The Deadwalk by Stephanie Bedwell-Grime Page A

Madness bubbled to the surface. He yanked her to her feet. “I was
willing to be merciful and offer you a moment's rest. But I've changed my mind.
Wouldn't want your loyal subject, the late Captain Nhaille to come sneaking up
on us.” He shoved her toward his horse. “Be thankful you are riding. I could
just as easily drag you along behind me.”
    Once again slung over the saddle, Riordan craned her head for a view of the
horizon. Instead of the predictable featureless sky, a thin line of purple
became visible.
    The magenta mountains. At last.
    Now would be a good time to begin formulating a plan. A vague memory of
running through crystal corridors flashed through her mind. Was the vision
destiny in waiting. Or merely one of the many cruel outcomes fate had yet to
decide for her?
    Riordan cast a glance behind them. Are you still there, Nhaille? What would
you do in my place?
    But there was only the endless wind and the shifting sand to answer her.
    Nhaille would never have gone to Kanarek, her conscience whispered. Nhaille
would have died for Kanarek's revenge. And she’d thrown the best of his
intentions to the wind.
    Don't you worry, she told the quiet desert. I'll find a way out of this. I'll
find a way to fix it all. Somehow.
    #
    When he found her, he would throttle her within an inch of her life. And then
he would bury his face in her hair and weep with gratitude.
    Nhaille swore loud and long. No one could hear him over the ceaseless wind.
Somehow it didn't make it any better. He had only to glance back at Riordan's
riderless horse that trotted obediently behind him to feel a pang of unbearable
remorse.
    “Nineteen years!” he roared into the wind. “Nineteen years of watching and
waiting. Not even five days on the road and all is lost.”
    Gods above, he'd spent all those years teaching her obligation, concern for
others. And she'd thrown it all away, worrying about him.
    “Why didn't I teach her selfishness?”
    Images of what a madman like Rau could do to a young woman naive in the ways
of men twisted in his gut. Her father's face flashed before his eyes, fierce and
condemning.
    Nhaille's eyes closed in a fervent prayer. “Forgive me, Arais. I should never
have let her care for me.”
    #
    Rau's snores shattered the silent night. Riordan stared at him lying face up
in the moonlight and swore. Oblivious to her venom, the Prince slept on.
    Struggling with the leather thongs that bound her only irritated her chafed
skin. Resigned, she wormed back under the blanket and tried to sleep.
    Another snore shot her eyelids open. As good as shouting our presence to the
world! Can you hear him, Nhaille? Are you still out there? There'd be hell to
pay once he found them. Riordan wasn't sure whom she pitied more, Rau or
herself.
    She forced her eyes shut. Exhaustion won't help the situation. An awesome
rattle issued from Rau's throat. Riordan groaned.
    Throwing off the blanket, she contemplated heaving something big at him. An
impossibility with her arms and legs bound.
    Her sharp curse didn't register. Nor did the scoop of sand she flung after
him with her heels. Finally, driven beyond the bounds of good sense, she
squirmed until she rested on her knees and elbows and inched toward him.
    A bolt of white fury shot through her as she gazed down at him. Arrogant
swine! What gives him the right to sleep so peacefully after what he's done.
Does he think me such a fool that I wouldn't consider smothering him in his
sleep? Riordan shuffled closer. If I fell across him -- he could easily throw me
off. He must outweigh me by at least three stone. She looked down at the sword
in Rau's hand even as he slept. What if I kicked the sword away first? But what
would I smother him with? A blanket?
    Another thought occurred to her. In the darkness, Riordan smiled. Sleep
soundly, Prince.
    She leaned forward, positioning the tip of Rau's sword between the leather
thongs that bound her wrists. Rau snorted.