Page 61 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

“All hundred of them?”

“I’ve done it before.” Except this time, I can’t make multiple trips as I did from Cirilea. There’s no in-and-out privilege.

He shakes his head. “We will figure out how to defeat Malachi with Agatha and Lucretia’s help.”

My mouth drops as I grasp what he means. “I am not leaving all those scribes there to die!” Many of them had no involvement in this prophecy scheme to begin with. They’re as innocent as the priestesses Atticus slaughtered because of Wendeline.

“So that you can die? No, this is too risky.” His voice rises. I’m sure anyone within a ten-foot radius of our tent is listening to this fight.

“You know what was also too risky? You going to Cirilea yesterday!” I throw back, yanking on my pant legs. “You, taunting Sofie! She nearly killed you.”

“But she didn’t.”

“And they won’t kill me either. Have some faith in me.”

“It has nothing to do with faith in you.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as if pained. “You don’t even have a viable plan.”

“I might.” I rush to fasten all my buttons and ties and tug on my boots. It’s a scrap of a plan, really. I spent the flight over considering it.

He pauses, watching me dress. “And? What is it?”

I pull my tunic over my head, not bothering to tuck it in. “I’m still working out a few details.” Mainly, how not to get killed.

That earns me a flat look. “Am I going to like it?”

“Probably not. But it’s a good thing I’m not asking for your permission.” I fling the flap up and storm out of the tent, my fancy vest in my clenched fist.

Abarrane waits with Jarek and Elisaf next to a group of horses, their expressions revealing nothing.

“Which one’s mine?” I snap.

Our horses make a steady, slow path across the bridge toward an approaching Solange and Kienen, a row of Shadows and Ybarisan soldiers behind them. The rift is a yawning canyon beneath us, promising an endless fall should one of our horses suddenly spook.

The only concern my gelding seems to have, though, is the tiny green bird that flutters by, stirring a twitch in its ear. “What kind of bird is that?” It’s identical to the one that caught Caindra’s attention outside the gates of Ulysede yesterday.

“We are crossing over the Valley of Bones where any manner of beast may emerge at any given moment, and her focus is on the tiny sparrow,” Abarrane mocks.

“That is not a sparrow.”

“I do not recognize its type,” Zander says, ignoring Abarrane’s acerbic gibe, his hard gaze ahead. It’s the first words he’s said to me since emerging from our tent.

Not that I’ve made an effort to speak to him either.

When we meet Solange and Kienen at the center of the bridge, I almost wish she were wearing her mask, so I wouldn’t have to see the grim look on her face.

With a gesture, the Shadows form a solid, unmoving wall from end to end, those closest to the edge showing no hint of fear. Kienen and Solange guide their horses forward.

“Your Highness.” Kienen bows. “I trust you have regained your strength.”

I smile at my Ybarisan army commander. “I have.”

“Good, you will need it.” Solange holds up two folded letters. “From Nyos. The first is from the Prime. She is ordering the withdrawal of all casters and commanding them to return to Mordain’s borders.”

I steal a glance at Zander to see the muscle in his jaw tense. It’s as Solange warned just yesterday. “Will they follow it?”

“Not until I order it, which I have no intention of doing. But once Lorel realizes I am acting against her, she will strip me of my rank and replace me with someone who will do her bidding.” Everything is always very matter-of-fact with Solange.

“How long before that happens?”

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