Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(98)

“We still might.” The carriage is going too fast for the terrain, and we rock and sway every time we hit a rough spot.

I want to demand information, but Quint is just as trapped as I am. I don’t even know if we’re heading into the Royal Sector or away from it.

I ignore the pain in my leg to lever myself back to the window, then jerk the curtain to the side. A jagged crack splits the glass, but it still holds. Trees are flying past, alarmingly fast.

We’re heading back into the Wilds.

I look at Quint. “I don’t know where we’re going,” I say, and I choke on my breath. This is worse than waking up in Violet’s barn, terrified of who might walk through the doorway. At least then I wasn’t worried about the barn crashing down around me. “I don’t even know who has us now.”

What reward?

For the capture of the king. For what he’s done.

My breathing threatens to go thin and reedy, stealing all my thoughts while my body strains for survival. I focus on slowing each breath, until I can think.

“I trust Thorin,” Quint says.

“I do too. I just don’t know if he’s still driving this carriage.” I cast a glance at the window and wonder if we should risk jumping out. Landing in a pile of broken bones doesn’t seem like it would have much of an advantage.

I skip my eyes over his attire. I have no idea whether he can fight, but he’s not armed. I’m not either. But most of the palace carriages are outfitted with hidden weapons from a time when we had frequent cause to travel outside the Royal Sector, when bandits and outlaws were a concern for the royal family.

I tug at the velvet casing beneath the rear seat, then thrust my hand inside.

Nothing but dust.

Quint is a quick study, and he’s checking the opposite side before I even need to order him to do it.

He withdraws two daggers, both small, both coated in dust. I can see rust along the edge of one blade. Quint brushes them off against the floor of the carriage, and I cough.

“Forgive me,” he says.

“For what?” I wheeze. “Give me one.”

The weapon is hardly longer than the width of my hand, but I grip the hilt and brace myself against the wall opposite the door. No more arrows have struck the carriage, but branches whip the walls and trees fly past the narrow window. We’re still traveling dangerously fast.

And then … we’re not. The carriage slows.

I look at Quint. “We’re going to leap out. Be ready to run.”

He glances at my injured leg. “Can you run?”

No. Even leaping is going to be a challenge. But I don’t say that. “Just be ready.”

“I’m not leaving our injured king—”

“I’m ordering you.”

The carriage slows further, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “Then I suppose you’ll have to have Corrick issue a decree of punishment, Your Majesty.”

“Quint!”

The carriage stops. He tightens his grip on the dagger and finally drags his eyes away from mine, but he doesn’t move.

Lord. I grit my teeth.

The door is flung open, and sunlight floods the gap, but I can’t see much more than that because Quint launches himself forward. A man swears, and there’s a scuffle, but by the time I make it to the doorway myself, Quint is in the dirt with a bloody nose. Thorin is standing over him, looking a bit bemused.

“Master Quint?” he says. “Exactly what was your plan?”

“In retrospect,” Quint says, wincing, “it’s unclear.”

“Defending me,” I say. I limp down from the carriage, then hold out a hand to Quint. I keep my eyes on Thorin. “We weren’t sure who had the carriage. Where’s Saeth?”

“Unharnessing the horses, Your Majesty. The road is too narrow to continue with the carriage, and it’s too obvious a target.”

I run a hand over the back of my neck. Sweat mixes with the dirt from last night, and I grimace. “And why am I a target?”

“We don’t know,” Thorin says. “If they’d summoned the night patrol, we might not have been able to get away. As it is, they’re likely giving chase. We should not delay.” He glances at my leg. “Can you walk, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, but not far.” I tuck the dusty dagger under my belt and look up and around. We’re deep in the woods, surrounded by trees, far off a worn path, but nothing seems familiar.

Still, four people and two horses won’t take long to spot. Especially not beside a carriage.

“Thorin,” I say. “Do you know the way to Tessa’s old workshop from here?”

He hesitates, then looks around the way I just did. When his gaze returns to meet mine, he nods. “I do.”

“Good.” I look past him, to where Saeth is leading the two horses away from the abandoned carriage. Their harness leather has been abandoned in the dirt beside the shaft, leaving the animals bareback, in nothing but driving bridles, complete with long reins and blinders. They’re already snatching at the reins, blowing anxiously, sweat-slick and confused by everything we’ve already done.

If we’re confronted by the night patrol, these horses aren’t going to get us far.

But standing here worrying about it won’t solve the problem. If this is the best we have, it’ll have to do.