The Dark Throne (71 page)

As I walked, I recognized a group of silhouettes about a little fire. My brother and his teammates tended to stay up a little later than me, maybe because they were used to functioning on less sleep than most. They all sat with their backs to me, four solid men contemplating the embers of their fire. Then I saw that Quinn slept to the side of the fire, one tattooed forearm across his eyes. I blinked and recounted, still arriving at four; the last two sat a bit apart, shoulders leaned conspiratorially toward each other. Quiet voices drifted over me. Liam and Luca. I paused, but they were too far away and talking too softly for me to make out words. The Sword wouldn’t approve of my nosiness anyway, I thought, smiling a little. I slipped away from their little camp, hoping that my brother and Luca had found good counsel with each other.

I let my feet and my mind wander, checking every so often to ensure that I wasn’t going to blunder past the sentries or accidentally set off one of the warning wards. Eventually I came to the common practice grounds, the neutral territory at the heart of this three-pronged encampment. I looked at the practice targets and picked up a few broken arrows, guessing whether they were crafted and shot by Seelie or Unseelie or Wild Court warriors. After a while I drifted over to one scuffed practice ring and traced the line in the dirt idly with my toe. I felt a bit tired, but my thoughts still circled anxiously.

“I need to convince someone to teach me that sleeping-rune,” I said to myself. I wove a small ball of light and softened its glow just enough to light my steps. Maybe the feeling of a blade in my hand would settle me. I hadn’t brought my plain blade, but unsheathing the Sword wouldn’t hurt anyone in an empty practice ground as long as I kept a tight hold on its power. The Caedbranr seemed almost happy to be out of its sheath, its fire slipping silkily under my skin but not struggling to break free of my control. I let my eyes unfocus as I ran through a few patterns. The deliberate motions felt soothing, both for my tight muscles and my uneasy mind. After an indeterminate time—it might have been ten minutes or an hour, I wasn’t entirely sure—my body was pleasurably warm, just shy of breaking a sweat. I paused and took a deep breath, switching the Sword to my left hand. Just as I began the patterns with my other hand, movement in the shadows caught my eye. I paused and watched, thinking that perhaps one of the wolves prowled this empty space at night. But the flicker of movement resolved into two figures, both lithe and graceful, one male and one female. I flexed my fingers idly around the hilt of the Caedbranr as I silently tried to identify them. The man’s gliding gait seemed familiar, and there was an echo of memory struck by the way the woman held her shoulders.

I sheathed the Sword quietly and sent my light arcing overhead with a flick of my wrist. Its soft glow caught the reddish gleam of the man’s hair and gleamed on the pale skin of the woman standing beside him.

“No need to skulk in the shadows, Lady Bearer,” said Ramel easily, though I was sure I’d surprised him.

“I’m not skulking,” I retorted. Ramel’s companion studied me with her cat-like eyes. I took another deep breath and nodded to her in greeting. “Molly.”

“Lady Bearer,” she replied gracefully, the intensity of her gaze counterpoint to her courteous voice.

I glanced at Ramel and couldn’t help smiling a little. “A walk about the camp in the cover of darkness?”

“No more unusual than the Bearer practicing alone with the Iron Sword,” the Unseelie Vaelanbrigh returned, though he also returned my smile.

“It is quieter at night,” said Molly, “and I find it easier when I am not the subject of constant stares.”

“I don’t think that ever gets easier,” I said with a little tilt of my head.

“It is very easy for you,” replied Molly, “because you are the Bearer. I am merely a half-mortal castaway.”

Ramel touched her shoulder lightly. “You know I do not like it when you speak of yourself in such terms.”

Molly looked up at Ramel and her eyes warmed. “Just because you do not like it does not make it any less true.”

“You were already very good with blades when we met last,” I said, thinking of Molly’s quick daggers at the Royal Wood. “I’m sure you’re even more skilled now.” Part of me wondered at the simplicity of the conversation—here was Molly, my once best friend, after months of separation and worry about her fate, and all I could think was to compliment her swordsmanship.

She smiled slightly. “Yes. I have learned much since you left.”

Her words carried no accusation but I still felt a twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry that I left. I had to…” I couldn’t find the words to finish the sentence and spread my hands.

“I know.” Her piercing eyes were just as disconcerting as I’d remembered, with the Fae spark still lurking in their depths. “As I said before, I don’t remember much of my life before I was made whole.” She shrugged slightly. “At first it was confusing, but only because I was grasping for the life I’d left behind me.” She paused and then continued. “When last we met, I told you I wanted to be friends once more. I had hoped that if I regained my friendship with you, I would regain some of what I had lost. But we are both different people now than we were then.”

I considered that for a moment and then I nodded. “You’re right. We
are
different people. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends now, in this world, after all this is said and done.” I let my gaze travel to Ramel too, only to find him looking down at Molly with something like protectiveness written on his face.

“If we survive, perhaps,” Molly replied. Her small smile appeared again. “I bear you no ill will, Lady Bearer, and wish you all success in our great endeavor.”

“Same to you,” I said. My right hand traveled to my hip, expecting to find the hilt of my plain blade; but finding it absent, I settled for hooking a thumb into my belt and wondering whether I should feel conflicted over the simplicity of this conclusion to my worrying.

“Perhaps we’ll see each other here again before the battle,” Molly said. I felt like I was a leaf that had been floating lazily in a stream and then was caught up by a sudden current, rushed through rapids and deposited spinning into calm waters again.

“Lady Bearer,” said Ramel gravely, a glimmer in his eyes betraying him as he gave me a solemn nod.

“Vaelanbrigh,” I returned just as gravely, letting my small smile turn up the corners of my mouth.

And with that, Ramel and Molly turned, disappearing into the shadows, leaving me to stare after them, my mind finally quiet. I touched the hilt of the Sword with two fingers for comfort, and then I pointed my feet back in the direction of the Wild Court camp, thinking that I’d certainly had enough excitement for one walk through the night.

Chapter 36

T
he next few days passed without incident, though my mind kept circling back to Molly and Ramel, and the way they’d looked at each other. I talked to Liam about the encounter, and he shrugged.

“Maybe this is harsh, but I think you wasted your worry,” he told me.

I squinted. “I don’t think it was
wasted
as much as it was misplaced. I felt guilty, which also kind of amplified it in my head. Besides, I’ll always care for her as a friend. It doesn’t stop me from wanting her to be happy.”

“Fair enough.” My brother nodded and tugged at his green and black
shemagh
. He grimaced. “One thing hasn’t changed between the last world and this one—the
dust
.”

I chuckled and listened obligingly as my brother vented about the annoyance of the fine dust that dogged us here in the Deadlands, just as it had hung about them in their faraway deployments. When he finished grumbling about the inconvenience of cleaning grit from rifles, he looked at me speculatively.

“You know, Tess, it seems like you’ve been a bit more settled these past couple of weeks,” he began. “Since that night on the practice grounds.”

I smiled. “You’ve waited long enough to bring it up.”

“I didn’t want to poke at anything that was too fresh.”

“I don’t mind talking about it now,” I reassured him.

“Good,” he said. “I’m glad.” But he didn’t say anything else for a few moments. We rode in companionable silence. Duke and Calliea’s nearby conversation about different methods of stitching drifted around us. Calliea’s winged mount half-spread his wings and flicked his tail restlessly. My brother cleared his throat. “I don’t know really how to say this. I haven’t given you advice like this before.”

I raised one eyebrow. “I can’t count the number of times you’ve told me to be careful around men.”

He chuckled and rubbed his blonde stubble with one hand. “True, but I’ve never given my seal of approval to anyone.”

I understood his meaning even as a few more pieces of the puzzle slipped into place. “I’m glad you and Luca have become friends.”

“You’re much more diplomatic now than in our younger years,” Liam said with a grin.

“Well,
one
of us should probably be diplomatic sometimes,” I teased.

“I know you’re probably tired of people trying to push you into something,” my brother continued. “And that’s not what I’m trying to do at all. It’s your decision, and if you’re satisfied with how things are, I get it. I’m just telling you as someone that loves you…Luca’s a good guy. I’d take him at my back any day in a fight, and I’ve seen how he treats you and how he treats others.” Liam nodded. “So that’s all I’m going to say.”

“Did he talk about me to you?” I asked quietly, feeling like a teenager again.

My brother grinned. “That I can’t say. Brotherly code and all.” His eyes caught mine. “But even if he hadn’t talked to me, I would still be able to see that he loves you.”

I smiled a little, but my heart fluttered and I swallowed hard. Luca was my friend, steadfast and loyal, and he also exerted a magnetic pull that was different yet very similar to what I’d felt before. I’d never been in love with someone that I also considered a friend, and I didn’t want to lose his friendship. But before my mind traveled too far down that path, the Valkyrie guard overhead whistled sharply, signaling an attack by Dark creatures. I pushed my thoughts aside and drew my plain blade, leaning forward in the saddle as Nehalim leapt forward with the rest of the warriors, eager to meet the enemy.

That night, my restlessness returned. Though my body was pleasantly tired, my hands ached insistently. I left Calliea sleeping in our little compartment, Farin curled against the bright blue breastplate.

I found Kianryk before Luca, and the tawny wolf cocked his head at me and yawned, his long pink tongue spilling over gleaming white teeth. Then he twitched his tail and loped into the shadows. I followed. He led me to the Queen’s tent but trotted past it, wending his way around a few knots of Wild Court fighters who preferred to sleep under the sky rather than in a tent. Beryk leapt out of the shadows and pounced on Kianryk; the big wolf rolled and tossed Beryk into the dust, none too gently. But the
herravaldyr
leapt up, golden eyes alight with mischief, and tackled Kianryk again. I cautiously stepped around them.

“Can’t sleep?” Luca asked. He and Chael had set up their own little enclave with a brightly burning fire dancing on a single piece of wood. The forge-runes glimmered like embers beneath the flames.

“Restless,” I said by way of agreement, rubbing one of my palms. Rialla lay a few feet away from Chael, watching Kianryk and Beryk wrestle with amethyst eyes. When Beryk glanced over at her in a pause in the action, she laid her head on her paws and feigned disinterest, her black-and-silver tail flicking through the dust. Chael chuckled, reaching over to run his fingers through the wolf’s fur, and I smiled, glad to see the lithe
ulfdrengr
at ease for once. When Chael turned back toward me, I noticed immediately that he didn’t wear his eyepatch, the scars about his blind eye shining silver in the firelight. He looked at me for a long moment, as if waiting to see my disgust; when I merely raised my eyebrow at him, he smiled in reply and then leaned back on his hands. I sat down next to Luca, wishing I could fold my legs as gracefully as Calliea.

Luca held out one hand in silent invitation, and I gave him my right hand, sighing as his strong fingers pressed into my scarred flesh. I tensed every now and again—jolts of pain throbbed through my hand as he worked on the worst scar tissue, but it was like the aching pain of a healing wound or a sore muscle.

“It’s strange, this waiting,” I said, looking at the flickering flames of their little fire. “Traveling every day closer to the final battle.”

Chael shook his head. “It will never be the
final
battle. Perhaps for some, but there will always be another enemy. Another struggle. Another fight.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes.” Chael’s good eye glittered in the shadows.

“Peace is an illusion,” said Luca.

“Aren’t you both rays of sunshine tonight,” I said dryly, obediently switching hands and giving Luca my left palm.

“We are warriors and realists,” replied Chael.

“Much like your brother and his companions,” added Luca.

“I’m glad you get along with them,” I murmured.

Luca chuckled. “I’ll always get along with any warrior worth his salt. And their thoughts on war are suspiciously close to my own.”

Now that I thought of it, the Northmen had both talked to my brother and his teammates with increasing frequency throughout the past weeks. Luca usually rode with our group, so I hadn’t thought it remarkable. But Chael always moved silently through the army, appearing and disappearing without warning, keeping mostly to himself; I’d actually glimpsed him speaking to Jess, a few days ago, and he’d been riding with us more often as the journey continued.

“And what are those thoughts?” I asked. Luca finished working on my hand and wordlessly gave me his scarred palm. I began kneading his scars as he’d taught me, gently at first and then with increasing pressure. Kianryk and Beryk appeared at the edge of the firelight. Rialla stood, stretched with luxurious leisure, and glided off into the darkness with the other two wolves.