Page 11 of Across an Endless Sea

“I’m on your side, cousin. But you need to be certain that’s what you want. Once you deliver her to Elatha, there’s no turning back.”

That name brings the memories flooding back and my head pounds as I remember running for my life. Caed tricking me. Then the iron…

My eyes fly open, focusing on the neck of the drake in front of me, but I don’t turn around. I don’t want to give them any indication that I’m awake. The world around us is still drenched in thick fog; maybe I can escape by catching them off guard and slipping away into the mist.

There’s a long silence before Caed answers in a softer tone. “There is no plan. Or if there is, it’s the same as it always has been: survive. Like you said, my father will decide what happens to her.

“Now keep quiet. Glamour doesn’t work when you’re giving our position away with your big mouth. We may be close, but we’re not at the camp yet.”

The camp? As in theFomoriancamp where their army is based?

No. I can’t go there.

I must stiffen, or give some sign of my being awake, because the Fomorian behind me—Caed, and it must be Caed, given the telltale buzz wherever our skin touches—sighs quietly.

“Don’t do anything rash—” he begins.

Before he can finish his sentence, I fling myself sideways, tumbling from the back of the drake.

The ground is harder than I expected, and my landing knocks the wind out of me, stunning me for precious seconds before I can shove to my feet.

Glamour. If I can hide myself, maybe I can—

Nothing’s happening.

I picture myself fading away, becoming invisible with all my might, but I can’t summon the sensation.

Why is this not working? What am I doing wrong?

I don’t have time to figure it out. I have to get away. I take my first step, then my second.

By my third, dizziness hits me. My feet and legs refuse to co-operate, and my knees give out, landing me in the mud with a hard thud.

That’s when I look down at my wrists, and everything makes sense.

“Iron,” I whisper, just as a hand grabs the collar of the coat I’m wearing and yanks me back.

“You should’ve said if you wanted to walk, little queen,” Caed purrs, dismounting his drake and splashing into the mud behind me. “I’d have allowed it.”

He’s shirtless. That’s usual for him, but the temperature has dropped now that the sun has set. It takes me a second to realise that he isn’t wearing a coat because I’m wearing his.

Did he cover me up? In his mind, does giving me a tiny bit of modesty make up for hurting my brother, killing me, kidnapping me, and burning me with iron? Because it doesn’t. Not even close.

Turning his back to me, he snags a rope hanging from the saddle of his drake and—after a brief and ineffectual struggle on my part—deftly threads it between the delicate bangles on my wrists. Once he’s certain I won’t get free, he leashes me to one of the lizard’s sharp spines.

“Keep up,” he says. “And don’t make me gag you.”

I barely have time to realise what his intentions are before he leaps back onto the drake and kicks it into motion.

My arms jerk forward, yanking painfully at my elbows. I would fall face first, if not for his fist holding me up by the collar of the coat.

I’m forced to keep moving or be dragged along. Every step is clumsy, and my dizziness returns full force until my throat burns with nausea. I have no shoes to protect me from the hard rocky terrain, and no way to hold the coat closed beyond the three buttons. I have almost no defence against the chill autumn air and less from the eyes of any onlookers.

I suppose I should count myself lucky that the coatjustmanages to cover the essentials.

“You wanted a morale boost,” Caed growls, a few seconds into this new humiliation, and it takes me a moment to realise he’s talking to Prae. “This will do. It might not be as flashy as your original plan, but I’m sure the troops will appreciate it.”

What was the original plan? Do I even want to know?

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