Page 21 of The Queen's Shadow

The door shimmered behind them in the moonlight. It flickered again like it had back in the cave, and Cassandra caught a whiff of sulfur as tendrils of black strayed across its face. There was a strange crackling noise, and then the door winked out entirely, leaving nothing behind but the empty metal frame.

They both stared at it for a moment, and a mix of relief and horror rolled through Cassandra like a tidal wave. A strange, wholly inappropriate laugh bubbled up from somewhere in her belly, and she had to force it back. They were alive. They were alive. Any later and they wouldn’t have made it out at all.

Arphaxad’s face was as streaked with soot as hers was, but even with his usually dark hair ashen and his olive skin pale with dust, he was just about the most wonderful thing she had ever seen.

“Where do you think we are?” she asked. The moon was full, and even in this darkness, she was able to make out the ragged old-growth pines stretching out around them.

“The enclave must have made it here for a reason,” Arphaxad said.

Cassandra nodded. “The trees look the same as they did on the ridge above the valley. We can’t be too far from the enclave.”

Arphaxad stared down the slope for a moment, his lips pursed.

“There’s a river or steam of some sort below,” Cassandra continued, watching him. She knew enough about the Malathi pass, but this was Arphaxad’s territory.

His head snapped up. “I think I know where we are,” he said, and struck out down the slope toward the sound of the moving water.

Cassandra followed him, careful not to lose her footing in the darkness and send them both tumbling down the slope. She was the queen’s shadow, but she wasn’t invincible as she had so recently learned.

The high summer chorus of cicadas rose through the forest, interrupted intermittently by the quick chirp of a toad or the soft bray of a deer somewhere in the trees. Cassandra knew that cougars moved through these parts of the woods as well, and she kept her hand on the knife Karim had slid to her before he left the cave. She’d never expected that sort of kindness from one of the betraying Inetians. Perhaps it had been pity. She wondered if he’d made it out in the end.

They reached the bottom of the slope where a shallow river glittered in the moonlight. A thick hedge of ferns lined the banks on either side, and she could see the dark, glistening mounds of rocks dotted through the moving water. Suddenly, Cassandra realized how thirsty she was. Without a second thought, she followed Arphaxad to the edge and dipped her fingers into the icy water. She splashed water on her face, trying to get as much of the grime off as she could before scooping the water into her mouth. It was cold, tasting faintly of snowmelt from higher in the mountains.

She sat back on her heels for a moment, watching Arphaxad as he drank like a dying man. She grimaced. Perhaps he was. They had to get him medical attention for his shoulder. He was still losing blood, though the flow seemed slower now.

Arphaxad looked up at her, his eyes shining. “This has to be the Malathi river,” he said. “If we follow it down, we should end up at a Mediran military outpost.”

Her heart gave a thud. A Mediran military outpost. One of the last places she wanted to be. “Great,” she said, mustering as much cheer as she could. “We need to get your shoulder looked at.”

They made their way along the riverbank, keeping their eyes peeled for any movement in the trees. With the doors in the cave destroyed, she didn’t think the chanters would be moving in these parts, especially at this time of night. But she couldn’t know for sure. And after what they’d just been through, they couldn’t take any more chances.

Exhaustion ground deep into her bones as they rounded another bend in the river. Arphaxad stopped, and she slowed her pace behind him. Finally, through the trees, there was a haze of orange enchanted orb fire and the outline of a tall wooden fence. The outpost.

Arphaxad gave a whoop of triumph. “We made it!”

Cassandra said nothing. He had every right to rejoice. They had survived the impossible. But she wasn’t certain a Mediran outpost in the mountains could ever be considered safe for the Rendran queen’s shadow.

But right now, she didn’t particularly care, as long as they dressed Arphaxad’s wound and let her sleep for a year. Maybe two.

The outpost wasn’t large, not in this remote of an area, but Cassandra could see sentries with bows posted along the walls, peering into the forest. She and Arphaxad darted onto the wagon-rutted road as they neared the outpost, and Arphaxad raised his good arm as they stepped slowly toward the shuttered gates.

“Who goes there?” one of the sentries called from his post on top of the wall.

“I’m Arphaxad Ilin Serra,” Arphaxad said. He reached beneath his shirt and pulled something out—it glinted gold in the moonlight. “I bear the seal of the king.”

Cassandra’s lips curved. Another thing the inept Inetians had missed when they’d searched them.

There was silence for a moment, followed by the scrape of a metal bolt being drawn back, then the gate creaked open enough to let a person pass through.

“Arphaxad?” A tall, broad-shouldered man with a thick beard stepped out from behind the gate. “It’s been an absolute age. I didn’t expect to see you in these parts for—” His eyes widened as he took in the blood darkening the bandage around Arphaxad’s shoulder. “By the Archer, man, you need a doctor!”

“I think you’re probably right,” Arphaxad said. He took a stumbling step forward and collapsed.

Chapter 8

Cassandra darted forward as Arphaxad slumped to the dirt. The man at the gate was beside them in an instant, reaching for Arphaxad’s wounded shoulder.

“Careful,” Cassandra said. “He’s had an arrow in the back.”

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