Several erupted in surprise, but none were louder than Raithe. He shoved his way past Alward and Tegan to confront the lord of the Rhist. “By who?”
“A raow. It slipped into her room and might have killed her if it hadn’t been for Sebek and Tesh.”
Raithe turned around to glare at Tesh, who stood in the crowd of soldiers, looking guilty. “You didn’t tell me?”
“You were asleep,” the kid said. “And it was over, and there was this big battle today, and—”
“Persephone was hurt, but she’ll be fine,” Nyphron assured everyone.
Raithe fumed. He whirled back at Nyphron. “So, a raow is allowed in the Kype, but I’m not?”
“It wasn’t allowed in, and this proves the necessity for tight security, doesn’t it?”
That smug look, that lie told right to his face. Raithe wanted to kill Nyphron at that moment more than he’d ever wanted to kill anyone. Security had nothing to do with it. The other chieftains petitioned for audiences and received them, but Raithe was always refused. Not refused—no, nothing so definitive—he was merely delayed, delayed indefinitely. For months, he’d believed Persephone didn’t want to see him. That’s what he’d been told, and foolishly he believed it. Looking at Nyphron, he was now certain Persephone had become a prisoner in the Kype. Nyphron was keeping them apart, turning her into a puppet.
Maybe not even a puppet. Maybe there was no raow. What is to stop him from killing her and saying he’s taking orders from her? She might already be dead.
Raithe took a step forward and glared at Nyphron. “After this battle, I’m seeing her whether you like it or not. Bar the door to the Kype, and I’ll get Suri to melt that Tetlin bronze to a puddle. Do you understand?”
“We’re all on the same side here,” Nyphron said. “We’re all allies in this fight.”
“I doubt that. I’m not even sure you know what the word allies means.”
“I’m not your enemy, Raithe,” he said this with a steady, reassuring calm. “The elves are outside the walls.”
Raithe narrowed his eyes. One battle at a time.
* * *
—
Tekchin found Moya near the front gate.
“I’m going with you,” he said.
Moya jumped. He had a knack for sneaking up on her. “No, you’re not. You’re lousy with a bow.”
Moya was filling her sack from the pile of arrows stacked under the parapet ledge. In only a few months, Roan had worked wonders. There were thousands, maybe tens of thousands, of the feathered shafts, each with a metal tip provided by Roan and her army of smiths. As with the bows, armor, and swords, Roan had taught others her methods, and they in turn worked each day adding to the pile. Moya’s own bow—which she had named Audrey after her late mother because they were both so tightly strung—had been made by Roan from the heartwood of Magda. The weapon was special, believed by many to be magical. How else could Moya—a woman—be so proficient with a weapon?
“I don’t need a bow. I’ll be your Shield,” he told her.
“Shields don’t have Shields. You want to be a Shield, sub for me with Persephone. She needs protecting, and I can’t be in two places at once.”
“But Persephone isn’t you.”
Moya paused with a fist full of arrows and turned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means.”
She dropped the arrows in the sack and slung the strap over her shoulder. “No, I don’t. Enlighten me.”
He frowned. “I’d be very upset if something happened to you.”
Moya smirked. “Of course you would. But don’t worry, spring is here, so you won’t need me to keep you warm at night anymore. I’m sure there are plenty of Fhrey girls you can—”
“I don’t want them. I want you.”
“Why?” she asked, and looked Tekchin in the eye, daring him.
“Because I have feelings for you. I care about you.”
“Not good enough.” She hooked a skin of water around her neck and turned to her bowmen. “Filson,” she shouted. “Make sure everyone has water.”
“What do you want me to say?” Tekchin asked, frustrated.
She didn’t mean to be cruel. She knew how he felt; Moya just wasn’t certain if he did. “I don’t want you to say anything. I just want to know if there’s anything you want to say?”
“If I say it now, it’ll be coerced.”
She nodded. “I can see that.”
“Then just let me say this instead.” Tekchin circled an arm around her waist and pulled her tight. Holding her head, he kissed her hard. When he finally let up, she was desperate for air.
Taking a breath, Moya felt dazed. She nodded. “Very well put.”
* * *
—
Tesh joined Raithe at the gate with the rest of the men, wearing a water skin and his dual swords. He was as tall as any of them, taller than some. Being sixteen made him a man in almost everyone’s eyes, but to Raithe, he was still a kid.
“You aren’t going,” Raithe told him as he adjusted the placement of his knife on his waist belt.
“What do you mean?” The kid was a ball of energy, bouncing on his feet.
“I mean you aren’t going. You’re staying here.”
“I’m a soldier in the First Spear, and I’m your Shield.”