Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
I’m too weary to shrink from him. Hauling myself up, I edge as far back as possible, gripping the saddle.
“We’re doing this again, are we?” He climbs on.
“Isn’t that what you want? Distance?” I attempt an aloof tone, but resentment slips out.
“We will certainly have it when you fall off this horse, which I suspect will be within seconds of departure.”
With a glower, I shift forward, molding my thighs to his, focusing on all the reasons I don’t want to be this close to Zander.
He half turns, showing me his handsome profile. “As unappealing as holding on to me may seem, I promise you that breaking your neck will be much more so. And Gesine doesn’t appear to be of any use to fix that for you at the moment.”
Reluctantly, I slink my arms around his waist, entwining my hands. His body tenses against mine.
He nudges the horse’s flanks, sending her off at a gallop that rattles my teeth.
4
Romeria
“Whoa.” Zander’s fists tighten around the reins. The black mare slows to a canter, releasing a lengthy sigh, frothing at her mouth. We haven’t stopped in hours. She’s in desperate need of another break.
Same, horse, same. After galloping across the hilly terrain at a relentless pace, avoiding the road as much as possible, every muscle in my body aches, and the insides of my thighs feel raw.
“How much longer?” The dense forest of Eldred Wood is closing in around us.
“We are almost there. From this point forward, assume these woods have eyes and ears.” Zander scans the trees.
I see nothing. “Friendly ones?”
“Loyal ones.”
Elisaf follows as Zander steers our horse along a narrow and rocky trail. Gesine is conscious again and sitting upright, some of the color returned to her face.
The path grows more treacherous the farther we travel. “This is Gully’s Pass?” It was one of the route options the day of the king’s hunt. Atticus said it was safer for the horses. As I observe the vertical drop to our left, I fear what the other option looks like.
“Down there.” He points toward the valley. “But the Legion will have made camp on a plateau ahead. It’s a defensible vantage point and one of Abarrane’s favorites for hunting. She keeps supplies there.” He sounds so sure that the Legion will have made it out, yet a slight waver betrays his confidence.
The trail has grown too narrow for the horses to pass. I hold my breath and cling tighter to Zander’s waist, trying to ignore the loose stones skittering out from beneath the horses’ hooves to plunge down the cliff, bouncing off tree trunks.
Thankfully, the trail veers away from the gorge, cutting through the densely packed trees. My ears catch the rush of moving water a moment before we break through the forest and into a small clearing where a river meanders ahead.
Zander leads us to the riverbank. Rabbits hiding in the leggy grass dash away from the horses, their white tails held high. The horses don’t pay them any heed, focused on their next drink.
I struggle to dismount, gritting my teeth against the chafing of my wool pants against my skin. Where my thighs held a death grip for hours feels raw. In contrast, my backside is numb. I smooth my palms over it with a sigh that earns Elisaf’s chuckle.
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” Zander says absently, but his attention is on the trees.
Gesine is quiet as she kneels at the river’s edge and scoops shaky handfuls of water. She brings them to her mouth for a drink.
“Feeling better?” I wince as I bend down to mimic her. The cold water is refreshing, especially beneath the afternoon sun.
“Yes, much,” she says through a breathy laugh. “Though I am not anxious to get back in that saddle.”
“Same.” Louder, I ask, “How much farther?”
Zander adjusts a harnessed blade at his ribs. “This is the meet spot.”
I look around the meadow, empty save for us and the rabbits. “Shouldn’t Abarrane be here by now, then?”
I’m not the only one worried. Deep lines etch Elisaf’s forehead. “They should be here by now, if they escaped the city when they needed to.” He’s answering my question, but I know he’s talking to his king.
Zander scoffs at the unspoken suggestion. “There is no way any common soldier would be able to stop them. I’ve seen Abarrane cut through fifty men on her own.”
“But five hundred? And injured by a nethertaur?” Elisaf asks gently. “I did not sense them anywhere along the path. Abarrane would have had a perimeter set.”
I watch as the words settle on Zander’s shoulders, their reality weighing down his posture and his hope. Did we backtrack all this way just to confirm that the Legion is dead? That we’re on our own against an army that was once his to command?
“You could not sense us because you smell like a latrine,” a familiar voice calls out, followed by a faint hiss a split second before an arrow grazes Elisaf’s arm and spears the soft ground behind him.