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Amira
Amira’s shoulder no longer pained her. She’d coiled ka around it constantly since her fall and it seemed to be working. Her hands had also been scraped on her way down and those were still a little sore, but the skin was again whole and only a few pink marks remained. She had new aches and pains, but that was to be expected.
At the moment, the cold was her greatest ailment. Though she and Daindreth had oilskin cloaks now, even that only went so far.
Daindreth pulled her tighter against his side as they watched the rain fall. A farmer had allowed them to take shelter on his front steps last night after it had become too dark to keep chasing the trail of the sorceress.
He’d allowed their horses to be tied under the lean-to with his cows, too.
It was hardly the kind of hospitality that anyone boasted about, but Amira didn’t blame him. If he let them inside his house, he’d be obligated to share his food. As it was, Amira had counted six children and a very pregnant wife. She didn’t blame him for being miserly.
The boards of the porch were hard against Amira’s backside, but her body fit easily against Daindreth’s. Everywhere they touched, she was warm. She wanted to curl against him and fall asleep, but the instant the rain let up, they needed to grab their horses and be off.
They had to be at least twenty miles from Lashera. She only hoped the rain had delayed any Kadra’han that were in pursuit, not that she was going to rely on that.
“Are you alright?” Daindreth asked.
“Cold,” Amira groaned.
“What can I do?” Daindreth looked her over. He was pale in the cold with dark circles under his eyes. Rain soaked and disheveled, he looked almost as bad as she felt. Unlike her, he wasn’t used to being bedraggled, either.
Amira rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes again. “You’re doing it,” she exhaled.
Despite their best efforts, sleep hadn’t been an option. The porch was barely wide enough for them both to sit and some of the rain still hit them when the wind picked up.
Daindreth rubbed her lower back. “When this is over,” he said softly, “when we’re back home in Mynadra. With Thadred. And without Caa Iss.”
Amira tilted her head up to look at him as he spoke, ear still pressed against the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
Daindreth pulled her closer and offered her a soft smile. “We’ll have a tub filled with hot water, big enough for both of us. We’ll have the servants add lavender and sandalwood and we’ll soak in it until we’re clean as new silk.”
“Hmm.” Amira glanced to the pouring rain, shifting so that she could reach over and take his hand with her left. “We’ll both be in it?”
“Yes,” Daindreth whispered. He toyed with the end of her braid. “I can wash your hair for you, if you’d like.”
“I would like that,” Amira said, closing her eyes.
He kissed her hair, breathing in her scent. “Your hair could use with a good washing, I think.”
Amira smacked his thigh. “Bathtubs are scarce out here, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Daindreth nuzzled the back of her neck. “You’ve been busy with other things.”
The roar of the rain meant that they had to be inches away to even hear one another. At least that should mean that the farmer and his family wouldn’t be able to overhear them.
Amira relaxed against Daindreth as best she could, focusing on the closeness and warmth of his body instead of the cold. When his arms were wrapped around her like this, nothing else mattered. They were safe. They were where they were meant to be.
She closed her eyes and tried to sleep again. Daindreth held her and they waited, half-dozing, as the rain hammered from above and fell in sheet after sheet.
“The storms shouldn’t be this bad,” Amira murmured, a clenching sensation in her gut. “It rains in the summer sometimes, but not like this. Not for days on end.”
Daindreth squeezed her just a little tighter. “Freak storms,” he said quietly. “Do you think...?”
“I think we need to get Thadred,” Amira interrupted. “And then get the Istovari mothers to see reason.”
“How, Amira?”
Amira looked to the general direction of north, the direction of the Cursewood. “We’ll find a way,” she softly vowed. “Somehow.”
Daindreth stroked her back. “Sairydwen said they wouldn’t.”
“They don’t get to kill you to cover up their mistake,” she spat. “They know they made a mistake, bringing Caa Iss to this plane of existence. They get to live with that now.” Amira’s breathing quickened and her heart sped up. “They don’t get to just walk away and leave innocent people to take the fall. It’s time they were held accountable for something and I—”
“Amira.” Daindreth squeezed her tightly against him. “Peace, dearest.”
Amira exhaled, pressing her cheek against his arm. “They made this mess. They can fix it. Every curse can be broken.”
“Sairydwen said the cost of breaking this one would be too high.”
“Sairydwen’s a bitch,” Amira muttered.
“She seemed to know what she was talking about, Amira.”
“What’s too high for an outcast sorceress may not be too high for us.”
Daindreth was quiet for a long moment. “Your mother...” He took a deep breath and began again. “Your mother was willing to pay the price of her only child.”
Amira shifted in his arms. “Yes.” She’d admitted it freely enough. She didn’t suppose there was any reason to be shy about it now.
“If she and the others were willing to pay a price that high, what could be higher?”
“Maybe something she loved,” Amira snapped back.
“I believe your mother loved you, Amira. I believe she still does.”
Amira felt something in her going hard at that. The old guard dog of anger took a protective stance over that place in her heart where the past had left a gaping wound.
Last she’d seen her mother, the woman had allowed Amira’s wrists to be slit and her blood used to fuel the spells of the trapped Istovari sorceress. They’d left her for dead in a ruined tower and Amira had only survived because Emperor Drystan’s Kadra’han found her.
“What would you know of it?” Amira would have pushed him away, but she feared that they might fall off the porch into the mud if she did.
“Just a hunch,” Daindreth said. “What sacrifice would it have been if she didn’t value what she was giving up?” He shrugged. “Cythraul are twisted that way.”
Amira bristled. “She left me bleeding on a stone floor.”
“My mother strapped me to a silver chair and tried to give my soul to a demon.” Daindreth’s tone took on a hint of sarcasm at that. “But I believe she loves me, too. She just loves the empire—or her idea of it—more.” After a moment, Daindreth tucked Amira under his chin. “Quite the pair, aren’t we?”
Amira let off a bark of laughter, her annoyance with him fading. “We’re a mess.”
“I suppose,” was the archduke’s only reply. He kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”
He said it so easily, like they were a natural byproduct of breathing. Like it had become something easy and innate.
Amira’s heart hitched a little and she peered up at him.
“What? I’ve said it before.”
Amira straightened, twisting and rising onto her knees to bring her lips to his. She kissed him softly, gently. She felt his lips curl into a smile as he kissed her back, his warm hands sliding along her back.
She kissed the stubble along the side of his face, brushing her cheek against his. She kissed a trail down the side of his neck, exploring. Her uninjured hand stroked his side, feeling the lines of his ribs and muscles, studying the shape of him.
His breath caught as her hand wandered down his side and she grinned against his collarbone.
“I love you,” she whispered, letting her breath tickle his skin with the words. She brought her hand up to stroke his chest, playing with the strings of the simple shirt he’d had since Mynadra. “You’re the only man I’ve ever loved.”
“Only one?” he whispered back. He slid one arm around her, pulling her closer.
“Well, I hardly think kissing the laundress’s son counts.” Amira kissed his jaw, just near the corner of his mouth.
“That’s how you’re so good at this,” he teased, a playful tone entering his voice. “You’ve had practice.”
“Not a lot,” Amira giggled. “What do you take me for?”
“The love of my life,” Daindreth said, the words lingering between them for a long moment—a promise. “That’s what I take you for.”
Amira kissed him again, deeply, slowly. She savored the taste of him, the feel of him, the way his hands stroked her back.
One of his hands worked under the edge of her shirt, his fingers tracing along the skin beneath her hem.
Amira gasped as that sent shivers through her whole body. Everything in her ached for more of his touch, his warmth, his whispered endearments in her ear, his hands in her hair and sliding over her skin.
“Amira.” When he said her name, it was almost a growl, his voice low and hungry.
She nipped his earlobe, teasing. “I want you,” she whispered. “I want you so much it hurts.” And it did hurt. Her need for him was like a hard ache deep in her stomach, a burning hunger that yearned and pleaded and demanded.
Daindreth kissed her neck, leaving a trail along her throat. She tilted her head back and sighed with pleasure.
This was hardly proper behavior for a future emperor and his future empress, but no one else was here to care.
The door creaked and swung open.
Amira jumped, hackles raised, her left hand gravitating to the nearest knife at her hip. She looked up to see the farmer standing there with his wool cap limp on his head and his large hands wringing in front of him.
It was obvious enough what Amira and Daindreth had been doing, with his hands under her shirt and her partway straddling him. Daindreth flushed, color flooding his cheeks as he shifted to let Amira right herself. He kept one arm around Amira to balance her as she straightened, disentangling herself from him while trying not to fall off the narrow porch.
The farmer’s lip curled at them, like he was disgusted, but had been expecting as much. What was one supposed to think when a man and a woman traveling alone showed up in the middle of nowhere? “Storm’s letting up,” he said, gesturing to the rain. “I’m thinking you had best be going.”
Amira glanced to the rain just a few steps away. It had slowed to a sprinkle, but the skies were still far from clear. “In a hurry to have us gone?” she asked.
“I don’t want trouble,” the farmer said.
“We look like trouble to you?”
“Trouble on legs,” the farmer answered with a nod, his thick jowls clamping down on the last word like a hound on a bone. “Well-dressed, speaking with highborn accents. I don’t want no runaways hereabouts.”
Amira and Daindreth didn’t want trouble, either. The two of them thanked the farmer, though Daindreth sounded more sincere than Amira.
The two of them made their way toward the narrow lean to where they had left their horses. The farmer followed them at a safe distance. His wife watched from the open door, children clustered around her skirts. Not one of them rose higher than her waist.
Amira glanced back to them, their nervous faces, a frown creasing her brow. “Have you been expecting trouble lately?” she asked the farmer.
He glanced back to his family, shoulders hunched beneath the wide-brimmed leather hat he wore. “There’s always trouble coming from the city,” he muttered.
“Lashera?” Amira was used to the suspicious farm folk of rural Hylendale. The war had not been so long ago in the memory of many villages and communities. Most of them had a cousin, brother, or some other relative who had been killed in the battle against the sorceresses.
When the Erymayan army had come into the countryside to hunt down the sorceresses, they had not been gentle with these independent farms. Neither had Hylendale’s own army.
Every one of them was suspect for harboring or supplying the sorceresses. After all, the witches had to be getting their provisions and supplies from somewhere. Who if not these superstitious villagers?
Still, Amira pressed him. “Any special reason to expect trouble now?”
They reached the lean-to. Daindreth unlatched the paddock and stepped inside, gesturing for Amira to wait.
It was odd, be taken care of. It made her feel helpless and lazy, but at the same time...she might be able to get used to it. There was a relief in having someone take care of her, like she’d been free climbing a cliff her whole life and now suddenly had a rope to catch her if she fell.
The gruff farmer leaned against the rails of the paddock, suspiciously eyeing Daindreth as the archduke dragged out the chestnut and bay mares. “Kelpie took one of my sheep this week,” the farmer muttered. “Always a bad omen.”
“Kelpie?” Amira hadn’t heard of those in a long time. “You’re sure?”
The farmer spat, then rubbed his thick jowls. “Had to be,” he said. “Ain’t nothing else that will hunt during a thunderstorm.”
Amira frowned, thinking. “Are you sure it came during the storm? Could it have taken the sheep before or after? While you were in your house?”
“Look, girl,” the farmer said with a huff. “I knows a kelpie when I’s been robbed by a kelpie. It came out of the forest and dragged one of my best rams into the woods. Plucked him straight out of the paddock. All we found were the hooves and a bloody smear.”
Amira noticed the spikes that had been driven into the ground all the way around the paddock with crossbars nailed in place—a new addition, from the look of it. She’d wondered why the fence had been raised so high.
“We haven’t seen kelpies this far south since...” Amira frowned. Her father had put a bounty on the animals years ago. At one time, hunters could trade a kelpie’s head for its weight in gold.
Despite that, few of the bounties had been claimed as few were foolhardy enough to actually chase the animals. Those that were, were rarely heard from again.
Kelpies were crafty, some said they possessed human-like intelligence. They were also unabashedly vicious and aggressive beasts.
Amira chewed the inside of her lip.
“Storms have brought them down. That’s what it has to be,” the farmer said. “Weeks of rain. Not natural.”
Amira was almost afraid to ask, but she needed to. She knew she needed the answer for certain even if it might confirm all her worst fears.
“Weeks, you say? When did the rains start?”
The farmer cast Amira a sideways, wary look. “Where have you been, girl?”
Amira swallowed. The whole kingdom must have been suffering these past weeks, ever since Daindreth had escaped Mynadra.
“Not around here, not recently,” Amira answered.
The farmer grunted. He puffed out his chest as Daindreth wrangled the horses back through the tight press of sheep. Finally, the gruff man answered. “Must be close to a fortnight ago,” he said. “Day before, it was clear. Then at morning, the first storm rolled in. Ever since then, we’ve had nothing but rain. Bad omen, I tell you.”
If she hadn’t already been half frozen by the cold rain, Amira would have gone pale.
“We’ve angered the goddess somehow,” the farmer said, looking to the weeping sky. “Or the king has.”
Amira watched as Daindreth led the horses back, nudging the last few sheep out of the way as he reached the gate.
“Do you believe in demons, girl?” The farmer gave her a long, measured look.
Amira’s heart chilled, but she maintained her composure. This man couldn’t know who they were or know about Caa Iss. He couldn’t. She returned his look with a quirked eyebrow. “I believe in a lot of things.”
“I don’t know what’s got two young pups like you headed north. Nothing up there except one or two manor houses, a handful of garrisons, and a few other humble farmers like myself. But whatever it is that you’re looking for, you’d do best to turn back now.”
Amira blinked at him. “Why?”
“The evil always comes from the north first,” he said. “Even in the olden days when the sorceresses had their lairs in the mountains. Even before then, in the days when the goddesses fought over whose children would walk the world.”
“They’re just stories,” Amira said, even though she herself knew full well how real those stories could be.
The farmer shook his head. “I warned you, girl. Now you two be going and don’t come back here.”
Daindreth brought her horse over and Amira mounted with his help. Once in the saddle, Amira glanced over her shoulder to see him handing a silver coin to the farmer. The man’s eyes widened and so did Amira’s.
“Thank you, young sir,” the farmer said, tipping the edge of his hat. “That’s...mighty generous of you.”
Amira clenched her jaw at that. Yes, it was generous, ridiculously so.
As they rode away, Amira cast Daindreth a scathing glare. “We could have used that to buy a night at an inn back in Lashera.”
“I know.” Daindreth pulled his hood over his head. “I thought it might be a good idea to curry the man’s favor.”
“Why?”
“When we come back, we might be in need of help,” he pointed out. “I’d like to think we have someone along the road who will remember us fondly.”
It was a fair enough argument even if Amira still didn’t see it as justifying the expense.
They steered their horses back onto the narrow sheep path that qualified as a road. Their horses could barely walk side by side, but the close trees protected them somewhat from the rain still falling from overhead.
Around them, the world smoked with ka as frogs, insects, and other small forms of life ventured out into the rain. Though the furry and feathered forest animals were mostly tucked into their burrows, the trees, ferns, and other vegetation put off more ka than usual. Even the moss along the tree trunks burned brighter.
“What were the two of you talking about? You and the farmer. About evil always coming from the north?”
“Just an old superstition,” Amira answered. “Hylendale has been an ancestral home of sorceresses for a long time. Once, it was ruled by clans of sorceresses, but they were eventually consolidated into the Istovari.”
Daindreth glanced to her. “Yes, but I’m still interested in the evil part.”
“It’s folklore. More myth than fact at this point, most likely.”
“I have a myth living in my skull.” Daindreth tapped his temple as he said it. “I want to hear them.”
“Well,” Amira sighed. Her mother had taught her some of the old stories, but most of her youth, she’d only heard snatches of them from incomplete references and whispers of doom whenever people had started to fear the return of the Istovari. “There used to be sorceress collegiums in the mountains. No one really knows for sure how many. It might have been just one with multiple orders, but anyway. They got carried away.”
“Carried away?”
“With their experiments. They tried melding animals with plants. That’s how Hylendale got our spruce finches. Some animals they just modified, that’s how we got the stiltfoxes.”
Daindreth frowned, watching the forest ahead as they rode.
“Kelpies, too.”
“About that.” Daindreth pointed back to the farm, indicating the farmer that they had just left behind. “What is a kelpie?”
“A water horse,” Amira answered. “Supposedly, they live in streams and rivers, though they prefer lakes.”
“And they eat sheep, apparently?”
“They eat lots of things,” Amira answered. “But yes, they’re known to eat sheep.”
Daindreth made a sound that indicated more curiosity than concern. “They sound dangerous.”
“They are. Fortunately, they don’t usually leave the mountain rivers.”
“What possessed the sorceresses to make something like that?”
Amira had wondered that about many of her mothers’ inventions. She’d given up trying to understand those women a long time ago. “I have no idea,” she answered honestly. “Some people say that it was an effort to create a superior war steed for their sons and only a male sorcerer can tame one.”
Daindreth was quiet for a long moment. “Like one of the Kadra’han on our trail?”
Amira rolled her eyes. “Well, that would be just our luck, wouldn’t it? If Iasu came after us astride a massive man-eating hellhorse.”
Daindreth chuckled a little at that. “But the collegiums are gone,” Daindreth said, his voice returning to a serious tone. “Long before my father’s time, then.”
“Yes,” Amira confirmed. “Some of their experiments used human subjects and they took a few too many people. The land was ruled by tribal chieftains then, and a warlord’s son allied five or so clans to put them down. He nearly wiped them out, but they sued for peace in the end. That warlord married a sorceress as part of the peace terms. A few generations later, one of his descendants declared himself the first king in these lands. With what survived of the Istovari as his allies, few could stand against him.”
“Your ancestor?” Daindreth asked.
“There are a few twists and turns in the family tree, but my father’s lineage traces back him, yes. Istovari have always been close with the royals and nobles of Hylendale.”
There had been a time when sorceresses had served in the personal staffs of anyone wealthy enough to afford them, much like physicians or court musicians did now.
“What about other stories, Amira? What else do people say about the sorceresses?”
Amira looked up to the sky, now letting off no more than a light shower. She knew he had to be seeking answers in these stories, looking for some hints as to why and how he had been cursed.
“There’s one story,” she began, hesitating, “a story about the first sorceresses.”
Daindreth kept his attention on the road, but she could see his interest in the way his weight shifted, and his head tilted to bring his ear just a little closer.
“It’s an obscure myth,” Amira added. “I don’t think it’s told outside Hylendale.”
Daindreth was quiet, waiting.
“It says that when the world was new, the two moon goddesses, Moreyne and Eponine, both ruled the skies.” There were many myths about how the second moon, Moreyne, had been shattered, but none quite told it this way. The way Amira had been taught. Before now, it had never seemed more than another cultural interpretation, but now...Amira had wondered if perhaps there was more to it.
“One day, Eponine disappeared from the heavens for a hundred years. Moreyne wandered the skies alone, searching for her sister. At the end of a hundred years, Moreyne found Eponine atop a mountain weeping over a fresh grave.”
The horses rounded a bend in the road and Amira continued the story.
“Moreyne descended to the mountain and went to her weeping sister. When she asked Eponine where she had been and why she wept, Eponine said she had been unable to bear only watching humans with their laughter and love and light. So she descended to the earth to walk among them, to taste of their lives and experience the world in the colors the sun gives it. In Eponine’s travels, she met a young shepherd and loved him dearly. The past hundred years she had been his wife and watched him wither and grow old while Eponine herself remained as beautiful and eternal as the sky.”
Daindreth frowned. “They were married for a hundred years? But that means he would have had to be—”
Amira shot him a dark look. “It’s just how the story goes.”
“Sorry.”
Amira cleared her throat and went on. “Moreyne didn’t understand her sister’s grief but tried to console her and bring her back to the skies. Eponine said she would, but first must bid farewell to her children. Moreyne didn’t understand what her sister meant, but she returned with Eponine to a small village filled with the children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and even some great-great grandchildren of her sister. They were all grieving the loss of their patriarch, but upon seeing Eponine return, they rushed out to greet her. Eponine told them that the world had lost its sweetness for her now that her beloved was gone. She planned to return to the heavens and keep watch over them all. But before she left, Eponine gave a gift to her daughters.”
By all appearances, Daindreth still appeared to be paying attention. Amira had heard the story so many times in her youth that it had become droll to her. In some of the newer versions of the legend, Eponine told her daughters to do good with their gifts, but they promptly set to working evil. That wasn’t the version Amira had learned from her mother.
“Eponine taught her daughters and granddaughters how to shift and bend life—ka—so that they could heal and mend and protect even after she was gone. Just as the moon shifts the ebb and flow of the sea, so would her daughters be able to shift the ebb and flow of life. These were the first sorceresses.”
“Hmm.” Daindreth looked contemplative. “I haven’t heard this story before.”
“Of course not. It’s Istovari.”
“Is that the end?”
“No.” Amira adjusted her grip on her reins. “After Eponine and Moreyne returned to the skies, another hundred years passed. Eponine’s descendants on the earth flourished and Eponine watched over them with motherly pride. She rejoiced at their triumphs and wept with their failures. On nights when Eponine was full in the sky, they would hold celebrations under the stars, dancing on hillsides long into the wee hours of the morning.
“Moreyne saw this over time as that first clan of sorcerers and sorceresses grew and continued in their devotion to their mother goddess. Eponine’s descendants spread worship of her across the lands. Soon worship of Eponine was widespread across much of the people in the north.
“But Moreyne was jealous. She wanted her own children. She scoured the world, searching for a mate. First, she approached a shipwright, asking, ‘Would you love me as the shepherd loved my sister?’ But the shipwright sailed away, saying ‘My love is for Fenella, daughter of the sea god.’ Next Moreyne approached a woodsman, asking, ‘Would you love me as the shepherd loved my sister?’ But the woodsmen said, ‘My love is for Dyani, the maiden of the forest.’ Frustrated, Moreyne went to a king. But even the king refused her, saying ‘My love is for Anu, goddess of war who grants me victory.’”
Daindreth frowned. “Would there have even been kings in these lands at that time? Also, shipwrights weren’t a profession until—”
Amira rolled her eyes. “That’s why it’s folklore, darling. Stop interrupting.”
Daindreth shook his head. “Apologies. Continue.”
“Unable to find a man to father her children, Moreyne chose to craft them alone. So just as Eponine used the dregs of life, ka, to create magic, Moreyne used the dregs of shadows and darkness plucked from between stones. She drew forth burning rock from the heart of the earth and crafted herself children out of the basalt and obsidian.”
Daindreth didn’t comment, but his head tilted slightly toward her with interest.
“But since Eponine’s children were created through the consummation of her love for her human consort, they were beautiful, kind, wise, and good. Moreyne’s children were made from jealousy, envy, and spite. They came forth twisted and misshapen, perverted, and corrupt. Those were the first cythraul.”
Daindreth inhaled looking down the road and the narrow, winding path ahead of them. “It sounds like your people and the cythraul have long history.”
“We’re cousins, according to the lore.”
“Do you believe it?” Daindreth asked. “That you’re the descendant of a goddess?”
It was so ridiculous, Amira had to stop herself from sneering. “If I had a penny for every pharaoh or emperor who had ever claimed to be descended of the gods...”
Daindreth chuckled. “Fair enough. My ancestors claimed to be descended of Demred.”
Amira snorted. “God of retribution, yes.” All rulers claimed to be descended of the gods of war, honor, the sun, or something else grandiose and pretentious. No one ever claimed to be descended of a fish god or a hearth deity, though there were far more of those.
“If you’d known my father instead of me, you might not laugh at that.”
Amira shrugged. “Fair enough.” In her mind, she knew Daindreth was the son of Emperor Drystan the Great. She knew that his father had been the one to char the continent with ash and then wash it with blood. She knew all that, yet it was easy to forget.
Emperor Drystan had taken everything from her, from her family, and from many others. She’d cursed him a thousand times over her mother’s betrayal, banishment, and even blamed him for her own curse at one point.
Emperor Drystan was in many ways an abstract idea, a concept that was more a stand-in for all the forces that had conspired against her in the past. He was a synonym for the misfortune and mischance that had landed the daughter of a king in a Kadra’han’s vows.
Now she loved his son. One day, she might occupy the throne Emperor Drystan had won for his wife. She might even carry on Emperor Drystan’s bloodline by bearing Daindreth’s children.
It almost seemed hypocritical, but why not? Why shouldn’t she have everything that man had taken for himself?
“All the stories about cythraul origins say that Moreyne created them,” Daindreth said, breaking the silence. “In one way or another. There are many variations, but they all involve the second moon goddess forming them from the earth.”
Amira considered that for a long moment. “Caa Iss mentioned Moreyne on the night of the Blood Moon.”
“Yes,” Daindreth agreed.
“It’s still just stories.” Amira shook her head to clear the rain from her eyes. “Who really knows?”
“Do you think they know?” Daindreth asked.
“Who?”
“The Istovari. Do you think they actually know what they’ve done, what Caa Iss can do, or just that they’ve made a terrible mistake?”
“What do you mean?”
“They were desperate,” Daindreth explained, his voice going quiet. “What if they cursed my father without knowing the full implications? What if they still aren’t even sure what they did, just that they need to undo it?”
“They’re going to undo it,” Amira said flatly.
“What if they can’t?”
Amira reined her horse to a stop, fixing Daindreth in a hard glare. “They will.”
Daindreth stopped his horse, glancing back to her.
“If they need proper motivation, I’ll be sure to help them find it, but they will help you, Daindreth.” Amira’s nostrils flared.
“Amira.” Daindreth let off a long breath.
“Why are you always the first one to give up?” Amira demanded. “Why are you so ready to surrender and let that thing win? Let your mother win? Do you have any fight at all?”
Daindreth closed his eyes and turned away. “I have been fighting, Amira. I’ve been fighting for years.”
“And you’re just going to throw that all away now?” Amira stiffened in her saddle. “How can you...how can you...”
After both Amira and Thadred had proven that they were willing to see this through alongside him, after they had fought tooth and nail to break him free of the palace—how could he lack the will to live? Especially when there was so much to live for?
Wasn’t the hope of freedom enough to live for? Wasn’t she enough to live for?
Amira nudged her horse and the mare sprang into a brisk walk.
Daindreth called after her, but he sounded tired, defeated. That was the whole problem. He kept accepting defeat.
Amira kept her horse in the lead. She hunched her shoulders against the rain that still fell and fixed her attention ahead. “Come on. Thadred’s waiting.”
