The Queen's Assassin (The Queen's Secret #1)(35)

I’m yanked to my feet, but my legs give out under me. The guard pulls me again and drags me along while I shuffle and scurry to get my bearings.

The guard laughs. “Tricky little witch, are you? Didn’t expect that, I bet.” He laughs.

My vision is blurred, but becoming clearer. I zero in on something I hadn’t noticed before: He’s wearing a shiny black plate over his chest. Not full-vest armor, just a diamond-shaped piece of dark metal sewn into his uniform. No, not metal, it looks almost like black liquid flowing directly under the surface.

Is it some sort of shield? It has to be; it repelled my magic.

“Hang on. They’re slowin’ us down. Let’s throw ’em on the horse,” one of the guards says about me and Cal. “I’m not carrying this kid all the way.”

“Fine,” the guard with the black shield responds. He lifts me up and tosses me, stomach down, onto a horse. They think we’re too weakened to put up much of a fight. Two of them walk in front and lead the horses; the other two walk behind us. I move my head enough to see Cal on the horse next to me. His wrists are tied behind his back, as are mine, but if I can regain enough energy . . . maybe I can try again.

I try to see if the other guards have the same protective plate on their chests, but it’s too difficult to see. The shield deflected a force of energy directed at a specific person, but can it deflect a natural spell? Can it stop a weirding call? There’s only one way to find out.

Besides, what were Deersia prison guards doing out in the woods anyway?

This doesn’t make sense. We were far from the main gate, which was bolted shut, and almost all the guards were busy at that card game. So why were they here . . . ?

That’s when the truth hits me.

These are not Deersia prison guards.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Caledon

CAL REFUSES TO GO BACK to that squalid cell. Even if it means dying. For now, though, he’ll pretend to be cowed and shackled. Let them think they have him while he formulates a better escape plan. But it’s hard to think. He is light-headed and slung over the back of a horse, which is jostling him around like cargo, making his ribs ache. He can’t even use his arms to adjust his body or steady himself.

His hands are tied—quite literally. Shadow keeps trying to tell him something, motioning her eyes toward the guards, but he doesn’t understand what she’s trying to say. If only she would just let him focus for a minute. He can admit she’s better trained than he’d thought, but she’s far too eager and impulsive. He hasn’t survived all this time by not knowing when to step back and think before acting.

She’s mouthing something to him—he can’t make it out. Uprising? Off—something? Afraid of them? The caravan slows, and one of the guards walks his horse up closer to her as she rolls her eyes back in her head and begins muttering gibberish, as if she were severely injured and disoriented. Cal stays still and shuts his eyes as much as he can while peeking through a tiny sliver, enough to know if the guard comes toward him, but not enough to look fully conscious. The guard studies Shadow before stepping back behind the horses again, next to the other guard, apparently satisfied that she’s not a threat.

Maybe he can slide off the back of the horse, kick the guard—if he’s really lucky, he can kick one into the other, and together they can take the other two? But can he count on her to carry her own weight in this attack?

Shadow still has her eyes closed, and has started mumbling under her breath. What’s she doing?

An owl hoots. Wings flap overhead. Another hoot. Owls begin to descend from the skies. Shadow opens her eyes to look. Then she closes them again.

This time, a wolf howls; then another, a whole pack, it sounds like. Cal wishes he had his full strength; he’ll need it to get them out of these woods alive if there are nightwolves out here.

The guards unsheathe their swords, look around nervously. “Better move faster,” one yells. The horses hesitate, lurching back a bit before being spurred forward.

There’s a chorus of flapping wings and howling, and the howling is getting closer. Shadow’s face is scrunched in concentration and she continues to mouth something over and over again. The horses keep moving, but slower and with increasing reluctance.

Cal realizes what she’s doing. Somehow she’s communicating with the owls and wolves, maybe the horses too. He’s heard of this kind of magic, but never seen it done—he didn’t think anyone could do that anymore.

Shadow might not be so bad to have around after all. He wonders if she may even be able to teach him a few things. Despite many attempts to learn over the years, Cal was never gifted in the magical side of Guild training. He’s like his father in that way.

The owls dive down out of the treetops, swarming around the horses.

The guards bat them away, to no avail. The owls screech and peck, and the howls are getting closer. The horses rear and Cal is tossed from the saddle. He rolls to the ground.

In the chaos, Cal sees his chance. He yanks on his restraints and leaps to his feet. He looks for Shadow but doesn’t see her.

Owls are still swooping overhead, and the horses bolt. The men scream, and through the commotion he catches sight of her sleeve and fights his way to her side.

Shadow is standing stock-still in the middle of the melee, her eyes closed and lips moving, even as a guard holds a blade to her neck.