Page 36 of The Kingdom of Flames

Celestine turned then, fleeing from the battle. She spurred her horse as fast as she could, cutting across the ravine, water sloshing up her legs. It was a terrible slowness, and when she looked back she saw two enemy riders break from the melee to follow her.

Come on, come on.

Celestine sloshed through the water. She heard them enter the ravine in pursuit.

“Go!” she shouted to her mount. “Go!”

The horse trudged the ravine; she heard the splash of the two riders getting closer. Closer.

The edge of the ravine was close. So close. She spurred her mount on, trying to keep it straight. The riders came ever closer.

“Seize her!” a thickly accented voice said behind her. “The Scarlet Lord wants her alive!”

Vermilion. Celestine’s mind shuddered with fear. The pale Lord of the Scarlet Banner. The Creature of Spring, with his long face and fanged mouth.

Celestine broke from the ravine, urging her mount on, and surged into a gallop. She would not let Encarmine’s final ribbon fall to another. It was as fast as she had ever ridden. She didn’t look back. Her eyes fixed on the darkness in front of her, the dry fields and dirt.

The riders gained on her, hooves slamming faster and faster. She heard the chatter of their strange accent, their voices like a hissing whisper. She could not be taken to Vermilion.

My crest is Encarmine’s. I will die before he takes me.

Something struck her mount from behind, a blade or a spear. The horse screamed, its pace slowing.

No. No, I won’t be taken by him.

The riders gained on her, closing the distance. She turned, eyes frightful, as their hands reached out. She saw a glowing flash of gold and black in the corner of her eye.

Then, the sound of death.

One rider was headless, the other—his throat missing, slashed apart. A blur of gold and black circled her on a mount so fast it was like a shooting star. It turned like a burning streak and barreled alongside her. Celestine tried to leap away, but her horse was falling, and she tumbled to the ground.

Absurdly quick hands snatched her before the ground broke her bones. The momentum was so fierce as she was ripped onto the saddle of a black steed. The glow above her was bright in the darkness that it took her a moment to see a face that wore it.

A cunning grin and dark eyes looked down at her as they rode faster than any horse had a right to. She recognized him. The Lord of Autumn on his throne of plundered gold, who had stolen the necklace of Lord Vermilion.

“Good evening, Lady Celestine.” The wry smile of Lord Silas looked down on her. The The Lord of the Gold Banners. His circlet was gold dipped bones and black metal. His chest was not broad like Encarmine's but slim and lithe, like a jaguar. He handled her, keeping her close as they rode and guiding his mount with expert reins. As if he had stolen a thousand people from horseback before. He smelled of a sea city and of oils and leather. His hand dropped to her leg, sliding up her dress.

“What are you doing?” Celestine shouted.

The rogue winked at her. “Stealing you.”

They rode for nearly half an hour. She couldn’t even fight Lord Silas. After a spell she stopped trying to escape his grip.

“Looks like we’re early.” Silas slowed his horse. Ahead of them a great and ruined tower glowed with a strange crimson light. He removed his circlet, transforming from the lithe Lord of Autumn to the swaggering highwayman. They pulled into a rock formation.

Her hands were bound with silken ropes, and Lord Silas pulled her from the horse like prized booty. When she stood in front of him, bound and furious, Silas smiled at her.

Are they all this lovely?

Lord Silas’s face was youthful, handsome, and darkly featured. He was like a walking grin. A smile and a wink that could lift any dress.

“What do you want?” Celestine asked. “Are you hiding here to ambush more innocent people?”

Silas laughed, his circlet on a hanging ring at his waist and he plopped down, boots and dark pants, his chest a leather mess of straps, buckles and tools. Items seemed to flicker in and out of his hands with deft precision.

“Not my style, my lady. You can thank Lord Vermilion for that ambush and invasion. He seeks your crest…” Silas whirled a dagger between his fingers and then picked at his nails with it. “And he is going to be furious, the pale cunt, when he finds I’ve stolen you.”

“Is that so?”

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