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Amira
Daindreth dropped his sword and rushed to the edge of the river.
Amira caught him by his collar before he dove in after the knight and the kelpie. The two interlocked foes fell into the river and the current sucked them down. She had no idea when the river had become that deep, but this was the Cursewood.
“Thadred,” she panted, not letting go of Daindreth. They’d come so far and gone through so much and now they found him, and no sooner had they been together again than...
Amira grabbed Daindreth and wrapped her arms around his chest from behind. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, surprised by how much her voice trembled. “I’m so sorry.”
Daindreth braced his hands at the edge of the river, shaking his head. “It was my fault,” he gasped. “I was the one who decided to come into the Cursewood. He was protecting me, I—”
“Shush.” Amira hugged him tighter. “No, Daindreth. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was.”
“It wasn’t. Shush. We need to move,” she said the words as softly as she could. “The kelpie could come back, and we can’t be here when it does.”
Up ahead, their horses had already galloped out of sight, taking their provisions and most their gear with them.
“Princess Amira? Archduke Fanduillion?”
Amira looked up, following the source of a ka signature she hadn’t noticed before. “You!” She let go of Daindreth and drew her dagger, standing between him and the sorceress.
Sairydwen crouched on her knees at the edge of an overhanging ledge, watching them with an expression that was hard to read. “You should come up here,” she said, her voice strained. “The kelpie...might come back.”
“Where are the Kadra’han?” Amira demanded, not sensing them anywhere nearby. But the archer had to have been the one shooting at them back there. Though Amira thought the sorceress would be at odds with Vesha’s men, at this point, she wasn’t taking any chances.
“In the Cursewood,” Sairydwen answered. She stared past Amira to where Thadred and the kelpie had gone under the water. “Thadred and I ran from them.” She inhaled a long breath. “I didn’t realize the water was that deep.”
“How do we know you won’t trick us with another set of spells?” Amira demanded.
Sairydwen shook her head and raised her hands. Even from a distance of twenty or so feet, Amira could see the bloody gouges in her palms and grimaced, but Sair nodded to the dull cuff around one wrist. “Tenebrous steel, courtesy of the Kadra’han,” Sairydwen said wanly.
Amira knew only a little about tenebrous steel, but she knew enough to know it would have disabled a sorceress like Sairydwen from working. “Then what was that flare of ka that I sensed earlier?” Amira demanded. “Was that you? Or the Kadra’han?”
“It was Thadred,” Sairydwen answered softly.
“Thadred is no sorcerer.” Amira stumbled over her own words. Should she have said was?
“He has a gift,” Sairydwen answered. “If he isn’t a sorcerer, then he could have been.”
Amira searched more closely. She certainly didn’t sense any unusual levels of ka from the woman now. Unlike last time, there was nothing even mild enough to be mistaken for lichen or moss. The entire cliff face and everything surrounding Sairydwen was barren, save for the miasmic cloud that hung over the entirety of the Cursewood.
Daindreth stood behind Amira and jabbed an accusing finger at the sorceress. “You sent him to his death!”
Sairydwen shook her head. “I tried to stop him, but he...” She looked back to the river again. “He saved me from the Kadra’han. He didn’t have to, but he...” She trailed off. Her face was a vacant, shellshocked mask. For a space of heartbeats, she said nothing. Then, shaking her head, she seemed to remember what she had been saying. “As I said, the kelpie may come back. You would be safer up here and I would rather not be alone.”
Amira looked to Daindreth. She noticed him blinking back tears, his fists opening and closing. “Daindreth.” Amira touched his arm with her free hand.
“She’s the reason...” He shook his head. “I can’t just...”
“Thadred trusted her.”
“How do you know?”
“He wanted us to climb up. He wouldn’t have said that if he feared she’d betray us. Besides. She can’t use magic and she’s alone.”
Daindreth lowered his head, fists still clenched at his sides. He seemed to steady himself, then nodded. “Alright.”
Amira kissed his cheek and sheathed her dagger. She studied the cliff face—jagged and worn by decades, maybe even centuries of water and weather.
It wouldn’t be hard to climb up, though her hard-soled riding boots might prove to be a bit of a challenge.
“Come,” Sairydwen beckoned. “Thadred’s spell should be drawing help soon.”
“Help?” Amira cocked one eyebrow skeptically. She had moved toward the cliff, but now hesitated. She suspected that she and Sairydwen had very different definitions of that word.
“My sisters,” Sairydwen said. “He sent a message to them. They’ll find me soon.”
“Oh?” Amira cocked one eyebrow. “That was kind of him.”
“Would you rather die in this place?” Sairydwen countered.
“According to you, the Istovari mothers want us dead anyway.”
“Not both of you,” she answered, her gaze sliding past Amira to Daindreth.
Amira drew her dagger again.
“Princess Amira—”
“The Kadra’han might have lanced your hands, but if you even think about touching Daindreth, I’ll cut them off, do you understand? Same goes for any sorceress who wants to try.”
It was Daindreth’s turn to touch her arm. He stood close enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence, the ka seeping out of him.
Sairydwen inhaled a long breath and leaned back, out of sight. “You would doom us all for your infatuation?”
“It’s not—” Amira froze, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Something changed in the air. There was a shift and a flutter, like a deck of cards reshuffling.
“Amira!” a male voice called.
She snapped her head to the left, back the way they had come, and her heart nearly stopped. “Iasu.”
The other assassin had a scratch on his temple and moved stiff on his left side, but he strode confidently across the gravel. He carried his hands loose at his sides, but that was little comfort. He had a myriad of sharp blades and hooked throwing knives strapped to the padded armor over his ribs, layered like the scales of a fish.
Iasu came to a halt some twenty or thirty paces away from them. “It’s been a long time, little sister.”
Iasu was nearly a head shorter than her. It was laughable for him to call anyone little, but Amira didn’t laugh.
Daindreth drew his sword. “The Kadra’han from the warehouse.”
Iasu raised his chin, studying them both.
Amira’s heart beat faster. Iasu had been at Kelamora around the same time she had. He’d been a young recruit, too, but bound to the empress already.
Originally from the empress’s homeland, he was small, tan, and stood out in most crowds. When his gift had been discovered while he was still a toddler, he’d been sold by his parents to traders who had in turn sold him to the Kadra’han trainers at Kelamora.
He’d once told her that he couldn’t even remember his first language now. He spoke Erymayan perfectly and with an imperial accent that threw most people off.
“Are you alone?” Amira demanded. She glanced surreptitiously for cover, anything she could use as a shield for when his knives started flying.
“No more than you,” Iasu answered. He stood with one foot behind the other, body shifted sideways in the ready stance.
“I can’t let you take him,” she said, shaking her head. “You know I can’t.”
“I know,” Iasu said with a sigh. He considered the many knives and throwing weapons strapped over his chest. “But I can’t let you keep him.”
Amira glanced from left to right, searching for the other Kadra’han. “How many were there?” she called to Sairydwen, hoping that the woman would have no incentive to lie.
“Four,” Sairydwen said.
One had presumably been ripped apart by the kelpie, so that left two unaccounted for.
“I’m stronger than you, Amira.” Iasu kept prodding at the knives, like a master artist choosing the best brush for a particular piece of canvas. “I’ve spent years serving my bond instead of fighting it as you did with your father. You can’t win.”
Amira wasn’t so sure that was true. Istovari were one of the strongest, if not the strongest, sorceress bloodlines to exist. What was more, she was the only Kadra’han she knew of who had been able to break the curse associated with her bond.
Still.
“I don’t want to fight you, Iasu,” Amira said, stalling for time.
“And I don’t want to fight you,” Iasu answered mildly. He plucked a star-shaped knife from near his hip and examined it, cocking his head to one side. “But the empress ordered me to bring the archduke back alive and make sure you were dead.”
“I have no intention of being taken alive,” Daindreth answered calmly. “And I have no intention of letting you touch her.”
Iasu let off a slow breath. “I heard about your suicide attempt,” he said. “I admit, it does complicate things.” He dropped his hand with the throwing star to his side. “How to do this?” Iasu glanced between them, contemplative.
Amira sensed a new flare of ka right before she caught a flicker of motion from above, behind Sairydwen. She looked up and Daindreth shouted. From the corner of her eye, she saw Iasu move an instant before a silver streak shot for her head.
“Amira!” Daindreth grabbed her and jerked her out of the way as Iasu’s throwing star spun through the air where her head had been.
Iasu cursed as his weapon missed and disappeared into the river.
“Run!” Amira panted, grabbing Daindreth’s arm. “We need to—”
A cry from above was the only warning before Sairydwen hit the gravel with a crack. She let off a cry, lying prone on the ground and clutching at her left ankle awkwardly, her mangled hand hovering over it without quite touching.
Amira grabbed Daindreth’s arm even as the second Kadra’han studied them from overhead. “Let’s go!”
Daindreth pulled back, reaching for Sairydwen.
Amira cursed, using words to make a sailor’s blood curdle. The Kadra’han knew Daindreth. Knew he’d never leave behind a hurt woman right in front of him—even one who had outright threatened his life not too long ago.
Knowing better than to argue, Amira drew her dagger and glanced between Iasu and the Kadra’han overhead—a middle-aged man she didn’t recognize. “Grab her,” she ordered. “And let’s go.”
Daindreth sheathed his sword and snatched Sairydwen off the ground, dragging her up by one arm roughly enough that she let off another scream, but didn’t resist. He looped her arm across his shoulders and gripped her waist, holding her upright.
Amira led the way around the bend in the river, putting the huge boulders between them and Iasu. She caught a glimpse of the other Kadra’han jogging after them easily, another throwing knife in each hand.
“How soon until your friends get here?” Amira demanded, whirling on the sorceress.
“I don’t know,” Sair gasped. “You and the Kadra’han found us quickly enough.”
As much as Amira hated the idea of being “rescued” by the people who’d once tried to kill her and apparently still wanted to kill Daindreth, she didn’t see any better options.
“Amira, lead!” Daindreth panted, already out of breath from carrying Sairydwen.
She didn’t want to leave his flank unguarded, but Iasu wouldn’t want to risk stabbing Daindreth.
And the Kadra’han were in no hurry. With Iasu at their backs and the other Kadra’han tracking them from above, there was no escape. All they had to do was keep on their trail until one of them couldn’t go on any longer.
Amira wracked her brain frantically. Two Kadra’han at their backs, one dead...that meant there could be one more.
Though they shouldn’t be able to set up an ambush in the Cursewood—the forest should have separated and confused them—the Kadra’han were coming. They would kill her and kill Sairydwen and then nothing would save Daindreth.
Her heart thundered wildly in her chest. She remembered the red eyes of the cythraul, its gravelly, sulphury voice. She couldn’t leave Daindreth to that thing.
A bloom of ka flared into her consciousness from just up ahead. Amira cursed at the sight of the third Kadra’han in front of them.
He was taller than the others by at least a head, a bastard sword held easily at his side. He waited for them with his feet a shoulder width apart and a cold, calm expression that made Amira’s chest lurch. He had the look of a man who knew he was going to win.
Amira skidded to a stop and Daindreth right behind her. They stood back-to-back beneath a ledge with a tangle of vines and branches overhead, moss hanging in ropes like the matts of a beggar’s hair.
Daindreth set down the sorceress. She groaned and whimpered but made no complaint. He drew his sword. “I’ll take the swordsman.”
“Good plan,” Amira mumbled. He had the best weapon to meet the other man’s sword.
Overhead, she could still sense the ka of the older man, but he was still a few hundred safe paces off. What had stalled him?
Also, how could she sense him from that far away? She would have expected that the Cursewood would have confused and disoriented his trail by now.
Iasu stopped and at Amira’s back, the swordsman made no move to advance, either. She and Daindreth had a single advantage and that was that the Kadra’han couldn’t hurt him.
Disarming a man without harming him was far harder than the plays and ballads would have one believe. Near impossible if one’s opponent knew what they were doing—and Daindreth did. He might not be a Kadra’han, but Amira had seen him fight enough to know that he could hold his own.
“Plan?” Daindreth asked.
“Don’t die. Don’t get captured.” Amira inhaled deeply, watching Iasu.
The other Kadra’han approached at an easy walk but didn’t reach for another knife. He wouldn’t risk throwing knives again with her and Daindreth standing so close together.
Iasu studied her from head to foot, measuring her stance, her balance, the state of her disheveled clothes. “Do you remember the last time we fought, little sister?”
She did remember. They’d been children and it had been at least ten years ago, but he had won. Soundly.
Amira’s head pounded from dehydration even as sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades. She smeared her forearm over her forehead, not taking her eyes off the other assassin.
“I remember that I knocked you flat on your back,” Iasu said. “And that you cried when I bruised your jaw.”
Amira didn’t respond. He was trying to bait her.
A clang of steel sounded from behind her as Daindreth clashed with the Kadra’han at her back. She had to force herself not to turn, trusting Daindreth to handle the swordsman.
Iasu lunged, anticipating that she would turn to Daindreth, but instead was met with her dagger blocking his jab. His sword was a little shorter than his arm and curved slightly with an angled point—a kodachi.
Amira ducked beneath his sword and dodged his kick. In the instant before his foot came back down, she sent a sharp blow to his weight-bearing ankle, knocking him back.
Iasu stumbled, almost going down, but skirting to the side out of reach, regaining his balance. “Good girl,” he growled.
He came at her again as the ring of steel on steel grew louder, faster at their backs. Amira’s heart raced, but she forced herself not to look back.
Daindreth would be fine, she reminded herself. The Kadra’han couldn’t hurt him.
Iasu crouched low, left hand forward, right hand cocked back and ready to strike with his blade. He never took his eyes off her, but his eyes never stayed in one place. He flicked over her hands, her feet, her body posture.
“Use your power,” said a strained, choked female voice from Amira’s right. Amira didn’t dare take her attention off Iasu, but Sairydwen spoke from the ground, shifting awkwardly. “You’re a daughter of Istovar. This place was created by your mothers.”
“This place is a nightmare,” Amira shot back.
Iasu flexed slightly to one side and Amira shifted to mirror him, ready for his attack. She felt the gravel beneath her feet, balanced as carefully as a feather on the edge of a knife.
She’d taken on at least ten Kadra’han before, but that had been different. Those men had been weakened by feeding the spells of the empress and she’d had the advantage of surprise, the dark, their massive underestimation of her, and more than a few pillars and steps to complicate the terrain.
Here, she might have only one opponent, but he knew her, it was broad daylight, and there was only the gravel at their feet.
“It’s our nightmare,” Sairydwen answered, her voice soft. “Your nightmare.”
“Is that supposed to be better?” Amira snapped.
Iasu charged. He jabbed for Amira’s side, and she deflected while stabbing at his ribs. His free hand grabbed her wrist and he yanked back.
Amira slammed into his chest but brought her deflecting dagger back around and stabbed for his neck. He realized his mistake and ducked, but not before her blade sheared along the side of his neck, spraying blood.
Iasu brought his arm back and recoiled to strike her in the shoulder, but she was closer and jabbed her dagger for his side. Iasu let go, skirting backwards out of her reach. Her dagger caught his side but bounced off the layers of knives around his torso.
He touched the side of his neck, scowling when his fingers came away bloody. It was a shallow cut, but just an inch to the side and it would have been enough.
Amira panted, the clang of swords behind her louder and more furious by the moment, but she couldn’t afford to lose sight of her own opponent.
Iasu studied her more carefully this time. He crouched, barely moving, yet watching her with an intensity that made every muscle in her body scream that she needed to act, to defend herself. To attack first.
Iasu jabbed with his kodachi left and right, from down and above, his knife hand swift as a striking snake. Amira deflected, shoving away the blows. She caught a rhythm and alarm shot through her the instant she realized what he was doing.
He struck again in time to his beat of strikes, but this time instead of recoiling when she blocked, he struck out with his free hand. Amira expected it and had a dagger ready to meet him.
Her blade caught his wrist, jabbing under the top of his bracer. His hand recoiled and he flinched.
Taking a few steps back, Iasu swatted at his bleeding neck and the red stream trickling down his left hand. “First blood. Are you proud of yourself?”
Amira said nothing. Her heart thudded in her chest and hammered in her ears. She studied his every tilt and step for even the slightest sign of weakness, the narrowest opening that she could exploit.
One wrong move from Iasu and she could end this. One wrong move from Amira and he would end her.
“No matter,” Iasu panted, smearing the sweat out of his eyes. “Last is what counts.”
Amira struck for his side again and Iasu blocked, catching one blade with his bracer and jabbing for her torso with his own blade. Amira blocked and they broke apart again, hovering just outside each other’s reach.
Iasu tilted his head from side to side. His neck cracked and he flexed his shoulders. “Come, little sister. You can do better than that.”
Amira’s first impulse was to lunge for him, but she knew better. She hadn’t always been faster and had never been stronger than her Kadra’han brothers. While she was more than powerful enough to take on men who didn’t know what to expect, Kadra’han who were just as trained and even more experienced—
Iasu attacked again. They traded blow after blow and Amira blocked and jabbed, but this time, Iasu didn’t retreat. He struck with full force that meant Amira either had to block or be beheaded.
She raised her dagger in time to catch his blade, but the force sent her reeling. He shoved and slammed her back into the face of the cliff.
Amira’s still-healing shoulder sent a shooting pain through her whole side. Her instant of hesitation gave him an extra second and he slammed his blade closer.
Amira fought to hold the gleaming metal off her neck, muscles straining and fighting with every ounce of strength she had. She couldn’t out-muscle him, not in a direct contest, and he knew it.
She held his sword off her neck, but with the cliff trapping her at her back and the force of his shove pressing against her arms...her shoulders burned and her forearms ached. His blade came closer, closer, and brushed against a bead of sweat that dripped off the end of her nose.
Amira strained, searching for a way out, but if she kicked him, that might shift her off balance and send his knife into her neck. If she twisted, that might break her out of the lock, or it might bring his blade slicing down on the back of her neck instead of her throat.
Over Iasu’s shoulder, she spotted Daindreth slashing and parrying with the other assassin. The Kadra’han was giving ground, but he seemed to hold back less and less with each strike.
Daindreth had meant it when he’d said he had no intentions of being taken alive.
She was his Kadra’han—she was supposed to protect him. If she died, he would be on his own with the demon. And without Thadred, he would be done for. If Daindreth was taken back to Mynadra, more than just him would fall under the demon’s shadow.
She couldn’t lose. Couldn’t.
“You’re Amira Brindonu!” Sairydwen shouted it. “The blood of Eponine herself flows through your veins.”
Amira’s arms and shoulders burned, and she didn’t know how she was still holding Iasu off. She shoved back as hard as she could and fought to think of something, anything, to help.
She reached for ka, but there was only the miasmic, tainted fog around her. It slithered and seeped around her in all directions, threatening to choke her.
“This is our nightmare,” Sairydwen said, softer this time, a whisper.
Amira wasn’t sure if the sorceress had spoken at all or if it had been a thought.
Our nightmare.
Amira knew of nightmares. She’d been running from them for years.
The Cursewood was a sorceress’s nightmare. It fed on a sorceress’s fear—the fear of a poison world, a world where nature was twisted and warped into oblivion. The mothers had turned their nightmare into a shield, a weapon to protect themselves.
If they had done it, why couldn’t she?
Amira pulled at the poison fog of ka all around her. She dragged it into her lungs and pulled it into her veins.
Iasu’s eyes widened as he sensed the magic burn into her.
The tainted ka slithered through her pores like tar. Instead of flowing like golden waves, it billowed like the noxious smoke of a midden fire.
Her chest burned and her whole body ached as she dragged it in, pulling it into her in disjointed, smoky wisps.
Her throat tightened and she thought she would choke, but she forced herself to keep taking it in. She didn’t know any spell strong enough for what she wanted to do. She didn’t have a coherent thought of any incantation or shape for the magic. There was just this rotted, maggoty power.
Iasu’s eyes widened as he seemed to realize what would happen, but too late.
Amira sent the Cursewood’s infected power down on him in a deluge. She spun it like a web, knotting it around his head and then his whole body. Strand after strand, she wrapped it around him in an invisible cloud.
Iasu coughed even as Amira gagged.
She couldn’t sculpt it, weave it, or shape it as she could with any other ka, but she could shovel it, heap it on him like dirt. Amira dragged the sickening power to press down and around Iasu.
He fought back and she sensed him using his own ka to try slicing through the smog, but this was her nightmare.
Iasu stumbled back and Amira nearly fell when the pressure on her neck came off. She collapsed to her knees, arms weak and shaking.
“Amira!” Daindreth shouted, seeing her go down.
Iasu coughed, then recovered himself. He stumbled to his feet, raising his weapons to charge.
An arrow slammed into him from above, piercing his thigh. With a shout, he went down. Amira heard the arrow crunch into the gravel beneath his leg, pinning him in place.
Iasu cried out and dropped his weapon. His hands flattened on the ground, and he looked up at Amira, sweat beading his face even as he went pale with pain. “That’s cheating,” he grunted.
Amira looked up to see a man in dark brown standing over them along the cliff. The stranger drew back his bow again, aiming for the Kadra’han fighting Daindreth.
“Daindreth, get down!” Amira shouted.
The archduke dropped into a crouch without looking back.
The Kadra’han swordsman didn’t even look up before dropping into a roll and skittering out of the way. An arrow buried itself into the ground where he had been just a moment ago.
The Kadra’han archer loosed two shots after the new archers before turning and running into the forest after his companion. He retreated and Amira lost sight of him. His ka disappeared just as she became aware of several others.
Amira pounced on Iasu. She slashed the shoulder straps of his leather breastplate and held her knife to his neck as she yanked it off him. Next, she searched him for knives, daggers, poison, or any other kind of weapon she could find.
Iasu didn’t move, though he growled in annoyance.
“I’m not enjoying this,” Amira spat in his ear as she groped over his chest and back.
“You’re not my type either,” was his biting retort.
Once she was sure that he wasn’t concealing any other weapons, she stepped back. Daindreth had come to join her.
He had gone to Sairydwen and helped the sorceress to stand. One arm held her up and the other held his sword.
Amira looked up in time to see more hooded figures dressed as hunters emerge from the trees. They carried no swords and no blade longer than a skinning knife, but each was equipped with a bow and a quiver of arrows at his hip. She sensed a stronger aura of ka than usual. They were Istovari even if they might not be full sorcerers.
“Sairydwen?” the first archer called. He was probably in his late twenties with a day’s beard growth and dark hair that fell to his shoulders. He looked more than a little like Thadred and that gave Amira pause.
“I’m here,” the sorceress called back, leaning heavily against Daindreth.
Amira faced the cliff, looking up with a heavy pounding in her chest. She looked to Daindreth. He was a good ten steps from the shelter of the cliff and there were at least five archers over them with nocked arrows.
If the Istovari decided to shoot, Amira didn’t see how the two of them could stand a chance. The Istovari had wanted to kill Daindreth anyway. They might not shoot with Sairydwen under Daindreth’s arm, but what was to keep them from trying something else?
The first archer rappelled down the side of the cliff face, landing with a light thud. He held his bow in one hand, though he didn’t have an arrow ready.
“Sairydwen?” He glanced between the sorceress, Daindreth, Amira, and the Kadra’han pinned to the gravel by his thigh.
“Tapios.” Sairydwen exhaled the name in a sigh of relief.
“Are you alright?” The archer, Tapios, held one arrow lightly against his bow, but he made no move to aim or draw it.
Sairydwen looked to Daindreth, then Amira.
“Who are they?” Tapios asked.
“Princess Amira Brindonu,” Sairydwen said. “And Archduke Daindreth Fanduillion.”
Tapios recoiled and above, the other Istovari flinched as well. “You mean the archduke who—”
“He saved my life,” Sairydwen said. She pushed away from Daindreth, standing awkwardly on her own. “The empress’s Kadra’han took me hostage and did this.” She held up her mutilated hands with the steel cuff still dangling from her wrist. “But he refused to leave me behind.”
Daindreth let Sairydwen go, though Amira thought perhaps they should have kept the woman as a hostage. Not that it would do them much good at this point. It wasn’t like they could leave the Cursewood without the help of the Istovari anyway.
“Sairydwen...” The archer moved closer.
Sairydwen reached for Tapios, stumbled, and all but fell into his arms. He clutched her to his chest and pulled her back, dragging her well out of reach of Daindreth and Amira.
Amira moved closer to Daindreth, not taking her eyes off the archers above them. “Daindreth.” She kept her dagger drawn, still holding Iasu’s collection of knives and blades in one hand.
These men didn’t seem trained, not as soldiers, anyway. They were organized enough, but there was a tension and an uncertainty in them that marked their inexperience. Most likely, they were only accustomed to fighting kelpies and the Cursewood’s other ilk.
“Amira?” Daindreth didn’t take his eyes off the archers, either. “I don’t know what—”
“Are you really the archduke?” Tapios pressed, studying Daindreth from head to foot.
Daindreth glanced sideways to Amira before answering. “I am.”
Amira flinched at that admission. These sorcerers would want him dead.
Tapios frowned, looking Daindreth over again. “You’re not what I expected.”
“Short of your expectations?” Amira moved just a little in front of the archduke.
Daindreth pulled her back. “Easy, Amira.”
“Amira Brindonu.” Tapios looked at her with less suspicion, but just as much interest. “We’ve heard much of you. Queen Cyne will be glad you made it.”
Amira’s throat tightened unexpectedly. Amira hadn’t seen the woman in almost twenty years, not since her mother and the other sorceresses had left her bleeding out on the floor of a tower.
“They came to petition the mothers,” Sairydwen said. She raised her voice for the men above to hear. “So we will take them to the mothers.”
“Sairydwen, if we allow that thing into the Haven, I—”
“They saved my life,” the sorceress interrupted. “And we outnumber them. We will let them take their case to the mothers.”
Tapios inclined his head in resignation. “As you wish.” He kissed the top of her head, still holding her against him. Then he turned and looked to the top of the cliff. “We’re taking these three to the mothers.” He gestured to Amira, Daindreth, and Iasu.
“He is not with us,” Amira interjected, pointing to Iasu. “Quite the opposite.”
“Whether he is with you or not, makes no difference to me,” Tapios flinched and inclined his head slightly, as if to apologize for his tone. “Your pardon, sorceress. But we take him to the mothers.”
Amira frowned. He recognized her as a sorceress and that seemed to earn her respect from these men, regardless that they were now taking her prisoner.
“Surrender your weapons. You understand I can’t allow you to keep those.”
Amira looked to Daindreth. They were being taken prisoner. No matter what Sairydwen might say, Amira didn’t anticipate the sorceress’s goodwill to last beyond the borders of the Haven.
They would be at the mercy of those witches who had cursed Daindreth’s father, left Amira for dead, and made it clear through Sairydwen that they wanted Daindreth dead, too.
“This is what we wanted, isn’t it, my love? An audience with the mothers?” Daindreth sheathed his sword and then set to unbuckling his baldric.
Amira gripped her dagger tighter as he set down his sword and then removed his set of two knives with it. “Daindreth.” She said the name softly, desperately. She hated this. Hated everything about it.
He looked to her with a gentle set to his face. “This is how it has to be, beloved.”
Amira inhaled a long breath and dropped Iasu’s set of weapons and then her own dagger.
“Come.” Tapios signaled to the archers overhead. “I need two of you to carry the wounded Kadra’han. Reff and Inad, watch the princess. Juliander and Kove, you watch the archduke. The rest of you watch our backs.”
Amira was a little impressed as the trees moved and at least ten more archers appeared behind the rest. Their ka emerged as their shapes did and she wondered if that was a trick of the Cursewood or a trick of the Istovari men themselves.
Those above weren’t all men, she realized. Several of them were girls who looked to be in their teens and at least one woman with wrinkles lining her face. Their ka was still stronger than most people’s, but still too weak to be sorceresses.
Tapios removed his cloak and draped it over Sairydwen. “You’re safe now,” he said, rubbing her back.
Amira watched them as archers surrounded her and Daindreth. None of them drew their bows just yet, but they all kept arrows nocked on the strings.
The Istovari gathered up Iasu. They tied his hands behind his back and snapped off the arrow that pinned him to the ground. His face contorted in pain, but he didn’t make a sound. Two of the men dragged him upright and carried him slung between them, gripping his arms.
One of the archers looked pointedly to Amira and Daindreth, a coil of rope in his hands. He took a step toward them and Amira tensed.
“No,” Sairydwen interrupted. “They will remain unbound.”
“The princess is a Kadra’han,” Tapios reminded her.
“Bound to the archduke now,” Sairydwen said. “If they try anything, just kill him first.”
Amira moved closer to Daindreth at that threat. He took her hand in his and squeezed.
“Not like this,” Amira whispered. “Not as prisoners.”
Daindreth shrugged. “They were always going to have the upper hand. No matter how we came.” He let off a long sigh.
The archers finished gathering up Iasu and two young women reached for Sairydwen. They supported her on either side, careful of her wounds.
“Move out,” Tapios ordered. He sent scouts ahead and ordered a circle of guards around Amira and Daindreth. “Go quietly,” he said. “Or you’ll learn how unhospitable we can be.”
Anger bubbled in Amira’s chest, but Daindreth pulled her back.
“We mean no harm to you,” the archduke said calmly. “Not to you or your people. We will prove that to you.”
Amira let him lead her after the archers, keenly aware that all of the Istovari stayed out of arm’s reach and kept arrows nocked and at the ready. She felt naked without her weapons, as helpless as she’d felt when Daindreth had first taken her back to Mynadra. When she’d thought he meant to kill her.
“I love you, Amira,” Daindreth said unexpectedly, face trained ahead on the archers leading the way. “If this goes wrong...” He exhaled and looked to the river—the same one that had dragged Thadred and the kelpie under. “Well. Just know that.”
Amira squeezed his hand tighter. Her throat constricted and she didn’t know what to say.
They walked onward after the archers, hoping that the sorceresses of the Haven would be merciful.
