The Silver Pear (12 page)

It disappeared inside, but Soren could still see the glow of the flames as it burned, and thought it may have collapsed.

Something blocked the weak light coming from above, and he saw the imp peering down at him.

His first, cynical thought was that if it could, it would slam the trapdoor down on them, and leave them in the dark, but it was rubbing its hands in agitation, and he decided he was being too harsh.

He ignored it for the moment, knelt at Mirabelle’s feet and burned roots as fast as he could, and at last she stumbled forward.

“Come here. Come here.” He lifted his arms and she fell into them. He swung her into his lap, tucking her head under his chin.

She felt right there.

“I thought . . .” She was barely able to whisper, and he saw her neck was covered with thin welts where the roots had gripped her.

He fisted his hands in her shirt, trying to press her closer to him, and wished he could burn the bogeys all over again.

“Can we go?” she whispered into his ear, and he breathed in the scent of her hair, lifted her off his lap and stood. He scooped her up again, holding her against him with one arm as he climbed the ladder with the other.

“They’re gone?” The imp did a little dance forward and then back.

Soren set Mirabelle gently down, slammed the trapdoor shut to cut off the dreadful smell, and then lifted her again. “They’re gone.”

He strode into the bedroom, scooped up the bedroll and walked out of the house, the imp trailing behind him, wringing its hands.

“You sure?”

He turned to look at it, Mirabelle nestled protectively against him. “I am sure.”

It seemed to sense his meaning. That he wouldn’t be turning his back on anything, wouldn’t be leaving himself vulnerable if Mirabelle wasn’t completely safe, and it relaxed.

“That’s mine,” it said, pointing to the bedroll he’d taken back.

Soren set Mirabelle down on the bedroll already laid out, flicked the one he’d retrieved beside it, and then turned to face the imp, hands slightly away from his sides.

It looked at him, blinked, and then scurried back inside its house.

As it went, Soren could hear it singing under its breath how much it didn’t like him.

K
ayla rode
a ball of wild magic with Sooty curled around her feet, skimming over the tops of the trees of the Great Forest. She lifted her face against the breeze and wished she could go faster.

She smiled at herself.

Things had changed in her life if traveling with the birds was slow.

The problem was, she had never been to Phon.

When she’d rescued Soren from Jasper’s stronghold, she’d been able to use wild magic to move herself, Sooty and Soren to a clearing she knew of, and she’d been able to use a ball of wild magic created by Eric the Bold in his dungeon as a doorway back into that dungeon.

But to use either of those ways again, she needed to have been to Phon, or she had to find wild magic that had been created by Andrei Wolfsblood. Given the hundreds of balls of wild magic that surrounded Ylana’s cottage now, that task would have taken longer than walking to Phon on foot.

So Ylana had suggested using wild magic as she had in her test, and Kayla had to admit that what must have taken Rane over a day would only take her four or five hours at most.

Sooty pretended to sleep, but Kayla was sure she was merely protecting her dignity. She didn’t like being so high in the air, but she refused to be left behind.

Kayla knelt down and rubbed her between the ears, still enchanted by the sight of the treetops stretching in all directions.

It looked like a lush field, and she had to keep reminding herself how far they were off the ground.

Over her shoulder, she saw the hundreds of balls of wild magic were still following in her wake, strung out behind her like glowing beads on a beautiful necklace.

She’d left just after midday, when Ylana had admitted there was nothing left to teach her, and the angle of the sun told her she should be close to the border with Phon.

There was . . . not exactly a line, but a subtle change in color in the trees up ahead. The line wasn’t straight, but undulated as if following the contours of a stream or a ridge, and she guessed it signaled the end of the Great Forest, and the start of the less dangerous forests of Phon.

Gaynor didn’t have any forests surrounding the Great Forest. Her father had had them cut back when too many people had wandered from the woods into the Great Forest by mistake.

Now, in Gaynor, when you saw the wall of trees up ahead, you knew you were staring at the Great Forest itself. You knew the chance you were taking from the very first step.

The wild magic she was crouched on slowed, and then began to sink down as they approached the border, and curious, Kayla turned to see what the trailing wild magic balls would do.

They began to sink down, too, one following the other.

When the ball reached the ground, Sooty shook herself and leaped off, and Kayla followed.

She stood for a moment to get her bearings, and touched the wild magic that had carried her in thanks.

She wanted to take as much of it as possible with her into Phon’s main town, Urlay.

Ylana had told her Andrei Wolfsblood was cut from the same cloth as Eric the Bold, and was just as dangerous, although not as powerful. Not yet.

Whatever Rane had managed to discover about Andrei, she wanted to be strong enough to take him on.

She’d have to call wild magic over the invisible line the sorcerers had made, beyond which wild magic was banned.

She’d discovered, when she infiltrated Jasper’s stronghold on the edge of the Great Forest, that the border was not as solid as the sorcerers believed. It was porous, and she could draw wild magic through it in thin, wispy threads.

She looked down at herself, still in trousers, shirt and riding boots, and decided she would draw too much attention in Urlay dressed as she was.

For the first time she used wild magic for something seemingly trivial, to create a new dress for herself.

She made it purple, imagining one of the fine dresses she wore at her father’s castle in Gaynor, and felt the ripple of excitement, glee, even, from the wild magic as it rushed to oblige her.

It seemed to like pretty things.

She changed her hair, too, and wished she had a mirror so she could watch it lift and twist into the complicated, high style so favored by the ladies of the Gaynor court.

She kept her boots on. They were well enough hidden by her long dress, and she wasn’t prepared to walk through the forest into Urlay in dainty slippers.

She stepped over the border line, and then called the magic to her, imagining it as tiny jewels in her hair, beads around her neck and arms, and little gems on her dress.

She watched wild magic press itself against the border and find the tiny holes and cracks, wafting toward her like smoke from a fire.

It settled on her, making itself look like tiny purple seed pearls and gems in the shape of flowers, butterflies and birds on her dress, and purple flowers in her hair.

It became earrings and necklaces and bracelets, even a small half-crown, until she was seemingly weighed down with jewels, although all she could feel was wild magic’s warm, friendly touch.

It was a lot, but she was afraid it wouldn’t be enough against someone like Andrei, and so she imagined a cloak as well, and slowly, enough wild magic seeped through the barrier to give her one with a deep hood that covered her from neck to floor.

Wild magic also drifted toward Sooty, forming a thick jewel collar around her neck. She shook herself irritably, but then ignored it and went to sniff at the trees.

Kayla stepped onto the path, but looked back one last time.

Wild magic was stretched along the invisible barrier in a long line, pressed up against it, and her heart lurched at the sight it made.

She waved, and it shivered in response. She was suddenly struck by the similarity with Ylana, and how she had made the trees shiver before she’d declared herself ready to fight with Kayla.

Kayla was ready to fight, too.

She turned back to the path and started walking, Sooty at her side.

H
e needed
to get rid of his knife.

Rane walked easily between two guards and wondered how he could do that without being seen.

The knife would be invaluable to him in the castle, especially if Vik intended to lock him away, but there was little chance he’d be allowed to keep it when they searched him, and they would.

Getting it back if Vik took possession of it would be a problem, and Rane was determined not to lose it.

Better it lie off the path under a bush in the forest until he escaped and came to fetch it.

He’d done it before.

Too many times, he decided wearily.

Being captured and taken prisoner had become too much of a pattern in his life.

He and Kayla needed to end this war before it began and start living a real life.

He slowed to a stop and the guards around him jostled as they had to stop, as well.

Vik turned to him, frowning, and Rane allowed himself a sheepish grin.

“Spent the morning at the inn listening to the gossip on Andrei, trying to find out if my brother was here, and I drunk too much cider. Being thrown about by Andrei’s ward a couple of times didn’t help, either. I need a moment.” He indicated the trees.

Vik’s frown deepened. “We’re close to the castle.”

Rane shrugged. “I doubt you are going to let me use the facilities the minute we get there.”

Vik smiled at that, and flicked his hands at the tree Rane had indicated. “True enough. Don’t expect privacy.”

Rane shrugged again, as if he didn’t care, either way, and walked off the path, two guards trailing him. There were plenty of exposed roots and he was easily able to stumble over them and palm his knife from his boot.

He fumbled with his trousers, and looked around, glad he genuinely had had the cider at the inn and was more than ready to answer a call of nature.

There was a bush whose branches brushed the ground right next to him, and when he was done, he looked around on the forest floor and stood hard on a broken branch as he turned.

The crack of the wood giving beneath his boot proved a nice cover for the sound of his knife falling through the thin branches and hitting the ground.

The guards didn’t even flinch at the sound, and Rane stepped back on the path with a mixed sense of worry and relief.

His knife was a fearsome weapon, one they would need to take on Eric, Nuen and anyone else. They’d already lost the golden apple. He would not lose his knife to Vik the Steady if he could help it, even if it meant it would be harder to escape.

Vik was right about being close to the castle. They reached it about ten minutes later.

It was a similar size to Kayla’s home in Gaynor and as they neared it, Rane compared the two.

Vik’s castle had a chunkier, sturdier look than the more whimsical spires and turrets of Kayla’s, but the people within seemed just as content as those in Gaynor, if a little less prosperous.

Rane knew Vik’s father had warred with some of the countries to the north, trying to get back the land his wife had brought to their marriage as part of her dowry, after it was invaded by first one and then another of the small, fierce nations that carved out a life for themselves in the icy lands.

Vik himself had the look of a northman about him, with the high cheekbones and pale blue eyes of his mother’s people.

From the gossip he’d heard at the inn, Vik’s father had stripped the wealth from Phon to pay for his wars and now he was dead, his son was trying to restore the country’s fortunes.

It made Vik easy to like, even if he was currently escorting him under guard through his castle gates to be questioned.

Perhaps it was time to come clean.

“You are making a mistake.” Rane glanced across at Vik, walking level with him. “I’m betrothed to Kayla of Gaynor, and I don’t think you want this lying between us one day when I become king.” He had never considered seriously going through with his marriage to Kayla when he’d first won her hand. Had thought it would be the last thing she would want, too. But things had changed, and if being with Kayla meant being King of Gaynor, he would do it.

Kayla would never walk away from her people, and he would never again walk away from her.

Vik raised his eyebrows, and something crossed his face. Embarrassment and suspicion, in equal measure. “Betrothed to Kayla of Gaynor? I think not.” Then he shook his head and laughed. “That trick won’t work to rile me.”

Rane frowned, not understanding his response. “I’m just warning you. I don’t have time for delay, I need to find my brother as a matter of urgency, and if something happens to him, and I could have saved him but didn’t because I was imprisoned by you, I will hold you responsible.”

Vik paused. “What does that mean? Let’s say, for argument’s sake, you are betrothed to that stuck-up, condescending princess of Gaynor, and you do find your brother has come to harm, what would you do about it? Go to war with me?”

Rane shook his head. “I don’t put other men’s lives in danger for my own ends. I’d hold you personally responsible.” He walked a few steps. “And do not insult Kayla of Gaynor in my hearing again.”

Vik laughed. “I like you. I don’t believe you, but I like you.”

They had crossed the courtyard, and one of the soldiers opened the huge double doors into the castle.

Vik indicated that Rane should precede him through it. “I don’t plan to hurt you, but you will tell me, in detail, what you know of the sorcerers you mentioned, and if I’m satisfied you’ve told me the truth, I’ll send you off to Halakan with a horse and an armed guard. You can stop at Gaynor on your way and say hello to your princess.”

Rane didn’t tell him he wouldn’t be traveling the long way round, going through Therston, Gaynor and up through Klevan to get to Halakan, that he’d be cutting directly through the Great Forest itself.

If Vik was interested in him now, he’d be a lot more interested if he had that information.

A woman was waiting at the bottom of a sweeping staircase as they stepped into the hallway.

Servants bustled about, but she stood still and regal, in a long, beautiful dress of green silk. Her black hair was unbound, hanging down her back. She was not beautiful, not in the way Kayla was, but she was compelling, her face strong and alive with intelligence.

The new queen of Phon.

Being from Therston, Phon’s direct neighbor, Rane knew she’d been married to Vik for just over a year. She’d had to journey through Therston to reach her new husband, and although many had lined the way to catch a glimpse of her, neither he nor Soren had been one of them. He’d had no interest in Vik or anyone else’s private affairs.

Elanie Navaar was from one of the noble families of Tibalt, a country on the eastern border of Klevan, and he imagined Tibalt saw a benefit to aligning itself with Phon through marriage as a way to gain entrance into the tight-knit countries of Middleland, with their strong agreements and alliances.

Agreements and alliances Eric, Nuen, Gerald and Andrei wanted to break and render, so they could call the whole of the Middleland their own.

“Armed soldiers in the hall?” Elanie asked Vik, and Rane thought the big man’s cheeks flushed.

“You two, stay.” He pointed to the two men on either side of Rane. “Everyone else, go.”

The guards filed out, and Vik bowed to his queen. “I will be in the cellar.”

The queen looked at Rane thoughtfully. “I’m afraid not.”

Vik raised a brow, and Rane had the impression the war of wills between them was not only ongoing, but stimulating to them both.

“I’ve been waiting for you to get back, my lord.” She pinned her husband with an angry look. “My father’s messenger arrived while you were out, and he has urgent news.”

Vik looked at her sharply, then turned to Rane. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a little longer than I expected before you can be on your way, Rane De’Villier. But I will be with you as quickly as I can.”

Rane shook his head. “I need to go now, your majesty. Please understand I have no time to lose.”