for long. Always roping Everis in when his temper flared. He’d seen Wren get angry before, but in moments when it mattered, he was the one that others looked to and counted on when Orin wasn’t there. It wasn’t fair to put that on him, especially not now when they both needed to be strong for one another. Wren being afraid was unfamiliar territory, but then again, it concerned Master Orin, so perhaps it wasn’t so out of place.
“Is it an unwelcome change?” Everis asked, attempting to keep his tone light.
Wren touched his jaw, coaxing Ever to meet his gaze. “No. I thought it was quite sweet, actually. Thank you. You know that I wouldn’t have been able to do this trip without you.”
Everis’s cheeks warmed, and he prayed it wasn’t visible in the dim lighting. What did he say to that? Thank you? Or You’re welcome?
He didn’t end up needing to say anything as Wren leaned up to press a warm kiss to Ever’s mouth. It didn’t last nearly long enough before a brief knock sounded at their door. Just two sharp raps that, somehow, Ever knew belonged to Faulk because they were as curt and to the point as the man himself. He leaned to unlock the door and open it so that the assassin could step inside.
Faulk regarded them with a characteristically unreadable expression. “Guards are staying overnight. They’ve started questioning people directly. I suggest killing the lights and ignoring them if they come knocking.”
“Won’t that draw suspicion?” Wren asked.
“Perhaps, but it’s safer than allowing them a proper look at your faces.”
Everis hadn’t recognized any of the soldiers, but that didn’t mean anything. There were hundreds of them back home, coming in and out of training. The ones he knew by name all worked within the castle walls—people he saw and interacted with, at least occasionally. Yet he knew from experience that the guards often recognized the magi. They stood out more; there were fewer of them. Plenty of people knew of Orin’s two apprentices, and it would’ve been smart on Danica’s part to have told them to keep an eye out if she suspected they were headed back from Patish.
“Do you think they were telling the truth about Cassia escaping the city?” Everis asked Faulk.
“Don’t see what incentive they’d have to lie about it, really.”
“Then do your people know where they are?”
“Oh, absolutely. We have an Owl positioned across every village and city on the continent who keeps track of the comings and goings of everyone.”
Everis paused. “Really?”
Faulk deadpanned. “No.”
“Oh.”
“Look, the information we got today was news to us, too. Anything that’s happened since we left Patish? It’s as much a mystery to me as it is to you.” He surveyed the crestfallen looks on their faces and sighed. “The twins have already set off on the main road. If the princess is smart, she’ll head to her uncle. It’s the only safe place for her right now. There are two ways they could have gone: by sea or through the mountains. If they wanted to go unrecognized, they wouldn’t have risked a boat where a crew member might get a wild idea about ransoming her off to Danica.”
Everis stared at Faulk, somewhere between impressed and annoyed. The precision and depth with which the assassin thought things through were worthy of admiration, but he also kind of wanted to hit him for it.
“If we wait here, we might run into them,” Wren said softly.
“They’d be hard to miss, yes,” Faulk agreed. “But those guards may have the same thought. Patrol the roads close to the pass, wait for them to inevitably make a run for it…”
Everis watched Wren from his periphery, the worried lines on his face twisting in frustration. He moved to the window to glance outside. Only barely could he spot two of the soldiers milling about near the corner of the building, scanning the horizon. “Do we know how many there are?”
Faulk folded his arms. “I’ve counted eight horses, but likely more if they have people out patrolling.”
Everis inclined his chin. Images from the bandit attack flickered to the forefront of his memory. How many had there been? Twenty? Thirty? They’d beaten them back with a modest group of soldiers, even when surprised in the dead of night. Now, they had two magi and a crew of highly skilled and lethal assassins. They could pick off the soldiers one at a time after the sun went down.
