The room grew silent as the prince retold their adventure, and in the end when he unsheathed Lumiere, its blade flaring blue as its wielder summoned its magic, everyone believed.
“That’s some story, prince,” Milo let his chin fall into his palm with an unsettled frown.
“I still have a hard time fathoming it at times,” Jaycent confessed.
“And if Shadow kills Diego and adds the unicorn’s powers to his own, Nevaharday won’t be the only one in trouble,” Levee pointed out. “Someone has to stop him.”
“How ya plan to do that?” Milo asked.
“I must retrieve Diego’s horn,” the prince explained. “After that, I will seek the aid of the re’shahna. They are still rooted in the innate magic of our people. If they can help the rest of us reconnect with that power, we should become a far more formidable force against Shadow and his minions.”
“What can we do?” Rab inquired.
“Get some rest,” Jaycent said. “The morning is already nigh, and the children will need some sleep before you depart for Sarrokye.”
“But if Shadow has Diego’s magic, how do you plan to get it back?”
“Let me take care of that,” the prince replied. “For now, just focus on making it safely to Sarrokye.”
The refugees nodded, and the children yawned as they detached themselves from the prince’s lap and followed their mother like sleepy ducklings back into the cellar. Milo motioned for Levee to join them, and she looked at Jaycent for confirmation.
“Go,” the prince stroked her cheek with the back of his hand before forcing himself to tear his eyes away. “I will follow soon enough.”
The gypsy nodded and disappeared down the hatch, leaving Milo and Jaycent alone. Levee’s actions were subtle to the others, who were tired and merely thankful to see her and His Highness alive.
But Jaycent knew by the look in the Sarrokian’s ocher eyes that he had caught on to Levee’s change in affection. He smoothed his black curls back and refitted his hat, his attention fixed on His Highness. “I’m thinkin’ there’s more here we’re needin’ to discuss.”
The prince nodded. He knew this conversation would come, though he wished the time and place were different. Jaycent squeezed through the back door, which would only open a third of the way due to its damaged hinges. The Sarrokian followed close on his heels.
“Levee fears for your mother as well,” Jaycent started to say. “I know she has not asked about her, but the worry is there. She—”
“She knows,” Milo voice was low and his words sharp. “Lev doesn’t have to ask. She knew Ma’s heart was weak. She could hardly handle the stress of the farm, much less the clash of war.”
Jaycent nodded solemnly. “I am truly sorry…”
The Sarrokian removed his hat then, his jaw clinched. “I didn’t follow you out here to talk about my Ma.” His voice was rough and full of emotion.
“I know,” Jaycent rested his hands on his hips. “I want you to take her with you, Milo. To Sarrokye.”
Milo’s ears flicked back. He gave his head a slow, disgusted shake. “You cold-hearted bastard.”
“I have to do this,” the prince tried to explain. “I cannot leave Diego’s magic in Shadow’s grasp. And I will not risk Levee’s life—”
Milo slugged the prince with a right hook that had him stumbling back in a daze.
“Ya think just ‘cause I’m lame, I’m blind too?” Milo growled. Lowering his voice, the Sarrokian marched up to Jaycent and seized him by the front of his tunic. “I can see what promise you made her, and ya know I ain’t likin’ it one bit. But you staked your claim. Don’t go thinkin’ you have the right to throw it all away! You’ve got responsibilities, not just as a prince but as a mate now.”
Jaycent’s eyes narrowed beneath the growing bruise over his left eye. “I know my responsibilities well, Sarrokian, and you have no right—”
“Don’t try to tell me about rights!” Milo’s muscles tensed and he distributed his weight onto his right leg. “I don’t give a damn about your rules, not when it comes to the girl inside that door.”
Jaycent tore Milo’s hands from his tunic and took several steps back to avoid letting his temper get the best of him. “My love for her is no less than your own, but I cannot run away from this task. It is my duty as Diego’s companion to protect his magic from falling into the wrong hands. Should I fail to do this, there will be no redemption against Shadow’s tyranny.”
Milo turned his back on the prince as he fell into a broken pace. “There is no redemption, prince! It’s gone. Nevaharday is gone!
“Shadow has the throne, and we’ve got a small window of time to hop a caravan outta here. You think you can just leave her with us and run off on some suicide mission? It ain’t that simple.
“I’ve seen the looks Levee gives ya. If you die tonight, a huge portion of her spirit will die, too. Don’t you see it?”
“Aye,” Jaycent looked at Milo with such pain and turmoil twisted on his face that the Sarrokian could no longer question the prince’s heart. It was all there, plain as day, on a face that used to be unreadable. “I see it, and it tears my heart just thinking about leaving her behind.
“But I have to do this, Milo… If any of us are to survive this war, I must succeed,” Jaycent wiped a hand across his face and sighed. “I will come back for Levee. So long as blood flows in my veins, I swear to it. But if my life ends tonight, I know you will protect her, and I need that peace of mind if I am to enter that castle.”
Milo leaned against a lone fence post and replaced the hat on his head. “Ya know I’ll always take care of her,” he muttered. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re an idiot.”
“For her sake and yours, I must try,” he offered a weak smile and extended his hand, hoping to gain the Sarrokian’s agreement.
Milo glanced back at the door and thought of the precious gypsy tucked safety of the cellar.
“Don’t die, Prince,” he warned one last time. “You can’t break your promise to her. She won’t ever forgive you if you do.”
“Nor would I,” the prince assured.
Milo turned and gave Jaycent’s hand a firm shake. For the first time the pair looked at each other not as enemies, but as two rahee with a single thing in common. The prince clasped the Sarrokian’s shoulder and offered him another respectful nod.
Then he pulled the pendant from his neck and dropped it in Milo’s palm. “Give this to her for me? Tell her this is my promise. I will meet Levee in Sarrokye or wait for her in death. Either way, there will never be another for me.”
“I’ll see it done,” the Sarrokian promised.
“I would do it myself,” the prince lamented, “but if she knew I was leaving, she would not let me go alone.”
Milo glanced up at the sky, spotting the stars that twinkled between the dark clouds of smoke. “I ain’t for knowin’ if there are any gods lookin’ kindly on us tonight, but if they are may every one of ‘em be with ya.”
“Thank you, Milo,” Jaycent cast one last heartfelt glance at the cottage where his mate waited, his pale blue eyes creased with salty lines. Milo gave him a kind but firm nudge toward the road.
“Go,” he bid. “Before their guard changes. And watch your back. Ain’t a thing in armor worth trustin’ out there.”
Jaycent pulled his cloak over his head, its thick brown fabric billowing behind him as he trotted resolutely toward the main road.
There was no looking back. Though he yearned to catch one last glimpse, he could not bear to give in. Ears back and hood low, he let the emotion fade away behind a mask of controlled fury.
In the beginning, Shadow had tapped into his dreams, exploited his fears, and fought him on uneven grounds. It wouldn’t be the same this time. Now Shadow was the prey and Jaycent the hunter.
The prince cleared his mind, solidifying the mental barriers Filly had helped him build. His fingers curled around his sword, feeling the magic stirring there. Like Connor, he
was ready for one more fight. Jaycent would win or he would die.
For Levee’s sake, he prayed for the former.
INTO THE LION’S DEN
Jaycent crouched behind an overturned wagon facing Nevaharday’s eastern gate, his fingers working swiftly to untie the leather laces on his chest. He seized the edge of his tunic, ripping it over his head and exchanging it for the uniform he’d stolen from the sentry house.
It had only been a few months since he wore the blues of his kingdom, though it felt like many more. The colors used to rouse his pride before fate took him beyond his kingdom. Now all Jaycent could think about was the impracticality of its hue and how exposed it made him feel.
The prince stuffed his garb inside his shoulder sack before retying his cloak and draping its fabric over the hip that held Lumiere. Stealth had to remain his ally when he crossed the bloodstained battlefield to get to the city’s doors.
Jaycent glanced at the eastern horizon, its edges not yet seized by the grip of dawn. There was still a bit of time left before he’d make his move. The prince settled on his knees, his eyes closed as he tried to find his center.
Thoughts of Levee still clouded his troubled mind, and he forced himself to face those feelings as his actions settled in. There was a good chance he would not return tonight. If that were the case then their last memory together would consist of his empty promise and Levee’s trusting smile.
Jaycent inhaled deeply, accepting his emotions and letting them become the fuel that lit his focus. He wasn’t certain how he would sneak into Nevaharday, but if it took tearing through the portcullis with his bare hands, Jaycent would make it so.
Besides, there was no turning back now. Shadow had given him no choice in the matter when he stole Diego’s horn. The prince had to get it back before the illusionist combined Diego’s power with his own.
Jaycent turned his attention to his breathing, drawing in air and releasing it slowly until all of his thoughts and fears pooled together into one singular focus. His senses heightened, making him keenly aware of the white puffs of snow pressed against his calves and Lumiere’s smooth, pearlescent grip beneath his fingers. The blade warmed to his touch, its sentient magic chasing away winter’s frigid cold.
“Where are you, Shadow?” Jaycent murmured. Using the sword’s magic to heighten his mind’s eye, the prince funneled his thoughts toward the illusionist until visions began to emerge.
Deciphering them wasn’t easy. Even with Lumiere’s aid the images were vague, their stream fragmented. Jaycent guessed it had something to do with the density of dark magic inside the city combating his enchanted reach. He poured more of his energy into the vision until beads of perspiration crawled down his brow.
A flickering picture formed behind his eyes, its connection too broken for him to enter inside. Still, Jaycent could see it. Dark figures gathered around a dais. A column… no two! And there, in the background, something solid.
His father’s throne.
Jaycent’s eyes snapped open, their ice cold gaze narrowed into vengeful slits. Shadow had gone to great lengths to reach the prince. Now he had Jaycent’s attention, and he intended to collect the dark one’s dues. Jaycent lifted his knee into a readied crouch and stared the fortress that once belonged to him.
Blood would stain Lumiere tonight.
* * * * *
“Gone? What do you mean he’s gone?” A blend of fear and fury sharpened Levee’s tone.
Milo hated Jaycent in that moment more than any living being. The message he left Milo with sounded too much like the loss and abandonment that had haunted the gypsy all of her life. Milo sighed and took Levee’s hand, dropping her mate’s kunah inside her palm.
“His Highness chose to go beyond the gates alone. He said for you to come with us,” Milo explained in a hushed tone as Rab grabbed the last of the bags from the cellar floor and carried them up the ladder. The other refugees stood outside waiting, anxious to depart. “If he makes it out alive, he promises to meet us in Sarrokye.”
“And I suppose you had nothing to do with this?” Levee glared at her childhood friend. The Sarrokian shook his head in honest denial, not a bit offended by her accusation. It was a well-founded assumption. Had the prince thought to take her along, the Sarrokian would have undoubtedly intervened.
But Jaycent had other plans, and, for once, Milo agreed with them.
“He thought this one up himself,” the Sarrokian replied. “I urged him to stay behind with us, but the prince said Diego was his responsibility, and he had to go in after ‘em alone.”
Levee’s fingers curled around the copper pendant as her body trembled. Her mate had left to face a foe that had Bresan T’ahnya and felled it within a day.
“This cannot be,” Her eyes dropped to the kunah lying cold and heavy against her palm.
To the re’shahna and the rahee, one’s kunah was a trinket of priceless value. It symbolized a patriarch’s name, his identity, and all of the legends born from his lineage. Only widows without a son to carry on their lover’s name ever wore such a thing. Her head snapped up and she looked straight into Milo’s eyes.
“This cannot be,” she repeated, louder this time.
“It already is,” Milo felt like a criminal saying those words. He put a hand on her cheek. “I tried to talk some sense into him, Sweets. Truly, I did! But there was no changin’ his mind. His Highness is bent on what he set out to do, and he’s doin’ it alone.”
“No,” she elbowed past her childhood friend and climbed up the ladder. “I can still help him!”
“How?” Milo called up at her. Levee disappeared out the trap door and Milo shook his head at the gypsy’s stubbornness. Hooking his cane on his forearm, he lugged himself up the ladder one rung at a time.
“I know how to help him get inside the gates!” she shouted down the cellar hatch before shoving her way through the back door.
The heads of New Haven’s refugees turned to face her, and Rab’s ears went high when she jogged toward a slanted post that once supported the pasture gate. She leaned against its edge for support and focused on the highest hillock southwest of New Haven where the edge of Nevaharday’s wall stood.
She pressed her finger against her lips, calculating the distance inside her head. “Even from here I can give him a fighting chance.”
A thump made Levee jump as a cane hit the floor inside the cottage. Rab rushed inside and helped pull the Sarrokian up the ladder. Milo seized the stick with a grunt and stormed out the door, his cane poking angry little holes into the dirt as he limped after the gypsy.
“Lev, the city’s a fortress guarded by an army of traitors and Abysmal monsters. At this point there’s not a thing we can do except bring news of Nevaharday’s fate to Sarrokye like the prince was wantin’.”
Levee looked at her dearest friend, his brow crinkled in pain as he leaned his hip against the gatepost for support. She squeezed his hand in reassurance. “We will still do that, but first I have to try something.”
He looked at her from beneath his cow poke hat, all the hurt and loss brought on by Shadow’s chaos clouding his orange eyes.
“What can you possibly do?” he asked, his voice cracking beneath the weight of hopelessness. “What can any of us do? Shadow wields some tainted magic beyond anythin’ we’ve ever seen. We are not gods, Levee!”
“No, Milo,” she replied. “But we are horse folk, and that means more than we think it does.” She closed her eyes and awakened the living flow of magic inside her core until she could feel her awareness expanding into the surrounding fields.
It took only a few moments to sense a familiar presence, and the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she whispered a few words in the old tongue.
Milo couldn’t tell what she was saying, but he felt the hairs on his arm stand up as a strange sensation rolled over, then past him. He looked over his shoulder to the line of trees that guarded Clover Lake, and held his breath when a delighted whinny came fro
m beyond them, echoed by several more.
Rab and the others turned at the sound of galloping hooves, and they shrank toward the house in fear until a familiar pony emerged from the perimeter of trees. To their shock and delight, three other strays followed behind her, including a roan gelding Milo knew very well.
“Danna?” The Sarrokian’s jaw fell open.
“Now you can stop worrying about your leg causing you to fall behind,” Levee smiled as Melee and the small herd cantered toward them.
“You called them to us,” Milo stated. Melee sidled up next to the gypsy, followed by Danna who greeted Milo with an affectionate head butt. “How?”
“A little trick I learned from an old re’shahna,” she kissed her pony’s muzzle. “Melee, Danna, and their friends will help you lead us to Sarrokye quicker than on foot.”
“Us?” The wrinkles in Milo’s brow smoothed with relief. “So you will be goin’ south with us.”
“After I do one more thing,” she turned her attention back to the city where flaming torches winked like stars atop the wall walk. “You said our people were ambushed by Shadow’s minions both inside and outside of the city’s walls, right?”
“Aye,” the Sarrokian continued to stare at his gelding, marveling at Levee’s gift.
“After our defeat, did their army herd the cavalry’s steeds back inside the city gates?”
“Every last one of ‘em,” he lamented.
“Good,” Levee planted her feet on the ground and aimed her raised palm toward the city. Closing her eyes, she focused again on the wellspring of power sitting restless inside her soul.
What the gypsy had in mind would challenge her strength and her limits, yet just as Jaycent had made his perilous choice, so had she.
Levee felt a new stream of magic radiate through her arm, its energy flowing in a conscious trail directed toward Nevaharday’s gates. “Give me until dawn, Milo, and make sure that my concentration isn’t interrupted.”
The Rogue Trilogy Page 41
