Prince of Storms by Kay Kenyon Page B

and Mo Ti leading the race, almost like the old days. But those times were gone. He had helped Titus, bargained away Inyx secrets—a betrayal so stunning she still could hardly credit it. She shouted to Riod to leave him in dust. Riod burst out of the knot of riders, a full length, then two. She heard, or felt, Mo Ti and Tarnya behind them, hooves drumming, thoughts desperate.
    Such a heavy load they all carried, of former love, remorse, and outrage.Didn’t Mo Ti understand that when you only had one person who loved you, that one’s betrayal could never be forgiven?
    He had said: If I had won Quinn’s trust, he would have given you the Ascendancy.
    You knew he was my enemy. If you loved me, you would not have gone over to him.
    You must learn what love looks like, Mistress.
    So he thought to school her in love, this eunuch, this friend of her father. Sen Ni pressed herself forward onto Riod’s spine, gripping his forehorns, murmuring, My heart, my heart, win this one for me.
    And Riod did, crossing the line of rocks three lengths ahead of Tarnya. Around them, the next Inyx boiled over the line, and then the others, in the hundreds. Amid mounts stamping and cooling, riders paid off side bets and racers crowded around Sen Ni and Riod, offering congratulations. Riod pranced in a circle, exchanging views of the race just passed with his fellow mounts. When he settled at last, Sen Ni was left facing Akay-Wat.
    â€œThird place, Captain,” Sen Ni said, grinning.
    Akay-Wat, despite her prosthetic leg, had outdone herself. “Mistress is back, and all races are sweeter!” Her gaze went to Mo Ti, who, having been ignored this long, took his cue and moved off, heading back to camp.
    Akay-Wat murmured, “Speak to him.”
    â€œWe have nothing to say. I wish it was otherwise.” Sen Ni pulled out her canteen of water and took a long drink. “Some friends remain, though,” she said, holding Akay-Wat’s gaze.
    They came into camp then, gathering around the drinking troughs. Sen Ni’s mind was filled with the sent thoughts of the Inyx, dominated by mating season now, and the pervasive worry about the nearby Jinda ceb minoral, where the former Paion had already established villages. Tensions were high for both reasons.
    While their mounts slaked their thirst, Sen Ni looked in the direction of the Scar, formerly that great amputation on the storm wall, now restored to what it had been.
    Akay-Wat noted her gaze. “Akay-Wat thinks you will go to see them, to get them to join us.”
    Geng De had urged Sen Ni to wait. He was trying to weave them, sheknew. But what if he could not? She wanted to believe in his powers, but a whiff of madness hung around the navitar.
    She looked at her good friend, grateful for her prodding. “Maybe I will go to them, Akay-Wat.”

    The word for riding was joy . At one with the movement of her mount beneath her, Sen Ni felt nothing but the ride, thought of nothing but sheer speed, and the exquisite trust of rider and mount.
    Cliffs loomed ahead, forming a destination, though there was no purpose but speed and abandon. Riod thundered on, reinforcing her happiness, making all emotions double.
    My heart , she sent to him, full beyond words.
    They had spent the night in dream casts. Riod, in the field, leading the herd in mental flight, using the combined powers of all the mounts to reach out to the five primacies. The engine is our only hope to survive. Titus Quinn has silenced it. It was time the Entire learned the true purpose of the Repel at Ahnenhoon—not as a staging ground for the Long War, but as a redoubt to shelter the engine that drew power from the Rose. Reactivated, the engine would become increasingly effective, working toward a collapse of the Rose into the final power source. A brutal solution. The only solution.
    The only thing the Tarig had gotten right.
    Sen Ni felt Riod slowing, but they were still some distance from a