A Vow So Bold and Deadly (Cursebreakers, #3)(88)

Harper has been clinging to her brother’s side, which has generated some glances from the other soldiers, so I have tried to keep my distance from both of them, choosing instead to sit with Solt at meal times. I don’t want to give anyone in our group the impression that I am separate from them. Unfortunately it leaves me with little conversation, because Solt is cool and distant, speaking only when spoken to.

My only true companion is Iisak, who takes to the skies when we ride at night, then lands at daybreak and demands that I practice my skills. Always before, magic was a struggle because I didn’t understand it—and I didn’t want to understand it.

Now magic is a struggle because I know where my limitations are—limitations Lilith herself does not share.

I’ve come to eye my bedroll with the same desperation as Tycho, but when I try to sleep, all I do is worry. I don’t think Harper would lead me into a trap, which I know occupies the thoughts of the other soldiers—but I am also unsure if Rhen truly wanted peace, or if his desires were more strategic in nature. I know Harper believes the best of him, but I’ve seen the worst.

I know this dagger is impervious to magic—the irritating stitches across the back of my hand are proof enough of that. But I don’t know if it will be enough.

I don’t know if I can defeat Lilith. I don’t know if I can save Rhen.

I don’t know if I can help unite these countries.

And deeper, darker, a thought I almost don’t want to admit to myself: I don’t know if I can keep my vow to Lia Mara. I might have magic, but I don’t have the skill with it that Lilith does. She trapped all of Ironrose in a curse that seemed eternal, and I now know that requires a complicated layering of magic that I am nowhere near mastering.

Sleep proves to be elusive at best, and I am no less surly and snappish than the others.

By the fourth day, we’ve circled around Rhen’s stationed regiment, sticking close to the forest. Tonight we’ll need to move out of the woods on the mountainside, which will be the riskiest travel yet, so I practice with Iisak for a shorter time, and then he goes to scout our paths from overhead to see if we’ll encounter any resistance or risk of discovery.

It’s barely sunrise, but most of the soldiers have already fallen asleep. It seems they’ve called on Tycho to guard the camp, because he’s sitting against a tree not far from the fire. I slip between the trees, wondering if I’ll find him dozing, but I should give Tycho more credit. I hardly make a sound, but he whirls off the ground, an arrow nocked on a string before he’s fully upright.

I catch the arrow against the bow so he can’t let it fly.

His eyes are wide, his breathing a little quick, but relief blooms in his gaze. “Sorry.” He hesitates, easing the bow string. “Your Highness.”

“Don’t be,” I say. “You were quick off the ground.”

The praise makes him blush, just a bit. He tucks the arrow in his quiver and hangs the bow over his shoulder. “It’s the first time they’ve asked me to sit sentry.”

“Well chosen,” I say.

His blush deepens. “I’m more worried I’ll fall asleep.”

“I’ll sit with you.”

He looks startled at that, and maybe a little wary, but he nods. “As you say.”

I sit, putting my back to a tree a few feet away, and he sits as well, pulling the bow into his lap. The early morning forest is quiet and cold, the tethered horses just as tired as the soldiers. I’ve hardly spoken to Tycho since I confronted him in the sleet a few days ago. With someone else, there might be some tension between us, but with Tycho, there’s none. Because the silence is so amiable, I let it hang between us while the sun fully rises, letting my thoughts drift.

If I’m not careful, I will doze off, so I try to fill the silence. “Do you ever think of the tourney?”

Worwick’s Tourney is where I hid when I first fled Ironrose. For months, Tycho was my only companion, and my first confidant when Rhen began searching for the missing heir. It was the simplest three months of my life—until it wasn’t. I used to teach him basic swordplay in the dusty arena, until Tycho learned the truth of who I was and demanded to graduate to the real thing.

Tycho looks over in surprise. “Worwick’s? All the time.”

“How many times do you think he spun the story of our capture?”

Tycho smiles. “At least a hundred. He’s probably charging a fee just to hear him tell it.”

Knowing Worwick, that’s the truth.

“It’s odd to be in Emberfall again,” Tycho says. “Don’t you think?”

“I do.” I remember the first night Rhen and I discovered soldiers from Syhl Shallow were in Emberfall. I didn’t expect to be wearing their colors less than a year later. I’d sworn my life to defend Rhen. I never expected I’d be standing against him.

The thought of him facing Lilith alone tugs at me more than it should.

“Do you think we’ll encounter Rhen’s forces?” Tycho says, and something about his voice is lower, quieter, so I look over.

“We might,” I say. He’s silent, so I add, “Are you afraid?”

He hesitates, and for a moment, I think he won’t admit it to me, especially not now. His voice drops even lower, and he says, “I’m afraid that when the time comes, I won’t be able to kill someone.”