Page 7 of The Sundered Blade

“Do not die, Abreian.” Karreya glared at him fiercely. “And do not let anyone else stab you.”

“Don’t worry.” Niell grinned crookedly. “The only one who gets to stab me is you.”

Yes. She would make sure of it.

But before she could offer any answer, a high-pitched whistling sound cut through the pre-dawn quiet.

With a sharpthunk, an arrow embedded itself in a tree not more than an arm’s length from Leisa’s head.

Leisa dropped flat on the ground, searching the dimly lit forest around them for the source of the attack, while Senaya darted to secure the horses. Kyrion, too, crouched low, his eyes glowing with bright, silvery light as he scented the air.

“Go!” he growled. “Whoever it is, I will hunt them until there are none left to follow you.”

With an oath, Leisa leaped up, seized her pack, grasped her horse’s reins, and flung herself into the saddle. Senaya, too, made ready to leave in a swift, efficient fashion, and then it was only Karreya who remained standing there, staring at the self-named Wastrel Prince of Garimore.

Who was staring at her in turn, eyes wide and lips parted, but without any form of jest or words of farewell.

Was this goodbye? The last memory she would ever have of him?

But even as another arrow whistled overhead, Niell’s lips turned upwards in a smile, and he nodded once.

“Don’t even think about disappearing,” he said. “No matter what happens, I will find you.”

He would not be able to find her unless she wished it, but he would try, and the thought warmed even the deepest, frozen corners of her heart.

Even if she could win no other part of this war, even if nothing else she fought for was possible, she would do whatever was necessary to ensure that Niell would be safe. Even if she could not keep him for herself, he would be alive and someday he would be happy.

Karreya swore it to herself even as she leaped onto her horse’s back, threw one last glance over her shoulder, and then urged her mount into a run. Leisa led the way down the faint forest track, followed by Senaya, as Karreya brought up the rear, racing away as swiftly as the dim light allowed.

Into an unknown future. Towards a shapeless, shadowed destiny.

She had confronted the unknown many times, but never before had she feared that neither her training nor her daggers would prove equal to the task ahead.

CHAPTER3

Kyrion glowered after the racing horses for a mere instant before turning to glare at Vaniell.

“Stay,” he growled.

Vaniell was only too happy to agree, but the night elf had already disappeared between the trees before he could murmur his assent.

He turned to assess his surroundings and decided that these woods were more than a little unsettling. There was nothing to see but gnarled trunks that dripped with moss, and the air was thick with the smells of damp, swampy earth. It was still quiet this early in the morning, but for the occasional call of some mysterious swamp creature and the meaty thud of a body hitting the ground. He heard a quick cry of pain, the thwack of an arrow against a tree, and then silence.

He probably should have moved somewhere else—dropped to the ground, hidden behind a tree, anything but stand in the middle of the clearing like a useless lump—but Kyrionhadsaid to stay. And everything hurt.

Perhaps his pride in particular. Vaniell had considered the King of Garimore to be his own personal burden for so long, and yet, he’d just watched three other people ride off to confront the man. The plan made sense when they’d plotted and discussed it with the Irian Royal Council, and he’d even agreed with his own part in it. So why did it now feel as if he’d abdicated his responsibilities and sent others to clean up his mess?

As if he were so useless and untrustworthy that he’d been left under Kyrion’s watchful, glowering eye.

It was not true… At least, not exactly. Vaniell would have his own part to play soon enough. He simply wasn’t very useful when it came to protecting himself from an ambush in a strange forest right after expending most of his magic to kill a tentacled monster that had wanted very badly to eat him.

After a long, heartfelt sigh that was really more of a groan, Vaniell shuffled to the nearest tree, set his back to it, and slid to the ground, leaning his head against the rough bark before closing his eyes and wondering whether there was time for a nap. Kyrion had wanted to lie low until nightfall, lessening the chance that his wyvern form would be seen.

But that had been before the attack. Before…

Something sharp jabbed Vaniell in the stomach, jerking him out of his exhausted stupor and back to the reality of an unfamiliar forest that seemed to have vomited people.

More specifically, Garimoran soldiers.

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