Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Thalia

Archer collects me just as the sun starts to rise, and we hastily saddle our horses. King prances with excitement, happy to have me on his back again. Bastien is at the stables, talking quietly with the four guards who will accompany us. I don’t begrudge him needing that assurance, although I had more than wished he’d just come himself. If anyone looks like they need a day off, it’s him.

“So, where are we headed?” I ask Archer as we plod along a well-worn path.

“One of the soldiers told me about this great stream three miles east of here. It sits near the edge of the cloak but still within the protection. In fact, the stream runs under the cloak, so unfortunately, some of the fish will be protected from us.” Archer laughs at his own joke.

I chuckle along. Fishing is a favorite pastime of mine, particularly fly-fishing. It’s how Bastien and I first became friends, and we went together a lot over the years. I fished every free chance I had when I was in Wyoming, although admittedly, running the ranch left very little time to myself. I’m excited about taking a few hours to relax and put my worries on hold.

Archer and I reminisce about our childhoods, some of his adventures in other dimensions with his mother, and even since the war started with Ferelith.

“Please tell me you have some sort of evolving plan that is going to end this thing,” Archer says. “Everyone is pinning so much hope on the fact that your return will change the tide.”

Sighing, I wish I could tell him that was true, but I just don’t know. Also, while I love Archer as one loves their own flesh and blood, I have no intention of talking to him about the private discussions of Conclave Hall. It’s nothing personal, but our plans are locked down tight, and no one outside of me, Bastien, and the Conclave know the goals we’re working toward.

Not even Kieran, really. He’s acting as a traveling ambassador to deliver messages to royal families and Conclaves. He was successful in getting the Conclaves to agree to meet in Clairmont, which will happen two days from now.

He was only partly successful with the heads of the royal houses. They all reaffirmed their pledge to me and have agreed to meet, but Prince Baynor of the House of Sorin insisted the meeting be held in his city of Croyden. He gave some excuse he was not able to leave his people unattended, which could be true of everyone, but really… it was to show his power. Baynor has the largest army, next to Kestevayne, and he is essential if we are to take back my throne.

So, Bastien and I are going to Croyden, also in two days’ time.

I’d love to share all this with Archer so he could share in the hope of our progress, but I can’t, so I stay vague. “We have some good ideas brewing, but nothing we can put into action until we figure out how to combat Ferelith’s blood magic. It’s nothing we’ve ever dealt with before.”

“She seems unstoppable,” he murmurs. “It makes me wonder if this is just the way it’s supposed to be.”

I shake my head, glancing at him fiercely. “No. I promise I will bring her down. We will all bring her down.”

Archer smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes which are too weighed down with worry. Still, he tries to stay positive. “I have faith in you.”

I’m not sure those aren’t just polite words he feels he must say. So far, we seem to be spinning our wheels at Conclave Hall, and maybe he senses that.

We enter a densely wooded area, but there’s still a defined path through the forest. We make our way through sprawling oaks whose acorns crunch underneath the horses’ hooves and blooming pressian trees of purple leaves and pale-pink flowers.

It’s a beautiful day. The sun permeates through the leaves, throwing sparkling color everywhere, so much so, I feel a little dizzy from the kaleidoscope waving before me. My mind drifts with the joy of being outdoors in my beloved Vyronas, and it’s the first time I’ve felt settled since my return.

Soon enough, we’re through the thickly wooded area and back into full sunshine.

“Please tell me you brought food,” I say, glancing over my shoulder to see the guards emerging from the trees behind us.

“I did indeed,” Archer says, clapping a hand on the saddlebag. “Bread, apple butter, and dried meats.”

My stomach rumbles. “Delic—”

A battle cry sounds from behind me, and I whirl King around. As my guards emerge from the forest, I’m horrified to see men dropping from the branches on ropes. They’re dressed in black and there’re four of them to every one of my guards, who are caught unaware but quickly draw their swords.

A quick and vicious battle ensues, a flurry of swords and energy spells. I power up, intent on throwing my magic into the fight, but the group is too condensed. I can’t risk hitting one of my own men.

Archer appears at my side, sworn drawn, yelling to get my attention. “Go, Thalia! Get out of here!”

I balk at the thought of abandoning the fight, but then Archer slaps King on the rear. “Get the fuck out of here! Go get help.”

It’s the word help that drives me to action. With my kick against King’s flanks, he bolts east, away from the melee and away from where I believe the edge of the cloak will soon come into view.

Racing at full speed and bent low over King’s neck, I glance periodically over my shoulder and see no one in pursuit. I enter the forest and cut back south toward Clairmont. There is no path here, and King has to jump fallen trees and ditches. He stumbles over one, and I nearly pitch off, but he easily regains his footing and charges on.

About a half mile from the attack, I come out into another clearing and see the path up ahead on a hill that will lead to Clairmont. The sounds of battle are gone, and I pray to the gods that Archer and the guards are able to handle the attackers. I spare a moment of thanks that I didn’t tell Archer any plans, because there’s no doubt in my mind that if he and the guards are taken alive, they will be tortured for information.

“Go, King, go,” I urge him faster, but my heart sinks when four riders wearing red and black, their helmets topped with a black-plumed feather, appear directly in front of me as I crest the hill. I have to pull hard on my reins to bring King to a stop so he won’t collide with the other horses. He rears up, but I hold my seat. With my hands and slight pressure from my knees, I direct my horse in an attempt to maneuver around the others. King spins left and back right again, trying to find an out.

“There’s nowhere for you to go,” one of the riders yells. “You might as well calm your horse.”

Like hell!

I give King a sharp kick, and he bolts toward a slight opening between two riders. They’re stunned, having assumed I’d turn tail and run, and for a split second, I think I’ll make good on my escape. But then I feel a warm, heavy sensation around my arms, pinning them to my sides. The reins fall from my hands, now frozen, and then I fly backward off King’s saddle.

The ground rises up to meet me, and I land hard on my back, knocking the breath out of me. I wheeze, trying to suck in air, and I’m afraid I might pass out. I can’t lift my head, but I’m able to turn it slightly, and I’m grateful to see King galloping away. I can handle whatever they might do to me, but I couldn’t bear them hurting my horse.

Trying to get my bearings, I figure they must have used a containment spell that pulled me right off King’s saddle. I still feel it pressing around me as I start to regain my breath. I’m unable to move much more than my head. Sick at heart thinking about what happened to my guards, I fervently hope Archer made it out of the fight safely.

The riders dismount, remove their helmets, and circle me. One squats close and waves a hand over my chest. Instantly, I’m freed from the containment spell, and I push past the nausea to react.

My hand flies out, punching magic into the man’s chest, and he flies backward. He lands with a thud as I look for my next target, my magic brimming so brightly, it burns my blood.

But then something is clamped around my neck, and I’m sapped of all power. My hands claw at whatever it is—cold metal of some sort. I find a hinge, try to figure out how it’s released, but another man leers at me from above. “Don’t waste your energy. Ferelith’s blood imbues that collar, and you can’t fight it.”

I glare at the man but continue to pull at the metal around my neck. They laugh at me and then jeer at the soldier I’d hit with magic as he struggles to his feet with a painful groan.

“What you say, Snyder?” one of the men taunts. “Did the little princess hurt you?”

The man I’d laid low—Snyder—turns my way, and I cringe from the hate emanating from him. His dark hair reaches his shoulders, parted down the middle and greasy. A thin goatee surrounds his thin lips. He strides over, grabs me by the front of my shirt, and hauls me up from the ground as if I weighed no more than a feather.

To him, that’s probably true as he’s big and muscled. His irises are so dark, they’re almost black, and he sneers at me. “I’m going to make you pay for that.”

Another man puts a restraining hand on Snyder’s shoulder. “Easy. The Empress wants her unharmed.”

“No,” Snyder disagrees. “Ferelith wants her alive. She said nothing about the condition she should be in.”

“Maybe so, but we need to get out of here.”

That seems to make an impact. Snyder releases his hold on my shirt, and I stumble backward, right into one of the other men who simply holds me by my upper arms.

Snyder looks me up and down, a corner of his mouth tipping slyly. “You look good in a collar. Looking forward to having fun with you on our trip back to Kestevayne.”

I try not to panic at his allusion but instead glean some very important information. He implied we’re riding by horse back to Kestevayne, which means these soldiers don’t have the power to bend distance. They’re most certainly relying on Ferelith for the magic in this collar, and I’m betting the containment spell is hers too. That means these men are not from powerful lines of magic and are forced to travel the old-fashioned way.

A quick mental calculation tells me that we’re at least three to four days away from Kestevayne, if we go at a slow pace with the horses, two if they run them into the ground. It’s enough time for Bastien to find me.

If only he discovers I’m actually missing. That could be hours yet.

Snyder turns and grabs his horse, easily vaulting into the saddle. The man holding me drags me over to him, and I’m hauled up and draped stomach down over his lap. A wave of dizziness hits, and I’m pretty sure it’s not from the collar but from the hard hit against the ground moments ago. I attempt to call on my magic, but it’s dead. I’ve never felt more useless in my life.

The men mount up and head out at a canter, which is torture on my ribs and makes it difficult to breathe. Snyder keeps a hand pressed down on my back to stop me from bouncing off his lap. They clearly want to put some miles between us and Clairmont.

I’m completely nauseated and dizzy, and I find myself begging, “Please… let me sit up. I’m going to vomit.”

“Shut up,” Snyder growls, apparently not believing me.

The nausea rises, and I dry heave, which causes Snyder to stop his horse so fast it rears up. He pushes me off his lap and dumps me on the ground. I land on my feet but at an odd angle, and my ankle twists before I crumple to the ground.

“What did we stop for?” one of the soldiers says as he circles back to us.

“The bitch was going to vomit on my boots,” Snyder says in disgust. “Let’s tie her to the horse and make her walk behind us.”

“That will slow us down too much,” the other man replies.

Snyder growls in anger and dismounts. I try to scramble away from him, but he scoops me in his arms, and next thing I know, I’m tossed back in the saddle, this time astride the horse. Snyder leaps back up, sitting behind me. Gathering his reins in one hand, he puts an arm around my stomach as he threatens, “Don’t try anything funny. You make this ride difficult, and I’ll tie you to the back and drag you.”

I don’t disbelieve him, so I merely nod. I’m grateful to be sitting up, and my nausea quells after a few deep breaths. Snyder kicks his horse, and we move off at a canter again.