stance, the tall, strong frame.
Bran. He would face them alone.
Warn my people.
The smoke shifted and changed; it was fog, cold and thick. I shivered, hugging myself. I took a hesitant step forward and fell into nothing. I screamed, flailing my arms about, trying to grab hold of something, anything.
Warn them.
I woke up with a gasp, shivering in the cold. I lay under the eaves of a tree, Dahlia in my lap, my cloak wrapped around us for shelter.
I lay my head back down, thinking about my dream. It’d felt so real. Ruis was in danger. Bran was in danger. I frowned. Why would Bran defend Ruis?
Aaric. Grief ripped through me as I remembered my loss, and I gently rocked back and forth with Dahlia in my arms, forcing the pain away. I had to wait. I had to get the child somewhere safe.
The sky began to lighten. It was nearly dawn. It’d be best to move on soon. Without proper shelter, we needed to move with all haste. Fyrsil had been right. Leaving without adequate shelter had been stupid, but I hadn’t been thinking clearly at the time, overwhelmed by my blistering anger.
I sighed, shifting Dahlia into the snow beside me to stand. We needed to keep moving. I felt something around my neck and frowned, my fingers going up to brush my throat.
I was wearing the good-luck charm I’d given to Aaric.
28
Adaryn
I froze, my fingers touching the little beads and woven ribbon. How had it gotten there? Conjuring up my final memory of being with my husband, I distinctly remembered giving it to him. I recalled the woman who sold the charms say it was supposed to keep the wearer safe. My lips wobbled. It hadn’t kept Aaric safe.
Dahlia blinked groggily, her wispy blonde hair in disarray. I hurried to get the horses ready. My dream had been just that, a dream, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Bran was in danger. I needed to help him. I needed to focus on the living.
I glanced around the snowy landscape, biting my lower lip. We were still in the grip of winter. We’d be hard pressed to stay fed and warm in the meantime. My father had taught me how to set snares for rabbits and other small animals, but so far I hadn’t been able to catch anything. We were on our last reserves of food. We’d have to make a stop at Bleaksdale.
“We need to keep moving, sweetie.” I put Dahlia up on the horse’s back. My husband had never named the beast and had just called it ‘horse.’
I was used to Dahlia’s silence, so my heart hammered against my chest when she stiffened her body, a long, wailing shriek erupting from her throat. Her blue eyes were wide and locked on something past my shoulder.
I stumbled, spinning around in the snow, expecting to see a snow cat or wolves. What I saw chilled me to the bone, filling me with more dread than any animal could inspire.
Up on the hill that led down to the little hollow we’d slept in stood the Twyli prince. I couldn’t see his face clearly from this distance, but his stance was threatening. I felt a thread of magic and he spoke, amplifying his voice.
“I extended the hand of friendship and peace, and you scorned it.” Anger rolled off Hydari’s voice in waves. “You scorned me , the prince of Twyli. With my army, soon to be prince of the world. You won’t live to regret it, woman.”
His magic swelled and I backed away, shying from the force of it. It was nearly as strong as the sky jewel’s power, but it felt wrong, twisted somehow.
The Twyli smiled. “You feel it. The power. It is thanks to the lives of the Denali that this is possible. When you’re dead, I will take the girl. I hate admitting I was wrong, but I should have listened to my sister.” He formed a sword, the blade glowing with a sickly light, and charged down the hill toward me.
I snatched up my own magic, and pushed Dahlia behind me. It was almost laughable how pitiful my enchantment was compared to his, but I would not let him take the child.
Hydari was close, now, his features coming into
Bran. He would face them alone.
Warn my people.
The smoke shifted and changed; it was fog, cold and thick. I shivered, hugging myself. I took a hesitant step forward and fell into nothing. I screamed, flailing my arms about, trying to grab hold of something, anything.
Warn them.
I woke up with a gasp, shivering in the cold. I lay under the eaves of a tree, Dahlia in my lap, my cloak wrapped around us for shelter.
I lay my head back down, thinking about my dream. It’d felt so real. Ruis was in danger. Bran was in danger. I frowned. Why would Bran defend Ruis?
Aaric. Grief ripped through me as I remembered my loss, and I gently rocked back and forth with Dahlia in my arms, forcing the pain away. I had to wait. I had to get the child somewhere safe.
The sky began to lighten. It was nearly dawn. It’d be best to move on soon. Without proper shelter, we needed to move with all haste. Fyrsil had been right. Leaving without adequate shelter had been stupid, but I hadn’t been thinking clearly at the time, overwhelmed by my blistering anger.
I sighed, shifting Dahlia into the snow beside me to stand. We needed to keep moving. I felt something around my neck and frowned, my fingers going up to brush my throat.
I was wearing the good-luck charm I’d given to Aaric.
28
Adaryn
I froze, my fingers touching the little beads and woven ribbon. How had it gotten there? Conjuring up my final memory of being with my husband, I distinctly remembered giving it to him. I recalled the woman who sold the charms say it was supposed to keep the wearer safe. My lips wobbled. It hadn’t kept Aaric safe.
Dahlia blinked groggily, her wispy blonde hair in disarray. I hurried to get the horses ready. My dream had been just that, a dream, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Bran was in danger. I needed to help him. I needed to focus on the living.
I glanced around the snowy landscape, biting my lower lip. We were still in the grip of winter. We’d be hard pressed to stay fed and warm in the meantime. My father had taught me how to set snares for rabbits and other small animals, but so far I hadn’t been able to catch anything. We were on our last reserves of food. We’d have to make a stop at Bleaksdale.
“We need to keep moving, sweetie.” I put Dahlia up on the horse’s back. My husband had never named the beast and had just called it ‘horse.’
I was used to Dahlia’s silence, so my heart hammered against my chest when she stiffened her body, a long, wailing shriek erupting from her throat. Her blue eyes were wide and locked on something past my shoulder.
I stumbled, spinning around in the snow, expecting to see a snow cat or wolves. What I saw chilled me to the bone, filling me with more dread than any animal could inspire.
Up on the hill that led down to the little hollow we’d slept in stood the Twyli prince. I couldn’t see his face clearly from this distance, but his stance was threatening. I felt a thread of magic and he spoke, amplifying his voice.
“I extended the hand of friendship and peace, and you scorned it.” Anger rolled off Hydari’s voice in waves. “You scorned me , the prince of Twyli. With my army, soon to be prince of the world. You won’t live to regret it, woman.”
His magic swelled and I backed away, shying from the force of it. It was nearly as strong as the sky jewel’s power, but it felt wrong, twisted somehow.
The Twyli smiled. “You feel it. The power. It is thanks to the lives of the Denali that this is possible. When you’re dead, I will take the girl. I hate admitting I was wrong, but I should have listened to my sister.” He formed a sword, the blade glowing with a sickly light, and charged down the hill toward me.
I snatched up my own magic, and pushed Dahlia behind me. It was almost laughable how pitiful my enchantment was compared to his, but I would not let him take the child.
Hydari was close, now, his features coming into
Similar Books
