FOUR RIDERS LEFT the capital shortly after dawn.
Mira rode upon her faithful Whinny, and Ninia sat upon a prancing grey mare, while Ryana and Asher led the way on two stocky bay geldings. The morning was cool, the sky slightly overcast. The high wooded sides of the Rith Vale cast the road in shadow.
Inhaling the resinous scent of pine and the clear mountain air, Mira stifled a yawn. She’d slept little the night before. She was tired, yet a relaxed, loose-limbed sense of well-being filled her. Her lips curved as her gaze traveled to where Asher rode ahead of her, Grim perched upon his shoulder. Mira took in the breadth of Asher’s shoulders, the way his white-blond hair spilled down his back. She’d tangled her fingers in his hair last night, as he’d suckled her breasts.
Heat flushed through Mira at the memory. Stop it … you need to concentrate today.
They made their way down the valley, alongside the swiftly flowing waters of the Rith. On the lower fields, cottars were starting work for the day, carrying hoes and rakes over their shoulders. There were a handful of other travelers on the road: farmers carrying cartloads of fresh vegetables to market and merchants who were making an early start on the long road to Idriss.
Rithmar’s capital was incredibly isolated, especially compared to Veldoras. Mira supposed its position, nestled in the midst of these highlands, had both been a blessing and a curse over the years. It made it easier to defend in times of war, yet an enemy could easily cut it off from the rest of the world. Asher had told her that during those dark months the year before, when the shadow creatures roamed freely, all travel had stopped between the capital and the coast. Once you left the Western Cradle behind, there were no villages to take refuge in until the capital.
“I’m glad you found us, Mira … I’m glad you’re here.”
Mira glanced up to find Ninia watching her. The princess had tied her hair back into a tight braid this morning, although already unruly, brown curls had started to escape. The hair-style made her look older, more serious.
Mira smiled. “So am I.”
Ninia gave her a veiled look, before she cast a furtive glance in Asher’s direction. “He was poor company after you left. He regretted letting you go … although my nagging didn’t help his mood.”
“I had to go,” Mira replied quietly, “and it’s just as well I did.”
“But would you have come back otherwise … if you hadn’t seen the High Enchanter?”
Mira paused, considering the question. She remembered how she’d felt in Errad. She could have stayed on and made a life for herself in that city—yet she’d saddled up Whinny and ridden south without a backward glance.
“Aye,” she replied honestly. “It might have taken me a while—but in the end I think I would have.”
They met the party of enchanters just before noon, upon a stretch of road that led through a ravine. Rocky sides, studded with wilding pines, reared up either side of the highway. Overhead the sky was a bleak stretch of grey. Gusts of damp wind tore down the ravine, catching at their cloaks and pushing their hoods back from their faces.
Asher spotted the travelers in the distance first, his gaze sweeping over the cluster of figures on horseback and a wagon that trundled toward them. He tensed. This wasn’t the spot he would have chosen to meet Irana, for the sides of the ravine shaded the road in parts. Nor was the weather what he’d hoped for—bright sunlight was ideal.
Yet here she was, riding toward him upon a grey stallion—the horse that had once belonged to her predecessor, Thrindul. Asher recognized the young man riding next to her; Tyrell was an enchanter of the Light who had only just finished his apprenticeship. Asher’s gaze swept over the others following. They were all young, untested, and eager to prove their worth to the order.
Irana chose her companions for this trip carefully.
Asher and Ryana reined in their horses and halted, waiting for the approaching party to do the same. Around half a dozen yards distant, they stopped.
Irana’s jade gaze narrowed. Her wild mane of auburn hair blew around her, making her look younger than he remembered. Her attention focused then on the hawk that hunched upon his shoulder, before she met Asher’s eye.
“Asher,” she greeted him coolly, “this is an unexpected meeting.”
“Good day, High Enchanter,” he replied with equal coldness. “It’s not a chance encounter … we knew you were returning to the capital.”
Irana’s gaze flicked to Ryana, who sat silently upon her bay gelding to Asher’s right. The High Enchanter’s expression did not change. “We’ve just come from Errad … I went looking for you.”
“No you didn’t.”
Silence fell between them then, broken only by the shrill whistle of the wind.
Irana watched him, her aristocratic face giving nothing away. She clearly didn’t intend to answer him, so it was Asher who broke the silence. “I hear you’ve brought Stynix back with you … any reason for that?”
Her expression tightened. “Where did you hear this?”
Asher smiled. “A little bird.”
Her face turned stony. “You don’t have the right to question me.”
“And you shouldn’t hide things from members of your High Council.”
A shadow moved in those sharp, green eyes. “The king sanctioned it; he wants a weapon to use against Anthor when they move against us.”
“I thought you believed that would never happen?”
Her mouth pursed. “I changed my mind.”
“If that’s the case, why didn’t Nathan provide you with an armed escort,” Ryana spoke up. “Stynix is too valuable … and dangerous.”
Irana favored Ryana with an irritated look. “He wants this kept secret.”
Asher watched Irana closely. He wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not. King Nathan didn’t have a great relationship with the order, and before the Battle of the Shadefells he’d distrusted enchantment. Nathan had fought side-by-side with the likes of Asher and Irana during that battle and had developed a respect for them—but had he taken that relationship even further?
“How easily lies slide off your tongue,” Ryana said after a lengthy pause. “But we’ll discover the truth soon enough … when we talk to the king.”
Irana laughed, although her eyes were hard. “You do that.” The High Enchanter dismissed Ryana then, her attention shifting past the two enchanters facing her on horseback, to the two riders behind them. “Who have you brought with you?”
Asher smiled thinly. He’d been awaiting this moment. “Visitors from Thûn, High Enchanter.” He and Ryana urged their horses forward, leaving a space so Irana had a clear view of the two women behind them. “Irana, meet Princess Ninia and her guardian, Mira.”
Irana’s face froze, and behind her the young enchanters exchanged confused looks. They had no idea what was happening, but they’d find out soon enough.
Ninia sat tall in the saddle, her hood pushed back. Her hazel eyes were steady as she watched the High Enchanter. Beside her, Mira was dark and still, her right hand resting upon the hilt of her sword, her left loosely holding the reins, ready to reach for the blade strapped to her thigh if necessary.
A long silence ensued, before Irana inclined her head toward Asher. He met her eye and wondered if she would lie. She was cornered, and she knew it.
“It seems I over-estimated you,” she said finally. “I thought you were loyal to this order.”
“I am … I’m just not a cold-blooded killer.”
She cast him a disdainful look. “You didn’t have a problem taking lives in the north.”
“The battlefield’s different.”
“No, it’s not. It’s duty—just of a different kind.”
A strange hush settled over the road, and the air changed. Asher breathed in the rich, clean smell of an approaching thunderstorm.
Enchantment.
He could feel Irana preparing to gather the Dark. Long shadows stretched across the road. He watched them expand toward him. He flexed his right hand at his side, beckoning to the pale sky. The Light answered his call, and the sky overhead brightened for a moment. It was a warning.
Irana tore her attention from Asher then and looked at Ninia once more, pinning her to the spot. “Do you know what you are?”
Ninia’s mouth compressed. “I know who I am.”
Irana drew herself up, swiveling in the saddle to address her companions. “This girl wields both the Light and the Dark. Don’t be fooled by her youth—she’s a danger to us all.”
This revelation brought muffled gasps. The enchanters exchanged glances again, their young faces paling.
The High Enchanter swung her attention back to Ninia. “The world had one like you before, and he nearly brought us to our knees.”
Ninia’s back stiffened, her chin lifting. “I’m not Valgarth. I’m not a danger.” She held Irana’s gaze, unflinching. “All I want, is to learn how to harness this gift.”
Irana hissed out a breath. “It’s not a gift, girl. It’s a curse.”
And with that, Irana let fly a whip of darkness from her right hand—aimed directly for Ninia’s chest. There was no time for Asher to deflect it; the High Enchanter moved with quicksilver speed.
The whip hit Ninia with a thud and wrapped around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides. Irana’s first blow hadn’t been intended to kill Ninia, but to immobilize her.
The High Enchanter gathered the Dark once more.
A spear of shadows snapped across the space separating her and Ninia—but Ryana intercepted it with a wall of chattering shadows. However, Irana was ready for the defense, and countered it with another attack, shattering Ryana’s wall.
Ryana’s bay gelding squealed in terror and reared up, dumping its rider headfirst onto the hard road.
Asher gathered the Light, yet Irana moved again—unnaturally fast. He barely blocked her in time. Then Irana gathered the Dark once more, and a long shadow fell across the road.
Ninia cried out and struggled to free herself of her bonds. Her pony danced beneath her.
Time slowed down.
Grim shrieked, and for the first time Asher understood the bird.
The Light Shield. Lift it.
The bird’s talons released him as the hawk took flight.
Irana flung her right arm toward Ninia. A great black fist flew across the gap between the High Enchanter and the princess.
Asher moved, guiding his horse with his knees toward Ninia. The Light Shield was a powerful enchantment, a defense enchanters of the Light usually wielded as a group. Yet there was no time to do anything else, no time to ask for help.
The heat of the sun shot down from the sky, and—instead of using it to intercept Irana’s attack—Asher bound it to his body. Heat enveloped him, and he threw himself off his horse into the path of the cannon-ball of shadows, just before it collided with Ninia.