Page 53 of Silver in the Bone

“Is that ... ?” Cabell began, spinning around.

The horses and their riders charged at a full gallop, sending the remaining monsters scattering like rats back the way they’d come, seeking the cold relief of the dank water.

The flames illuminated the knights’ silver armor as they circled the barrier, bows at the ready. Their horses stomped and pawed at the ground, shuddering with the unspent exertion. Five in total.

“Release your magic, sorceress!” one of them shouted.

Neve startled at the vehemence of the words and didn’t do as she was told. If anything, her magic burned brighter than it had before.

The same knight sheathed his sword with a sound of quiet fury. The others waited, slashing and shooting at any mindless creature that dared to approach us again. When Neve still didn’t drop the shield, the first knight reached up, ripping his helmet off.

A long silver braid, shining bright as the sword in her hand, spilled from beneath it. The face that stared down at us from her black horse was pale and freckled and young—not the grizzled, scarred man I’d been expecting.

“I said,” the young woman ground out, “release your magic, sorceress.”

Emrys was the first to shake off his shock. “Not to be an ungrateful wretch, but won’t that roast us alive?”

“Our fire will not harm you,” said another, removing her own helmet. She was dark-haired and dark-eyed, her tight curls fluttering around her head with the foul breeze. Her skin was a rich brown, save for the place where a raised pink scar ran down one cheek, and her expression was coolly reassuring.

The others followed. All young.

All women, it seemed.

“Unless you want to die here with the rest of the travelers, I suggest that you come with us now,” she continued. “We will take you to safety.”

“Not the sorceress,” the silver-haired one snapped. “They can devour her.”

“Cait,” another admonished.

“Who are you?” I managed to get out.

“I’m Caitriona of the Nine,” the girl with the strange silver hair said. “These are my sisters. I do not know how you’ve come here, but I can tell you that this is no place to die.”

“And where is this place, exactly?” Emrys asked politely.

Some part of me—some small, hated corner of my heart—had held on to a dying ember of belief that Neve might have made a terrible mistake. That she had somehow brought us to another realm, another place far from the one where Nash was trapped with the ring.

That same ember was crushed beneath the heel of the girl staring down at us, suspicion creasing her brow. Neve’s magic faded like a hurricane easing to a gentle fall of rain.

“Do you not know it by sight?” she asked sardonically, pulling her helmet back on. “You have found the blessed isle of Avalon.”

We rode across the misty isle in a ferocious storm of galloping hooves and clattering armor. No one had said a word since leaving the clearing, and none of the others had bothered to give us their name. I could practically feel their eyes shifting to Neve again and again, the outright hatred that radiated from them like our breath fogging the air white.

We had all accepted having our hands bound yet again as the condition for riding with them—accepted being the only option aside from being left there to be eaten.

Neve had been placed behind Caitriona of the Nine. All the priestesses rode stiff-backed because of their metal cuirass—a chest plate that extended around their backs—but with Caitriona, the armor seemed to conform to her body instead of the other way around.

We passed through a maze of dark wilderness and mist. My inner thighs were soaked through with the horse’s foaming sweat and from the strain of having to squeeze them tight to keep from being bucked off.

“You can hold on to me,” my knight said quietly. “I’d rather not have to stop and pick you up if you fall and crack your skull, if it’s all the same to you?”

I snorted. “Fine by me.”

My hands were only loosely bound, which made it easier to grip the bottom edge of the armor around her back.

“Do you have a name, or are you just of the Nine?” I asked.

Now it was her turn to snort. “Betrys. Of the Nine.”

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