CHAPTER TWELVE

By the time they reached the outskirts of Sicaria’s Veil, the sun had risen. It had been a necessary risk to drive the horses at a gallop before full light, and only luck had kept either from breaking an ankle or a leg. All Shade could do was cling to the pommel of the saddle and pray to the Four and the Hidden she wouldn’t fall. Every leap and stumble of the beast set her teeth to chattering. She was battered and her head ached, and she’d left her friends behind to die…

She would have forced Angelo to turn the wretched beast around and return to Dante’s villa if the thunder of hooves and the wind in her face had allowed for conversation. Instead, she let them carry her farther into the Wastes, farther away from Cyril and the boys, from Raiden, from Dante, too weary and hurt to prevent it. As the sun rose, and neither man showed signs of stopping, she felt herself slipping…

Beneath her, the horse huffed laboriously, and began to slow. Dropping from a gallop into a quick trot was jarring. A small whimper emerged from her, and she felt Angelo’s arm tighten. The horse, thankfully, slowed to a walk.

“I’ve got you, my lady,” Angelo said. His voice was hoarse with fatigue, but full of kindness. Shade fought the urge to weep.

“We can’t stop yet,” added another in a vaguely familiar voice. She turned her head to find Matteo riding beside them. For once, the dark-haired man didn’t flash her a grin when she looked at him. His sharp-jawed face was grim and pale.

“I know. But soon. She’s about to collapse.”

Matteo frowned at her. “We’ll make for the Redstone Spring.” He looked ahead, his broad-brimmed hat shading his features. “And pray to the Faces no one’s following us.”

“No, we have to go back,” Shade insisted. Or tried to. She could barely speak above a whisper, and her companions ignored her. They kept going, and the swaying gait of the wretched horse lulled Shade into a doze.

The pounding in her head had receded to a dull ache, and her mouth was dry as dust when Angelo finally pulled the beast to a halt. When her feet touched the ground, she collapsed in a heap.

“We have to go back,” she said to Angelo as he knelt to check on her. She grabbed his arm, half-rising. “That priest will kill him!”

Grim-faced, Angelo shook his head. Behind him, Matteo was busy leading the horses to the tiny pool of water hidden in the cluster of red rocks. He spoke in low, soothing tones to the nervous, weary creatures. Shade wanted to scream at him to mount up and ride, but the thought of climbing atop a horse again made her knees give out. She slumped in defeat.

“He’s strong, and important. They won’t kill him. We need to look to ourselves now. Or at least until we meet up with Prince Safire.”

Shade scrubbed a hand over her face. Dried blood flaked off and stained her fingers. She stared at it, her vision blurring. So much blood. She’d never had a head wound before now. Her wards couldn’t close this cut.

Frowning, Angelo pushed her hair aside to look at her wound. Too tired to protest, she sat meekly and let him probe the gash.

“If Dante managed to escape,” she said dully. “He stayed behind to fight. Like Raiden. Like I should have done…”

“The prince did what he thought was best.”

Angelo took a kerchief from his belt and dampened it with his waterskin. At least one of them had been smart enough to bring a few supplies. Shade had nothing but a thin shift and a tattered robe to her name. No, she had her blades. Seeking comfort, she grasped their bone handles while Angelo cleaned her wound. Beside her right blade hung a leather belt pouch. She had the cornerstones, too. All was not lost. But her vision of a new Veil rising above a wide valley seemed as distant as the moon.

She winced as he pressed the cloth into the gash. “Do you think it was for the best?” she asked him quietly. “Saving me?”

“He cares for you a great deal,” Angelo said, which was no answer at all. Avoiding her gaze, he busied himself with his task and Shade fell silent, wondering herself if Dante had made the right choice.

One of the horses whinnied suddenly, and there was a scuffle by the spring as both beasts jostled each other. Angelo handed Shade the damp cloth and rose to help his brother, reaching for a topaz blade in case there was danger. Matteo had pulled the animals away from the spring and was stroking one lathered horse on the nose. Both beasts’ eyes were showing white.

“What is it?” Angelo asked. “What’s spooked them?”

The younger brother turned a stricken gaze toward them. “The water… it’s no good.”

Angelo stopped, his back and shoulders stiff with shock. “What?”

“That’s impossible,” Shade said, rising to her feet. Her legs felt better, still stiff but stronger.

“Come see for yourself,” Matteo said. “The spring is stagnant. I–I’ve never seen anything like it. Not here, not along a qaraz.”

He was right. A layer of scum covered the pool, and the water itself was black as tar. Shade dropped to her knees beside the spring. She knew this spring; she’d stopped here more times than she could count. Fresh water was rare and precious in the Wastes, but it was always drinkable. It was always clean. She stared at the fouled pond, confused and disturbed.

“This is not possible.” She stretched out a hand and brushed her fingers across the surface. The layer of scum moved and swirled like oil beneath her fingertips. The foulness clung to her. It burned slightly. She rubbed her fingers on her robe in disgust.

“We have to find water,” Matteo said. “The horses won’t last much longer without it.”

She nodded, standing on her sore legs. Faces, she hated traveling by horseback.

“Shade, we’ll have to leave here and go a little farther,” Angelo said. He was already checking the cinch on his saddle. “It will be rough, traveling this time of day. But we have no choice.”

Shade drew a blade and stepped away from the befouled spring. The tumble of rocks enclosed a smooth stretch of sandy earth, a few small shrubs and tufts of grass existing in its shelter. She kept to the shade, near a looming rock wall. “If we leave this place, the horses will die.”

“They’ll die here without water,” Matteo snapped. “I’d rather take the chance and move on!”

Shade gave him a sidelong glance. His face was scrunched with anger, and not a little fear. It had rattled her, too, finding a ruined spring, but she knew what to do. She raised her blade and sliced the back of her arm, letting her blood drip to the cracked earth. Where it landed, light erupted.

Matteo’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “You can touch the Hidden Face,” he said, sounding strangled.

“Of course I can. And with it, I can touch the qaraz.” She felt the magic swell within her; her senses expanded, deepened. Focusing on the stream of magic beneath her feet, she sent Spirit down.

There was a dissonance in the qaraz. It made her bones hurt. It took her a moment to recognize it – the blight. She shuddered. Somehow, the blight which infected the Wastes had entered this qaraz. Impossible. Calling more Spirit, she delved deeper. She no longer saw the earth and rocks around her, rather she saw a gleaming stream of ancient magic. A thin film of blackness overlay the bright light of the qaraz. With spectral hands, she swept it up like dust from a smooth wood floor, gathering it into a pile. She couldn’t pick up all of it – small flecks remained. But for now, it was the best she could do. For now, the qaraz ran nearly clean again.

Releasing a deep breath, Shade rose from the magic. She was shaking as she surfaced. It hadn’t cost her much blood, but Spirit always drained a wizard. Her two companions were staring at her, agape. The horses had grown calm – one of the beasts let out a soft whicker as if it sensed what she’d done. “Let them drink,” she said. “The water is safe now.”

“How?” Angelo asked, letting his brother tend the horses. “How did you do it?”

Sheathing her blade, Shade hid the trembling in her limbs. “I learned a few tricks among the Golondrina. They watch over the qaraz, you see, and keep it free of the blight. They have a knack for it. I can’t do all the things they can, but if you can touch the Hidden, you can affect the qaraz.”

He shook his head. “If you can touch the Hidden,” he repeated in chagrin. He put a hand over his heart. “Forgive me, my lady, I never believed you were a true bloodwizard. I–I am ashamed of my doubts.”

“Don’t worry about it. You were right: I’m not a true wizard.” Confusion wrinkled his brow and she grinned. “I’m a witch.”

By the time they’d rested and recovered somewhat, a cloud of red dust had appeared on the horizon. Cursing, Matteo rushed to ready the horses for flight, but Angelo watched the growing cloud with resignation on his face. Heart sinking, Shade stood beside him. The horses had rested, but they were worn and listless after the wild gallop from Dante’s villa. They couldn’t outrun a herd of goats much less determined pursuers. The rocks might protect them for a time, but the three of them were as weary as the horses and in no shape for a prolonged fight.

“If you take one of the horses,” Angelo said softly. “You could run while we hold them at bay. When Lord Safire says go to the Wastes, he means for us to go to Enrice Veil. It’s to the southwest, at the edge of the Deep Wastes and near the Razor Ridge mountains. He will be waiting for us in Enrice Veil, hiding in a little village just inside the southern edge of the Veil. You can make it on your own, I’m sure of it.”

“I won’t let you two be martyrs for me,” she muttered angrily, gripping her knife hilts. She turned on him with a scowl. “I’m stronger than both of you together, Topaz wielder. Maybe you should run?”

Angelo scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Please, lady witch. Lord Safire would never forgive us if we let anything happen to you.”

“Then fight with me.” She yanked her blades free, forcing herself to stand straight, to appear strong. “I am the Black Witch.” She let her mouth quirk. “I’ll protect you.”

Humor danced in his light eyes, and he drew his own blades. “It would be an honor,” he said. Then he turned and called to his brother. “Matteo, leave the horses hobbled. We won’t be running anymore. Not today.”

His order was unnecessary. Matteo had already abandoned the animals, and was walking toward them, blades drawn. He gave Shade a wink and flashed a smile. There wasn’t a trace of fear in his blue-green eyes. “Never did like to run.”

By now, the cloud had coalesced into riders. Several riders. The three stood together, shoulder-to-shoulder, facing their enemies as one. A peace settled over Shade. Unexpected, but welcome. It reminded her of the time she’d fought beside Raiden against the beasts of the Wastes. There was a rightness to it.

The riders thundered near, and against the red wash of the Wastes shone flashes of blue. Angelo cried out in triumph, thrusting a fist toward the sky. Beside her, Matteo began to laugh, but Shade could only stare. The men racing toward them on horseback wore Safire blue, and leading them was a bearded man with a gash on the side of his face, his fine clothes ash-stained and tattered. The gash down his face was raw and ugly, and he looked like he’d walked through the lowest hells. Blood streaked his torn silk shirt in a broad fan.

Dante Safire rode his horse to within a few feet of them, reining in the beast so hard it went on its heels. He leapt off its back in a cloud of dust and sand and strode to Shade, his eyes locked on her. Trembling, she sheathed her blades, her shock and relief exposing her deep exhaustion, and braced herself for a tirade. She’d brought destruction on his house. Would he ever forgive her?

But when she met his bright, cobalt eyes, joy shone from their depths, joy and relief. Not anger, not blame. She opened her mouth to speak, and he grabbed her around the waist, pulled her to him, and kissed her hard on the mouth. Her exhaustion burned away in a sudden rush of fire. It roared up from her belly and filled her heart to bursting. Heedless of the eyes on them, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and returned his kiss with all the strength left in her.

Great heaving shudders racked him, his arms tightening to the point of pain. She tasted salt on his lips, and realized he was weeping. She broke their kiss and buried her face in the crook of his neck. “Why, my dear, sweet prince,” she said, her lips pressed to his skin. “I never knew how much you cared.”

He squeezed her until she could barely breathe. “Neither did I, my dear, sweet witch. Neither did I.”