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Daindreth
Daindreth kept his horse to the right and a little behind Amira’s mare to guard her injured side. He kept his sword loose in its sheath and his eyes on the dark streets, never focusing in one place, letting his peripheral vision watch for movement.
Every fiber of him crackled with nervous energy. He could practically feel the Kadra’han breathing down his neck.
In the rush of their escape, he hadn’t thought of his own safety, just getting Amira out of there and getting away. Now, in the eerie stillness of the street, his mind turned to other things. He remembered the rage of Caa Iss and the steaming, smoldering anger of the demon raging through his head.
He remembered being strapped down and bound to that silver chair, the voices of his mother and Darrigan and the others coaxing and drawing that demon up like a water snake from the depths.
Worst of all, he remembered Caa Iss grinning at Amira with his teeth, threatening her, promising the most exquisite tortures and agonies. The cythraul had meant them all, too. He would peel her apart like a roasted partridge if he ever got the chance.
All that and more would be their fate if he was captured. For Daindreth, it wasn’t just his life at stake if Vesha had her way. Amira and the entire empire would suffer, too.
Amira pulled her horse closer to his. “If this is a trap...” she began, then stopped.
“I know,” Daindreth said. By now he knew her well enough to understand what she was going to say—something about him needing to flee and that she would be fine. A part of him saw the reason in that idea, but he wouldn’t be abandoning Amira, no matter the wisdom in fleeing.
“Head back toward the main city gate. Do you remember where it is?”
“I don’t see why it matters,” Daindreth answered shortly. “I wouldn’t leave without you.”
“But if you need to—”
“I won’t.” Their horses were close now. Daindreth rested his hand on her lower back, so as not to touch her injured shoulder.
Amira’s whole body tensed under his touch, though whether from anger or something else, he wasn’t sure. She whipped her head toward him, her expression lost in the shadow of her hood. He thought she might be about to snap at him, but then she spoke, her voice soaked in fear. “They can only kill me, Daindreth. They can do much worse to you.”
Daindreth hadn’t forgotten, but it changed nothing. “Amira.” He reined in his horse, stopping.
“What?” She stopped her horse beside him.
Daindreth leaned over and kissed her. He wasn’t sure how he found her lips in the dark, but he kept one hand on the reins and cradled her face with the other.
His kiss surprised her, but it didn’t take long for her to shift and lean into him, kissing him back with a recklessness that tasted of desperation.
Daindreth savored the taste of her, the feel of her. Even the faint hints of sandalwood in her hair intoxicated him. She was better than wine, better than the best jenever. “Not without you,” he whispered into her mouth.
“Dain, I can’t watch you—”
“I love you,” he said, kissing her again. “It will be alright. We’ll find away.”
Amira shuddered and he thought she might be crying. He shushed her and kissed her temple, stroking her back.
“You’re a hopeless romantic,” she muttered.
“No,” he said. “I am full of hope, my love.”
“You’re a fool.”
“Maybe.”
“You can’t die for me.” Her voice was shaky and soft, nearly a whimper.
“I can, actually,” Daindreth said. “I plan to, if it comes to that. But I’d rather not prove it.”
“I’m your Kadra’han. It’s my place to—”
“You’re my bride,” Daindreth countered. “You’ll be my wife before too long.” Daindreth let that unspoken assumption hang in the air, that they would be able to rid him of the demon. “If anyone’s going to do the dying, it will be me, so I’d rather we both live. How does that sound?”
Amira took a long breath, and it was hard to know what she was thinking, especially with her face shadowed in the dark. “If this is a trap, we run. Both of us.”
“Yes,” Daindreth agreed.
Amira was the first to spur her horse onward. Daindreth nudged his to follow, keeping close at her back and holding the same position at her flank.
The buildings here were two or three stories tall, made of stones that had greyed over the years. The seal of King Hyle had been carved over the main entrance of every building, illuminated by lamps that burned at the doorposts. There were tall buildings, small buildings, and buildings with crenellations and ornamental pillars, yet all was quiet.
It took Daindreth a few minutes to realize that they were in the administrative district. Fonra had brought him here last spring on a tour. It was where King Hyle’s tax collectors, judiciaries, constables, and other bureaucrats based their operations. Barely anyone stirred at this hour, though the occasional window was lit by a lamp and guards stood posted outside several of the buildings.
They came in sight of the postern and Amira reined in her horse. The two of them waited outside a pool of light cast by the nearest lamp, presumably out of view of the soldiers.
As best Daindreth could tell, there were only five men stationed nearby. Two stood at attention beside the postern and three more could be seen standing over the top of it along the battlement.
In the dark, it was hard to tell which way the guards faced. Were there more than usual? He wasn’t familiar with Lashera’s defenses and in truth, when he’d last been here, he had been more concerned with thinking up ways to speak with Amira.
“Is everything alright?” Daindreth asked.
“I should go alone. If they—”
“Do you sense an ambush?”
Amira exhaled. “There’s nothing unusual. I’m not picking up ka beyond the bodies in the buildings.” She gestured to the stone structures around them. “Just these men, but—”
“Then we go together.” Daindreth hadn’t planned to let her go alone, regardless.
Amira huffed as if he was being unreasonable.
“You’re the one who said we were short on time.” Daindreth nudged his horse forward first.
Amira kicked hers after him. She muttered something under her breath about men and their stubbornness, but he pretended not to hear. “When we get there, tell them you have an urgent message from King Hyle and need to deliver it as once. It will be less memorable if a man speaks.”
That seemed overly simple to Daindreth. Would that work? All the same, he nodded.
As they approached the postern, the guards straightened. There was a slight shifting of their weapons and a small shuffle as the men adjusted their stances.
“Who approaches?” demanded one, the archduke couldn’t tell which.
Daindreth eased his horse to a halt not fifteen feet from the two guards on the ground level. The postern gate arched between the men.
“A messenger from King Hyle,” Daindreth said. “Urgent and to be delivered at once.”
“Who gave the commission?” the guard pressed.
Daindreth didn’t know what that meant, but said the first name that came to mind, “Lord Cromwell.”
Daindreth heard Amira’s soft gasp behind him and wondered if that had been a mistake. Then the guards nodded and raised their polearms without another word.
The guards overhead set to work, pulling the levers and cranks that opened the gates. In a matter of moments, it swung open.
Daindreth looked back to Amira, her face pale and eyes wide in the moonlight. She looked from him to the open gate and back again. Then, she kicked her mare forward.
The little rouncey leapt into a canter and sprang past the guards with a snort. The armored men leaned back out of the way and Daindreth’s chestnut mare followed close on her heels.
Daindreth ducked low over his horse’s neck as they bolted from the gate. The stone arch flashed above and Daindreth had a brief glimpse of the portcullis spikes. He imagined for just a moment that those spikes were falling, about to ram into his skull.
Then they were past the gate and the cold night air thick with the scent of the forest slapped his face. A narrow dirt road snaked away from the postern, winding through the sloping hill and down toward the forest some two hundred paces off.
Amira didn’t slow her horse, one hand guiding the mare, bent low with the horse’s mane flapping in her face.
Daindreth’s chestnut kept pace as they bolted for the treeline, the assassin focused straight ahead. She kicked her horse faster and Daindreth kicked his own to keep pace.
They made it to the treeline and the shadows of the dark pines. The road continued on, hemmed in by branches. Here, just a few hundred paces from the city, was wholly different. Everything seemed quieter and calmer, like this forest had not changed since the creation of the world.
Once they were away from the torchlit shadow that was the city, Amira eased her horse into a walk and Daindreth slowed his to match their speed.
“Are we being followed?” Daindreth asked.
“Not that I can tell.” Amira kept her attention in front of them.
“What do you think that was about?” Daindreth glanced back over their shoulders.
“Hard to say,” Amira answered. “Maybe Cromwell has some grand scheme with the sorceresses or with King Hyle. Or maybe both. Perhaps he found out he has a conscience after all. We may never know.”
“Do you think he’s dead?” Daindreth asked.
“No.” Amira replied without hesitation.
“The Kadra’han are not known for being forgiving. They will know he helped us escape.”
“I know.” She sighed. “Cromwell is many things, but I find it hard to believe that self-sacrificing is one of them. He’ll find a way to live. Like a cockroach.”
Daindreth arched one eyebrow. “Sometimes, I can’t tell if you hate him or not.”
“I don’t trust him,” Amira said, though that much had been obvious since Daindreth had first seen the two interact months ago. “But at the same time...he’s never lied to me, not that I know of. In some twisted way, he’s protected me. Even if he’s also betrayed me.”
Daindreth didn’t understand it, but at the same time, he did. His mother was like that.
She had sacrificed everything for him and for the empire he would inherit. She had given her life and possibly her soul to the stability and prosperity of Erymaya and its territories.
Vesha had sworn to serve Moreyne, the fallen goddess, for the sake of what she saw as the greater good. She’d even been willing to hand over her only son to be a cythraul’s puppet.
That first night that Vesha had explained to Daindreth what she planned to do, what Caa Iss was demanding...Vesha hadn’t wept, but Daindreth had seen the signs of tears in her red eyes.
It would destroy his mother to hand him over to a demon, but she would do it. If that was the price demanded for the safety and stability of the empire, she would do it.
Sometimes, Daindreth thought her a fool. Who could trust promises from the Dread Marches? Other times, he thought himself selfish. Who could deny that the demons had kept their end of the bargain? And for more than a decade, too?
Worse, who could deny that the storms were unusually frequent in the weeks since he had left Mynadra? And who could deny the drowned village back in that valley?
The cythraul had ensured peace and prosperity for years and years. Now that their contract had been violated, the land was shaking. Daindreth feared that at any moment it might crumble.
He rode on alongside Amira as she pressed deeper into the forests.
“We’ll find the Istovari’s trail in the morning,” Amira said.
In the distance, thunder rumbled. Veins of light crackled along the horizon.
Amira let off a bark of laughter that echoed the storm. “But of course!”
“Will that wash away the tracks?”
“Maybe,” Amira said, not sounding concerned.
Daindreth glared at the sky, at the dark forest, and the narrow path. All of it kept them from spurring their horses into a breakneck gallop and rescuing Thadred.
“We’ll head north,” Amira said. “If they’re going to the Cursewood, they’d have to go that way eventually. We’ll pick up their trail in daylight.”
Daindreth had tracked boars and stags in the forest before, but always with dogs and a team of trained hunters. Here, he had only one hunter—his bride-to-be. Amira perched on her horse with her injured arm slung across her chest.
He wasn’t so sure she was up to it.
