Page 11 of The Sundered Blade

Of course, this would be the moment the night elf decided to wake from his nap.

“If you wanted me to be charming to the locals, you should have said so,” Vaniell returned, hoping his discomfiture remained well-hidden. “It isn’t my fault he was rude enough to interrupt my beauty sleep.”

“Your sleep?” Kyrion’s brow quirked. “Or your enchanting? If you choose to lie about your doings, it will not make me more inclined to trust you.”

“Whether I deserve your trust or not,” Vaniell replied coolly, “I cannot force you to grant it, no matter what I do. And I require solitude in order to focus. If you choose to question my every action and motive, I wonder that you are willing to let me out of your sight.”

“So do I, Princeling,” Kyrion responded dryly. “And yet here we are. Are you still prepared to depart at nightfall, or do you require furthersolitudefor your work?”

“By all means.” Vaniell inclined his head politely. “I have no wish to delay. The sooner we can reach Arandar, the better, so let us continue on to Oakhaven with all possible speed.”

The two of them shared a swift and silent dinner, after which the night elf checked the bindings on his pack and shifted once more into his wyvern form. He did not speak, but ruffled his wings in a clear sign of reptilian annoyance, while snapping his teeth as if to say, “Hurry up!”

Vaniell suppressed a sigh as he pushed to his feet, reminding himself sternly that this was for Garimore. For all of Abreia. He could think of no other possible reason for spending the next few days facing up to this much unspeakable awkwardness.

CHAPTER4

It had been some time since Karreya had last ridden a horse, so the first few minutes of their journey were occupied with recalling the posture least likely to end in pain or disaster. The saddle was bulkier than she was accustomed to, and did not allow her to feel the motion of the horse beneath her as much as she would have liked. But at least it required less work to remain seated—an adaptation that was no doubt useful for mounted warfare.

“Far enough,” Leisa called from ahead, pulling her mount to a trot, then to a walk. “We should be clear of the ambush. If we do not exercise caution, we’ll only wear out the horses, and we have a long road to travel.”

Though they did need to proceed as swiftly as possible. While it was imperative that Kyrion and Niell arrive in Arandar before their own arrival in Hanselm, this route would be far slower if they did not make haste.

“This is a mistake,” Senaya muttered in a low voice, but not so low that her companions could fail to hear her. “You cannot save anyone by placing your head in the viper’s mouth.”

An apt metaphor, given that the three of them were intended as bait.

But baiting was not always a poor strategy, any more than it was a certain victory. Wars had been both won and lost by confronting the enemy swiftly and hoping that he would strike before he was ready.

In this case, their enemy was Melger, King of Garimore. Or so he wished everyone to believe. But a very small group of people now knew that the present king was not actually Melger—he was not even Abreian. Rather, he was a Zulleri mirror mage wearing the face of a man he had very likely murdered.

“We cannot continue to run from this fight.” Leisa spoke through gritted teeth. Her eyes remained on the path ahead, but she gripped her reins in white-knuckled fingers, evidence of the unspoken tension between herself and Senaya—the mother she had not seen since she was five years old.

Their reunion had not been precisely amicable.

“As we explained, we will never be strong enough to confront him directly. He’s had too much time to prepare. The only hope we have is surprise and misdirection.”

And what a surprise it would be.

Karreya had not seen her father in eleven years. She had left behind her life as an imperial assassin and crossed the sea in search of him, not knowing what his fate had been, but hoping to find him and bring him home. She had certainly not expected to discover that he’d been wearing another man’s face, living another man’s life, planning to conquer all of Abreia through either trickery or force.

Perhaps at some point in the past, she would have been proud of his efforts. Applauded him for returning these lands to imperial rule, and for ruthlessly suppressing the traitors who had fled the absolute will of the Empress all those years ago.

But not now. She’d spent too much time among the people of this land. Learned to care for their well-being. Even learned to dream of a different future than she had always believed would be hers.

And yet, to achieve that future—both for herself and the Abreians she had come to care about—she and her companions must find some way to stop her father from pursuing his ruinous course. And their only hope of accomplishing that goal carried a great deal of risk.

The King of Garimore had spent years preparing for the moment when all was in readiness. When the other thrones were weak and vulnerable, ready to be conquered either by force or diplomacy. He had been building his armies and sowing the seeds of dissension from one end of Abreia to the other.

But not all of his plans had come to fruition. His plan to take Iria through diplomatic means was in shambles. The Irian Royal Council had ordered a halt to all pigeon messages, and the Garimoran envoy was fuming somewhere in an Irian prison, unable to carry any news of his utter failure. Queen Evaraine of Farhall and Queen Allera of Eddris had both survived assassination attempts, and were currently in hiding, gathering their forces and planning to protect their thrones.

But the King of Garimore knew none of these things—yet. In theory, he would be safe behind his walls, rejoicing in his successes. Salivating at the imminent taste of victory.

And so, Karreya must reach him before he discovered his error. She would tell him who she was and why she was here, and hope that the fear of being exposed as a liar and a fraud would provoke him to act too swiftly—to attack, secure in his belief that the other thrones were unstable and unprepared.

But he would be wrong. Kyrion and Niell were even now on their way to warn the other Thrones of what was coming. Her father would plunge the Five Thrones into war before he was ready, and be caught in a trap of his own making.

At least, that was their hope.

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