Page 70 of The King's Weapon

She hissed in pain as her ankle folded under her weight, a less-than-graceful landing for a queen. Leaning against the house, she hobbled her way toward the front yard where she hoped to find her children safe. Her movements were slow and each step sent a shooting pain that ran from her leg to her spine.

When she reached the front of the house, three figures were massed together as they fought over something. But as the fire grew and overcame the house, she knew she was wrong.

It was not something, but someone.

Fury sparked within her, she raced toward the bodies, her twisted ankle screaming at her and slowing her down. Still, she did not stop. She continued forward, fighting through the pain soaring through her body.

The boy lost his grip and the monster on top of the horse sprinted away with a body thrown across his lap. Long chestnut hair blowing in the wind.

Esmeray fell to her knees. Her daughter’s name on the tip of her tongue.

Kalisandre.

* * *

As the image faded,Kallie's vision darkened and the world spun again. She braced herself for the fall she now expected to come.

The smell of smoke dissipated. However, her limbs remained limp as she tried to regain control of her own body, the effects of her mother's gift throwing her off balance. Kallie didn't know how she managed to remain standing on shaking legs.

Then as her senses came to, she felt the warmth of someone's body pressed up against her. An arm wrapped around her waist, the smell of fresh cedar surrounding her. She turned her head and Graeson stared down at her using his body to keep her upright.

She jerked forward in an attempt to free herself from his hold but stumbled. Graeson's hand only tightened around her, stabilizing her and doing the exact opposite of what she wanted. Yet even though she wanted to stand on her own, she knew she needed the support—although she would never admit that to him or to anyone else.

Avoiding his gaze, she directed her attention to Esmeray. And Kallie couldn't help the water building behind her eyes, but she refused to let them surface. She had felt the Queen's heartbreak, had experienced it as though it was her own.

Kallie didn't want to ask the question she already knew the answer to, but she took a deep breath and demanded the truth anyway. "Show me."

Esmeray said nothing as she took Kallie's hand. And the world spun around her once again, blacking out, transporting her to a far-off memory that Kallie had seen time and time again in her nightmares. Her mind had always prevented her from seeing more as though it were subconsciously sheltering her from the heartache. Perhaps she had been afraid to see the truth. But ready or not, Kallie needed to know.

* * *

The smoke was getting thickeras Kallie cried out for her mother. Smoke filled her lungs, and Kallie's screams became soundless as they tore her throat to ribbons.

The person wrapped around her tightened their hold, and Kallie pumped her legs, clawed at the air, pounded the person's back. But they were relentless and didn't let go, preventing her from saving her parents.

She dragged her hand across their face, and the person hissed as she continued to fight and claw at them.But she didn't care if she hurt them. She didn't care if she died. She could not lose them.

The person ran.

And ran.

Further away from her parents.

Doors slammed. Someone shouted. And the fire roared on.

The air shifted and a breeze swept over her. The person sat her down, grass brushed against her hands and knees. She was afraid to breathe, afraid to suck in more smoke, but when she inhaled, she didn’t swallow smoke, although the charred taste still lingered on her tongue.

Kallie tried to get up, but her arms and legs betrayed her, collapsing beneath her. She crawled toward the front door, toward the flickering light. Toward her parents.

Then she heard it: hooves slapping against the pavement.

Kallie's heart rate increased. The pounding grew louder, and through the smoke, she could make out the faint outline of a horse with a figure sitting atop it.

As the horse sprinted forward, the fire swallowed the house and its rider, the bright flames illuminating them, casting the pair in a ghastly light. The rider wore an iron helmet in the shape of a bull. Two spiraling horns protruded out on each side and angled slits were cut into the helmet in place of eyes for the man to see through. A thick black iron hoop lined with glittering diamonds pierced the bull's nose. And with the light of the fire bouncing off of it, the helmet glowed red and yellow. A black cape tied around his neck by a chunky silver chain flew behind him as he continued forward, unfazed by the smoke.

She tried to crawl away from him, tried to dig her nails into the soft ground, but the rider was too fast. And when her grip failed her, she reached for the person who brought her out of the house. But as she looked behind her, the boy was face down in the dirt, his black hair covered in ash.

Kallie threw herself at him, and at that moment, the bull-headed man scooped her up. She tried to fight, but she was too weak, too frail. Too small to shake the towering man from her. Her lungs began to collapse.

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