The Silver Siren (Iron Butterfly, #3)(64)

I supposed it was the closest I would get to an answer. I didn’t wait. I spurred the horse on and headed toward the gate before I lost my nerve, or before King Tieren had a mood swing and I ended up back in the dungeon.

I neared the gate, and Gideon motioned for the guards to let me through. Sitting straight and tall in the saddle, I looked neither right nor left but continued on my journey. Unlike the palace in Calandry, Sinnendor’s castle was nestled in a small mountain range. The closest town, Merchantstown, was a good three miles away and located along the river Sterling. I could either take the main road into Merchantstown or bypass it and head into the forest that lay south of the castle. I was hoping to continue south and meet up with a road that would lead me back into Calandry.

I could see barely see the outline the Shadow Mountains from where I was, and I could envision King Tieren staring out of his castle into that very mountain range and wishing desperately for his sister’s return.

No wonder he became obsessed with getting her back.

I spurred the horse forward toward the trees, hoping that I could put some distance between me and the castle before it became dark and Tieren sent Gideon back after me. I didn’t really know whom to trust. It wasn’t long before I found a path and followed it. Any time it forked, I took the road that seemed to head south.

Hours passed and the sky darkened. I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder every few minutes, looking for Gideon’s form or one of the Elite to come barreling after me.

My stomach growled but I ignored the rumbling until it no longer cried out in protest. I was cold, shivering. By now I was fighting to keep from falling asleep. My eyes grew heavy and every few minutes, my head nodded off to the side. I would instantly jerk awake and stare into the night. I couldn’t help it, I was mentally and emotionally exhausted, and even my flight instinct wasn’t kicking in to keep me awake.

I must have dozed off again, because I awoke to something poking me in the side. Maybe I had rubbed against a brambleberry bush. Loker stopped moving and the poke in the side dug deeper.

I opened my eyes to the edge of a sword pointed at my face.





Chapter 28



I was instantly alert. It must be the Elite. Tieren must have sent them back for me. My hand reached for a weapon but I came up empty. The forest was unnaturally quiet, except for the whispers I could hear from my ambushers. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the sword pointed toward my throat, and I recognized the pain in my side as another knife. I saw black shapes moving about, dark cloaks, and more swords appearing.

I heard hissing, the sound of an argument.

“Oh for stars sake, here let me,” a feminine voice called out and then a small flash of light appeared in the darkness fairly close to my head. I jumped slightly, and so did the person holding the sword. Luckily, it didn’t slice my jugular. The bright flare made spots appear in my vision and I heard the same voice call out, “See, it is her.”

There was no mistaking Syrani’s voice. The sword and knife in my side were quickly withdrawn. Strong hands pulled me down and I was embraced in a gripping bear hug.

“Odin,” I called out and he released me. He stepped back and others came forward out of the forest. I saw Hemi, Gotte, Eviir, Fenri and Syrani. More lighted orbs appeared in the air and I could see my father approaching on a horse, with what looked like a whole army of clansmen behind him.

“Father, you came.” I wasn’t surprised that he would. Just glad that he did.

Bearen stared at me in confusion. But then it washed away to be replaced by a look of happiness. “Thalia? You’re free? How in the world is that possible? We were about to come and rescue you.” Bearen turned in his saddle and—as my eyes adjusted to the darkness—I made out far more silhouettes than I’d expected. There were hundreds of men. He must have gathered the clans to attack Sinnendor.

“With some help of course,” Syrani called out. It completely surprised me to see Syrani, dressed in my clan’s fur cloak and armor. She was dressed for battle and looked quite comfortable. With a flick of her wrist, the orbs of light, which actually turned out to be floating burning coals, extinguished and dropped to the ground.

“Yes, I’m free. It’s a long story, but I’m fine.” I was quickly ushered into the darkened camp. No campfires had been made, no torches, no light whatsoever trickled out of the camp. It looked like they had just made camp and were getting prepared to invade in the morning.

I was given a bowl of gruel and a blanket to wrap around my shoulders. Even though there were no fires, it was warm. I gave my father an accusing look and he just shrugged his shoulders and pointed to Syrani. She was leaning over a pile of flat stones and I watched in awe as they slowly glowed. She pulled away and Odin picked up a large pot and placed it over the stones. A few seconds later the water was boiling.

“How many injured and dead from the raid?” I asked as soon as we were away from the others.

“Thirty injured, four dead,” he answered grimly. I could see the dangerous glint in his eye and the anger that he barely contained. I couldn’t help but wonder how many generations of living in Calandry it had taken to tame the fury of the Siren blood. Now that I knew the signs, it was easy to spot, even when diluted. But the question remained. Did my father know about his bloodline? Did anyone in Valdyrstal know anything about Sirens? And was that the true answer to why the Valdyrstals hated the Denai as much as they did? It sure seemed plausible.