Incendiary (Hollow Crown #1)(20)

“Can you hear Illan?” Margo asks Esteban. Her beautiful, throaty voice sounds strange in the eerie stillness of the countryside, the soft whistling of dry grass along the edge of the road.

“I’m trying, but we’re still too far,” Esteban replies.

Illan’s been training Esteban to hone his Ventári ability, how to use silver to heighten his power and stretch the range for communications so that the two of them can speak into each other’s minds even from afar. Esteban twists his silver bracelet cuff and scrapes the back of his ear.

“Try again,” Dez urges him, shouldering out of his pack. “He needs to know what Ren saw.”

Esteban pinches the wide bridge of his nose and puts a hand up to silence us. He pulls back the hood of his cloak and undoes the clasp at his throat as though it chokes him. Then he stiffens.

I recognize the magics Esteban is working in the Ventári’s stillness, his closed eyes and the tilt of his head, as if he’s trying better to listen to the whisper coming from the faraway mountain.

“It’s him,” he says, his brown eyes drifting into the distance. “It’s your father.”

Esteban separates himself from the rest of us, seeking quiet so he can concentrate on Illan’s thoughts moving through his own. I wonder what it’s like to hear voices, see inside someone’s mind, and then simply walk away, free.

“Are you sure?” Esteban asks, his dark eyes focused past us, on the horizon. Sometimes, when he’s in a trance like this, he starts responding to his thoughts and it’s like he’s speaking to a ghost. “But— Yes, yes, of course.”

By the way his brow furrows, Illan’s instruction must not be what Esteban wants to hear. He sighs deeply and presses his palms against his face to shake himself from the headache that comes with such a use of his magics.

“Well, speak,” Dez commands.

Esteban’s eyes scan our faces—the life has drained from his. “We aren’t going home.”

“What?” I blurt out.

“Illan has ordered us not to return. To set up camp in the Forest of Lynxes,” Esteban says, though he winces from what must be a terrible headache. “Hawk and Fox Units, and the elder council themselves, will rendezvous with us there in two days’ time.”

“The elders?” Sayida gasps.

Any doubt that the weapon was a trick is gone. The elders never leave the safety of the ruins. They preserve the history and traditions of the kingdom of Memoria. Why risk it now?

“Wouldn’t it be best if we meet at the capital?” Margo asks.

Esteban shakes his head, his mouth set in a taut line. “The elders have word that the king’s justice is raiding citadelas and villages near the mountain pass. Word of rebels setting fires in Esmeraldas has spread.”

“Lies,” Sayida spits.

“This is your doing, little incendiary,” Margo mutters so only I can hear her.

“West is the safest option. I know the Forest of Lynxes,” Dez says. “I named our unit for it. The goddess smiles down on us.”

While Margo looks alight with our orders, Dez carries a new stiffness around his shoulders. I grip the coin he gave me and look at it, unable to shake the feeling that Dez is holding back. He snatches up his pack.

Marching away from the Via de Santos and into the field of dried grass to the west, Dez glances back, his familiar smile flashing across his face. “Come on, you rebel bestaes. You wanted a fight. Now we have one.”





Chapter 6


In the dead of night, and under the cover of trees, the wind chills down to the bones. A nervous quiet settles over our camp. We spread out our bedrolls around the fire pit for warmth and share what’s left of the bread and salted dried meat in our packs. Sayida makes irvena tea and we sip it. Two days. We’ll have two days to hide out in the Forest of Lynxes until the others come. So much could go wrong before then. Margo scouted ahead and returned with news that the neighboring towns of Sagradaterra and Aleja are also being raided. The Second Sweep has plastered my and Dez’s likeness across markets with a reward.

Two days to not get caught.

Two days to replay everything that went wrong in Esmeraldas.

If only I’d been faster in finding the stone. If only I’d gotten the boy out before the soldier arrived. If only I had controlled my power better. If only I hadn’t been distracted enough to let myself get wounded.

If only, if only, if only.

Sometimes I wonder if a person can have so much regret they’ll drown in it.

At the memory of Celeste, of me reaching into her mouth for the alman stone, my food feels like coal going down my throat. I don’t dare waste any, though, because who knows if we’ll catch any game tomorrow. I swallow more water to help keep it down.

“How’s your headache?” Sayida asks Esteban.

“Better. Instead of feeling like I took a mace to my skull, it feels like one of Dez’s right hooks.” He takes a swig from his flask. Dark eyes roam the canopy above, the trees that conceal the stars and give nest to all sorts of critters. He offers it to Sayida, who declines.

“You’ll be able to see across far distances yet,” Margo says, ripping bread with her fingers. She washes it down with her waterskin, giving him a broad smile. “Your duties as a postmate will be complete.”