Page 103 of Burning Crowns

He caught it with one hand. ‘You’re cheerful in the morning.’

‘We’re wasting time.’

‘You were exhausted, Wren.’

‘I’m always exhausted,’ she said, throwing the blanket off her. ‘We have to get on with it.’

‘We will now that you’re awake,’ he said, coming to his feet. ‘There are plenty of wild horses nearby. I’ll find a couple to wrangle.’

Wren stared at him. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘I’m as serious as that scowl on your face.’ He winked, coaxing a reluctant smile from her.

‘Come,’ he said, grabbing their things and stalking ahead. ‘We’re on the hunt.’

Wren hurried after him, the sudden spike of adrenaline urging her on, until – far sooner than she expected – they came across a herd of horses at the end of the valley.

There were seven of them, grazing on the long grass. Wren was about to ask Tor about his plan when he slowed his pace, raising both hands as if he was surrendering to them. Three of the horses bolted at his approach but the others remained, as though the mere sight of Tor stalking slowly through the grass had lulled them into a trance. He clicked his teeth as he drew closer and then paused,as if he was trying to decide which ones to claim.

To Wren’s surprise, two of the horses trotted towards him. The first was a black stallion with a white diamond patch on his muzzle; the other was a smaller brown mare. As Tor approached them with calm and careful strides, the horses bowed their heads, allowing him to place his palm against their muzzles. He whispered something in the space between them, as if he was making a bargain, or perhaps he was casting his own kind of spell. In any case, in that moment, the wrangler was a marvel to Wren.

To her astonishment, when Tor turned back to her, the horses followed him.

Soon, they were riding side by side, Tor astride the black stallion while Wren guided the brown mare down the sloping hills and through the rest of the valley, heading east towards the town of Glenlock.

It was mid-afternoon by the time she spied the silver lake shimmering in the distance, and the narrow houses that huddled along its northern shore.

Wren sat up straighter, buoyed by the sight of civilization. ‘I’m starving,’ she said, urging her horse faster. ‘Let’s stop in the first tavern we see and order the entire menu.’

‘You really do know the way to my heart,’ said Tor, keeping pace with her.

As they approached the town, Wren narrowed her eyes, searching for the carriage they had left behind three days ago. There was no sign of it anywhere. In fact, there was no sign of anyone. The streets of Glenlock were completely deserted. Even the lake was eerily still. The horses slowed at the edge of the water, as though they were afraid to go any further.

‘Wren.’ Tor’s voice was too loud in the silence. ‘Something’s off.’

‘There’s no wind here,’ she whispered, all too aware of her burning scar. ‘There’s no life at all.’

Tor slid from his horse, his hand coming to the hilt of his sword. ‘Stay here.’

‘Absolutely not.’ Wren hopped off after him.

‘Wren.’

‘Don’t,’ she warned.

His nostrils flared. ‘Fine.’ He pointed at Night’s Edge. ‘Hoist your sword. And stay behind me.’

Wren met him stride for stride. ‘We go together, or not at all.’

‘You really are a handful.’

‘Shush. We’re sneaking.’

They crept through the town of Glenlock, checking every empty inn and deserted tavern, peering through the windows of silent homes. Several front doors had been left wide open, as though the occupants had left in a hurry.

‘Where did they all go?’ said Wren, uneasily.

‘The better question is, what chased them away?’

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