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He dips his head. “I know. I can do that kindness for you if there’s no other choice.”
Stavros opens his mouth to speak again, but at the same moment, Rheave jerks straighter in the corner where he was lounging. “I hear something. Other horses… coming this way.”
Casimir swivels to grab the reins. We’re just coming up on a low hill—it’s impossible to see what’s on the other side.
As soon as we all fall silent, a faint clopping reaches my ears, getting louder in the several seconds while my pulse hammers at my ribs.
Then a voice lifts, also distant but still audible. “That tree over there looks kind of strange, huh? You think a riven could’ve done that?”
My spine goes rigid.
Casimir’s head whips around, scanning our surroundings. He nudges our horses off the road.
While it’s mostly open fields on our side of the hill, there’s a small patch of trees off to our right. It’s too densely clustered for us to pull the cart between them, but Casimir steers us in that direction.
The grassy terrain partly muffles the hoofbeats of our own animals. Tinom’s enchantment should divert attention from the noise too, at least a little.
I duck low, hoping the riven hunters are deep enough in their conversation that they don’t notice any sound that filters through the spell.
With an intent expression, Rheave picks up the bow he had tipped against the cart wall next to him and fits an arrow into it. I wince inwardly at his obvious intention.
How much more will the world hate me if we leave a trail of bodies in our wake? These people searching for me might not have done anything worse than believing what the Order said—which wasn’t entirely a lie—and wanting to protect their country.
The magic that’s made me a target squirms in my chest and shoots out through my limbs. It could cloak us from view completely like it did so many times when we were chasing the Order’s army weeks ago. It could send the hunters riding off in the opposite direction absolutely sure of their new destination.
It could erase them from existence so there were no bodies to be found at all. Like the guards at the palace in Regica. Like Lothar wanted me to do to the king and queen, to Petra and her siblings.
My hands clench against the boards beneath me at the memory.
I have to keep us safe to serve Petra now. But if I turn to my riven power for this, then what? More imaginary voices in my head, more delusions that even my allies are out to hurt me?
The mental effects of all the magic I expended earlier in our various journeys have faded as I’ve refused to use more, but I remember the viciousness of the worst panic with nerve-shuddering clarity. I need to save all the sanity I have left for our greatest challenge tomorrow.
I wind my imagined vine tight around me, holding my power in.
Casimir is urging the horses around the patch of trees. Soon the trunks will hide us from the road. As long as the hunters don’t spot the cart’s tracks and come over to investigate, we’ll be fine.
My breaths remain shallow as the courtesan brings the cart to a halt. Rheave stays poised with his bow even though we can barely make out the road from here, let alone get a clear shot.
Stavros unsheathes his sword. He shoots me a glance as if to reassure me that they’re prepared to defend me, whatever it takes.
As if the thought of my lovers getting hurt on my behalf makes me feel any better.
The hunters have stopped talking, but the hooves of their horses drum ever louder. It seems like no time at all before I catch a glimpse of the three of them cresting the hill.
It’s hard to focus on them when seeing them only through the tiny gaps between the trees. I make out one head of dark hair and another covered by a bright blue cap, cloaks wrapped around them in varying shades of brown, a speckled gray horse, one dark bay, and the third ruddy chestnut.
From what I can tell, their clothes and mounts are of good quality and in good condition. Not extravagant, but I’d guess they’re middle-class types, maybe merchants or craftsmen, taking a break from their regular work to chase the possible reward.
As we wait, crouched and silent, they continue by. Then the one on the bay draws his horse to a slower walk.
My heart skips a beat, and my magic flings itself at the barriers I’ve constructed against it.
They’re going to find us—I have to act now—I can picture them charging toward our hiding spot?—
I squeeze my jaw and my hands tight, resisting the wrenching of my power’s demands with all my will.
Whatever the man slowed to look at, it hasn’t caught his attention for long. He kicks his steed back to a trot, and he and his companions ride off down the road.
