Page 48 of Of Sword & Silver

He doesn’t answer, just kicks his heels into his horse’s side, sending the great black horse pounding down the snowy trail towards Lara and Effingwich.

It’s answer enough, even if it’s not the answer I wanted.

Not at all.

15

THE SWORD

Effingwich.

I haven’t been here in… two centuries, I think. Maybe more. Time passes differently for me.

It certainly did not look like this the last time I was here.

Or maybe it’s Kyrie next to me, on the chestnut mare that’s every bit as spirited and alive as she is. Maybe it’s seeing it through the mortal’s green, wide-eyed gaze that endears me to it.

The village, a three days’ journey from the barrow, sits in the cradle of the Hiirek Mountains, a snow-dappled valley housing the town that’s somehow become much larger than I remembered.

Thatched roofs on homes rise from the Heskan earth like forest mushrooms. Smoke plumes from hundreds of stone chimneys, the scents of humans and food and all sorts of animals living in close proximity growing stronger the closer we ride to the small city.

The noise grows too, the sound of music and happy singing evident as we approach the hold.

“Is there a festival?” I scour my brain for a memory of what festival would fall now, this close to midwinter, but the knowledge eludes me. Another sign that I am not who—or what—I once was.

Letting myself fall victim to Sola, letting the lure of vengeance blind me, led to this.

I am a victim of my own hubris.

Kyrie’s voice tugs me from my dark memories.

“No festival. A market day, from the looks of it.” One glance shows she’s positively gleeful at the prospect.

“No thievery,” I tell her.

Her smile disappears, replaced by a pout. “Why not? They’re only too happy to part with their coin.”

“I have coin. What do you need more for?”

She coughs again, the hacking worse than ever, and when she catches her breath, her face seems paler than ever.

Fear spikes through me.

Not for her though—for me. For all of Death’s followers. What happens if we don’t secure the Crown of Sola in time and perform the ritual, stopping her curse?

What happens to me?

That must be why my chest aches with the thought of it.

“I’m fine,” she says, all grouchy lies.

“Right. Is it a tincture you’re wanting to buy?” I know the question will needle her and it does, causing her to scowl. “A health draught? An unguent?”

“Shut your mouth,” she says, sassily throwing her head. Her hood slides off as a result, her hair shining in the light of the setting sun, picking up all the colors in the sky, blazing with them, brilliant and bright.

Breathtaking.

“I didn’t expect you to listen,” she glances sidelong at me and I belatedly snap my mouth shut, embarrassed to have been found staring at her.

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