Page 90 of Of Sword & Silver

Dario shrinks back slightly.

“You say you know nothing of his vault?”

“Of course not. I do know some things. Like where the entrance is in his keep,” he stammers slightly, as though the Sword terrifies him. “I told you I was sent by Lojad. Why would I lie?”

“Why would you lie, indeed?” I repeat, my eyes narrowed. “And his keep?”

“Things have changed since you were last in Nyzbern, Silver Tongue,” Dario says meekly. “The King of Diamonds has fortified his palace…” he trails off, looking at me expectantly. “Likely because of what happened the last time you were there.”

I preen a little. “It’s nice to know your hard work’s been appreciated.”

Lara waves a hand at the Sword and me, an annoyed rush of air sighing out of her. “Nakush says he’s our sixth, so he’s our sixth. He can get us into the city, and into the masque. The gods provide,” she says.

I wince. The gods provide. Ugh. How many times did I hear that from the Sisters of Sola after I begged them to stop hurting me or the few friends I had? The goddess provides, they’d say.

I learned to stop asking for mercy.

Sola’s mercy is little different from her punishment.

Swallowing, I dip my chin in acquiescence. I extend a hand, smiling through my misgivings.

“Welcome to the team,” I say, and he takes my hand in his gloved one. A truce.

And a sign of how I’ll keep him exactly at arm’s length because I don’t trust him, and I certainly don’t trust the damned gods.

Nyzbern by night is just as ostentatious as I remember, the jewel in Sola’s city-state of Chast. Smoke rises from the chimney spires within the city, candles flickering in windows as the sunset’s blaze dies behind the Hiirek Mountains. Nivor Forest creeps around and behind the city walls, massive trees with trunks as big as three grown men casting harsh shadows in the dying light. The newer copper shingle roofs gleam under patches of snow in the waning light, the older buildings’ copper shingles the trademark Nyzbern green with verdigris.

My hand goes to my throat, the air suddenly hard to breathe.

I didn’t think I would ever come back here. Not willingly, at least.

A sarcastic smile turns my lips up because I suppose I’m here on pain of death, just as my ex-fiancé would like. Alaric’s palace is just visible near the center of the walled city, and I stare at it for a long moment.

“What have you done with your treasures, Alaric?” I murmur to myself.

My chest tightens at the thought of seeing him again. At risking it.

I haven’t been brave enough to tell the others just how much he hates me, though I’m sure the Sword can guess, what with his firsthand experience with me.

“Time to get in,” Morrow tells me, jerking me from my reverie. He takes the reins of my mare so I can climb down. Lara grimaces, then checks herself and gives me a wan smile.

The Sword says nothing, but I can feel his attention on me. Snow falls again in pretty, soft flakes, settling in his hair before melting away.

“I lined it with a quilt,” Lara tells me for the millionth time.

“Here,” Caedia says, handing me a flagon. I uncork the top and sniff it, making a face and gagging slightly.

“What the hells is this?” I should know better than to smell anything Caedia gives me at this point.

“We can’t have you coughing in the barrel. Drink it and keep your mouth shut, if you can.”

“You know, I could just use my magic to convince the guards to let us through,” I say uneasily, eyeing the barrels in the back of the wagon we helped Dario load up this morning before setting out to Nyzbern.

“Not an option,” Lara says. “You can’t enchant everyone who sees you, and from what Dario says, you’re well known in this city.”

I roll my eyes, then blow out a breath because she’s right, and I hate it.

Gingerly, I step onto the wood surface of the wagon, slick with ice and snow from the day’s ride to Nyzbern. The empty barrel is in the middle of the wagon, towards the front.

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