Page 49 of Of Sword & Silver

The sooner we steal the crown and perform the ritual, the better. She’ll hate me when it’s over, and that will cure me of any rogue infatuation I have with the woman.

“Tell me about Lara,” I deflect. The horses’ hooves beat a staccato against the uneven cobblestones as we enter the town proper, people parting as we ride through the streets.

“Ask anything you want,” a voice calls out from against one of the stone walls. “I’m always happy to host a friend of a friend.”

Kyrie pulls her horse to a stop, smiling broader than I’ve seen the whole time I’ve been with her. An ugly emotion surfaces, and I frown.

“Lara, you’re here to meet us,” she says, clearly thrilled.

“Occupational hazard,” the woman says, taking Mushroom’s rope from where the mule is tied to Kyrie’s horse. “Come on, you two, we have much to discuss. It will be better to do so in the warmth of my home.”

“But, but?—”

“No,” Lara and I tell Kyrie at the same time. The raven-haired seer throws a look of amusement my way—one that fades nearly immediately, smile replaced by furrowed brows.

She knows.

A mage gifted in precognition. Of course Kyrie’s closest friend would immediately see to the heart of who I truly am.

I stare at her, my lips a thin line across my face, and she dips her head in unspoken acknowledgment.

She will not tell Kyrie my secret.

Misgivings crowd my thoughts, tinged with bitter shame.

We follow her through the crowded streets to her home on the outskirts of town. Kyrie prattles at Lara nonstop, and I wrestle with the discomfort of how Kyrie’s closest friend would willingly lie to her. Because Lara knew I wanted her to do so.

It’s for the best, for the greater good. It’s what’s right.

That’s what I’ve always told myself.

So why isn’t it enough now?

Lara’s home is instantly familiar. The thick stone walls, the thatched roof overhead, the snug furniture and cozy fire. I set our bags inside the door, my armor clanging where it sits.

I still haven’t put it on.

The main difference between Lara’s home and the cottages I’ve been to in the last century is the size—it’s rather large compared to them. There’s a front area that piques my interest, done in luxurious purple cloth, the color Nakush, god of magic, prefers. Lara quickly ushers us through, but not fast enough that I miss the pantheon statues featured on a shelf near a window.

The figurine of Hrakan stares at me, sightless, as I follow the women into the interior of the cottage.

Hrakan. God of death, of time, unknowable and a fact of life nonetheless. The Friendless One, they called Hrakan.

I swallow, my attention drawn to the two now-silent women in front of me.

If Kyrie is the blazing sun, then Lara is the moon, with sleek, near-black hair and luminous brown eyes. They are near opposites, Lara’s round, pretty face so different from Kyrie’s sharp, angular features. Reverse sides of the same coin.

So young, too, in the way all mortals are. Smooth, unlined features, clever minds at work behind eyes full of hope.

I have few lines, too, despite my age, but compared to these two… so full of life, so new?—

I feel ancient. And so very, very tired.

“Are you alright?” Lara asks. “Should we eat first? I know we’re in a hurry.”

Kyrie’s watching me, perceptive little thing that she is. “Food is good. We are in a hurry—wait. You said we. I told you it’s freakish when you act like you already know what we’re going to say.”

“We don’t have time to waste on your preferences, Kyrie,” Lara says loftily, already setting the knotted trestle table dominating the main area of the room. There are two wooden doors, and based on the exterior of the home, I assume two bedrooms that branch off from this, the main living area.

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