The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(33)

My gaze slid to meet his. “Why hasn’t the army pulled back?”

“My mother has ordered it to remain until the marriage is official.”

Heat pooled in my stomach. “If they touch a single Rhodairen—”

“I have no doubt you’d happily gut us all. Don’t worry. Their orders are very clear, and they will obey them.” He paused, then added softly, “So long as things continue as planned.”

It wasn’t a threat but a warning. Razel wouldn’t hesitate to use this army to ensure her plans weren’t disrupted.

The carriage slowed, and despite myself, I glanced out the window. The rows of blue-and-gold tents were endless, an ocean of vicious weeds.

My skin prickled. This was only half Razel’s army?

When Ericen didn’t move, I turned back to him. “Not going to visit with your soldiers?”

“Like I said. This will be quick.” His voice was low and sharp.

Sure enough, the horses were exchanged without much fanfare, and with a few final hollers between soldiers, we set off again. I stared out the window, the army passing in a blur of horses and blue.

So close. They were so close to Rhodaire, and there was so little we could do against them. Without the crow, without the aid of the other kingdoms, these soldiers would destroy us.

*

The air grew colder as we journeyed farther north, the nights even more so, until I had to sleep in sweaters or inside the carriage to keep warm.

“Why don’t you sleep by the fire?” Ericen asked me one day in the carriage.

“Why don’t you talk to your soldiers every night?” I returned.

We both fell silent after that.

The next night, I retreated to the carriage after dinner. Kiva came with me, though the seats were too short for her to lie across comfortably. The days of travel made sleep come easily, and I’d nearly drifted off when I felt it. A prickle at the back of my neck. A warning. Did the carriage feel warmer? My half-asleep brain fought to process the sense of heat building near my head.

My eyes flashed open. Orange coated the inside of the carriage, flames dancing in the windows.

The carriage shook, and my heart quaked along with it as I scrambled to sit up, to understand.

The carriage was on fire.

Move! The word ripped through my mind, but my body refused. In the firelight, I saw embers falling from the sky like rain. I felt ash coating my skin, my nose, my throat. I heard myself screaming.

The memories clung to me like smoke, refusing to let me breathe.

Kiva rolled to a crouch on the floor, seizing Sinvarra. People shouted, one voice above the rest. A familiar voice.

The fire vanished.

I sucked in a ragged breath, the sudden darkness startling me. My gaze stayed fixed on the nearest window, the afterimage of flames a vicious sunset every time I blinked. How could the fire just disappear?

I felt myself trembling as Kiva threw open the door and leapt out. I hesitated, afraid for one senseless moment the fire would reappear to claim me. Then Ericen yelled. The carriage shook again. I sprang through the door, landing unsteadily on my feet. Kiva seized my arm, holding me upright, and I nearly collapsed against her, relishing the bite of the cold, fresh air.

Ericen had one of his guards up against the carriage, one of the man’s hands pinned to the side, where it clutched an extinguished torch. Two other guards lay groaning on the ground, torches at their sides. Slowly, the scene came together.

The carriage had never been on fire. It’d been a trick. A cruel prank.

Fury twisted through my veins, disconnecting me from myself. It chased away the pain and the fear and the guilt that threatened to swallow me whole until my insides burned hotter than any fire. Distantly, I was aware of my shaking hands picking up one of the discarded torches. Without a sound, I stepped ghostlike toward the prince and the remaining guard and swung with the force of a hundred repressed screams.

Ericen barely had time to dodge before the torch connected with the guard’s ribs. Something crunched, and he wheezed, dropping his torch and crumpling to the ground. I drew back to swing again, my arms burning with the need to strike and strike and strike until the fire inside consumed me.

“Anthia!” Ericen seized the torch and spun me around in one swift move, taking it from my grasp. My chest rose and fell in short bursts, my eyes finding his. Slowly, I became aware of the pressure of his hands on my arms, of Kiva appearing at my side, pushing him away. He barely stepped back, gaze still holding mine.

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. Kiva tugged gently at my arm, and I allowed her to lead me back into the carriage. I felt like a kite someone had cut loose, left to the mercy of the slightest breeze that could tear me apart. Kiva shut the door behind us. Rather than return to our respective benches, she organized our blankets on the floor, and we settled down together.

I lay there for several hours, trying to remember what it felt like to be safe.

*

The next morning, I woke feeling hollow. Several of Ericen’s guards were bruised and battered, and the one I’d struck glared murderously at me every time I looked at him. Was this what it would be like for me in Illucia?

We packed quickly and moved on, Kiva riding close to the carriage. Ericen lounged across his bench as he always did, but there was an edge to him now. The silence turned the air thick with tension, like the moment before a lightning strike, until I couldn’t stand it anymore.