Followed by Fros(65)

We wove through the streets, the palace looming larger as we neared it. I led Leikah on my own, having grown accustomed to the reins and her movements. I patted her neck with a gloved hand as we passed a group of children playing marbles, and Leikah shook her head and glared back at me with an almost indignant expression. Perhaps she could feel the cold through glove and fur. Or perhaps “faithful” did not equal “friendly.”

I thought about the first time I rode Leikah in the Unclaimed Lands, when Lo had pulled down her muzzle and restrained her so I could board. His eyes had been hard, but the gesture had been thoughtful and kind. If only I had known then.

I trembled with cold, wincing as the sensation spiraled through my chest and stomach.

I didn’t dismount immediately when we reached the palace. From atop Leikah’s back I had a wonderful view of the sandy carvings that covered the palace’s facade—spirals and roses, faces of kings past, great lizards with wings. It seemed impossible one man could have created each and every engraving, but the style persisted as far as I could see. How long must it have taken to create such a masterpiece? If my hands could remain still long enough to hold a chisel, I would have loved to learn to carve stone—my snow sculptures were so fragile, not that they could compare to the majesty of these carvings. I guided Leikah down and slid off her back. Perhaps Aamina could find a history on it for me. Perhaps I would dare to enter a library myself when we returned from our journey.

Several guards in indigo filtered in and out of the palace, loading packs onto their camels while stable hands held feed bags and filled troughs with warm water. I recognized a few of the guards from my last trip and nodded to them as they passed.

“Smeesa!”

I turned as Imad approached, garbed in a maroon robe and white slacks that looked almost Iyodian.

I bowed. “It is good to see you again.”

He waved his hands at me. “Don’t do that. Haven’t I told you before not to do that?” He bowed to me and smiled. “My greatest appreciation to you for agreeing to do this a second time, Smeesa. I have high hopes that next year the natural rain might favor us. But you must stay even then, if only for the sweet cream!”

I laughed. “I would like to stay indefinitely, if the people do not mind.”

Imad clapped his hands. “Perfect! Another celebration is in order. We will dine with my father when you return, yes? But now I must speak to Eyan. If you’ll excuse me?”

I nodded, and he walked to the head of the line, where Eyan was tightening the straps of his camel’s saddle. He straightened immediately in Imad’s presence and saluted. Imad shook his head and said something, and Eyan’s laughter echoed off the surrounding mountains.

I smiled and turned back to Leikah, and barely managed to restrain my shriek at the sight of Sadriel standing not an arm’s width away from me.

Glancing around to ensure no one could hear me, I hissed, “What are you doing here?”

He tilted his head and stared at me as though my question were obvious. And it was. Sadriel went where death called, which meant death lingered nearby.

I shivered and stepped back, frantically searching the area around me, my eyes darting from soldier to soldier. All lively, healthy. I turned back to Sadriel and asked, “What, what is it?”

Sadriel lifted one long finger and pointed. Not at a soldier, but at a tall domed building behind me, lined with beige columns and topped with a green-rusted copper spire. A government building. But beside that spire I saw movement. Squinting, I spied a man dressed in white to blend in with the snow cloud above us. He wore a white hat to hide his hair and a white veil to conceal his face.

And in his hands he held a brown bow, arrow nocked and string pulled back to his ear.

Lo’s words resonated in my memory. “There has already been one attempt on Imad’s life . . .”

It all ran through my mind so fast my vision blurred. Imad. The extra guards. The dissenters. The assassin.

And no one else saw him.

I spun on my leather-soled shoes, the city blurring around me. My body moved too slowly. I forced my cold muscles into action, pushing myself harder than I ever had before. Running. Running. Screaming.

“Imad!” I rushed toward him. “Ki Pah’al e Vrara!” Get out of the way!

He looked up, confused. Eyan, confused. The stable hands, alarmed.

But I ran for him until we collided, and as we fell lightning exploded through my back, piercing me deeper and deeper, ripping through skin and muscle and bone.

We hit the stone ground, me on top of him, the air expelling from my lungs. Red leaked into my vision. I tried to reclaim my air, but the hurt dug, seared, and burned down to the core of my being. My head floated.

Imad’s face muddled in my vision, swirling and darkening.

Sticky, hot blood gushed down my back, and I was gone.





CHAPTER 27





My body felt very heavy when I opened my eyes, as though I had been asleep a long time. I lay on a large, soft bed with mustard-colored drapes hanging from its frame, mauve blankets piled atop me. A wooden chest sat at the foot of the bed, and beside me rested a small, round table littered with glasses, bottles, bowls, and bandages. I had the distinct feeling I had been here before, though it took a moment for my sluggish mind to register it.

The palace. The room where I had spent my first night in Mac’Hliah.