“You look like a real mainlander in Billy’s clothes.”
“Ha. Can you believe they nearly fit?” Arsinoe holds up her arms. Then she frowns. “Listen, Jules, I can’t go with you after Madrigal.”
“What? Arsinoe—”
“I’ve got to go on. I’ve got to go up the mountain. I can’t explain it. I just know I have to.”
“Can’t it wait even a few more days? We’ll ride fast through the pass to the valley—”
“No. I’m sorry. If there’d been more time . . . if I’d told you more of what I’d seen . . . what I’d dreamed, maybe you’d understand.” She puts a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “But it will be fine, Jules. You don’t really need me anyway. Mira is more than enough.”
Jules frowns. “It would just feel better having you there with me.”
“I know. I wish . . . ,” Arsinoe starts, but does not know how to finish.
“Are you sure? I can’t wait around for you to change your mind.”
Hoofbeats clatter, and the warriors trot into the square, with Emilia leading on a horse as red as blood. A dozen warriors ride behind her, and Mathilde and Billy ride beside. Mirabella brings up the rear on a dappled gray, looking oddly uncomfortable on horseback.
“Fifteen,” Arsinoe says. “You can bet Katharine will bring fifteen hundred.”
“We won’t need that number. It is an ambush, not a battle, remember?” Jules and Arsinoe go forward to meet her mount, a stunning black gelding with four white stockings and a crescent on his forehead.
“Isn’t that Katharine’s horse?”
Jules takes the reins and grins as she leaps onto his back.
“The same one I stole the day of the hunt.” She pats his neck. “And still every bit as game as when he carried you half-dead through the mountains.”
“How fitting.” Arsinoe strokes his nose. “You should give him a name.”
“Or maybe I’ll just ask Katharine what it is.”
Emilia rides up close. “Another scout has returned,” she says. “Katharine has reached the valley and set up camp. She has put the war-gifted priestess Rho Murtra at the head of her army.”
“A fine thing,” Mathilde adds sarcastically, “ousting the warrior on the council and replacing her with a warrior priestess who, by the laws of the temple, should not acknowledge her gift. We are not the only ones shedding the old ways.”
The horses shift, and Arsinoe is jostled out of the way, farther from Jules as she greets her warriors. On the edges of the square, the rest of her army waits, silent. A united army, of many gifts. Soldiers with hawks on their shoulders. Others with flickers of flame darting across their knuckles. And many with the seers’ steely eyes and bright white braids.
“She should bring more,” says Arsinoe as Mirabella and Billy maneuver their horses to stand close by.
“No, the seer is right,” says Mirabella. “They are not ready and still too few. If they stood before the queensguard now, most would die.” She turns her eager horse in a tight circle. With her hair obscured by the scarf and hood, and in her mainlander clothes, she could truly be anyone.
“They’re whispering about you now that you ride with the Legion Queen,” Billy notes. “Wondering who you are. Why don’t you take the hood down and show them?”
Mirabella shakes her head. “Emilia is still unsure. She wants me to stay hidden unless I am forced to show myself.” She glances at Arsinoe pointedly. “And I agree with her.”
“Arsinoe, do you want help into the saddle?” Billy asks.
“I’m not coming,” Arsinoe says, and winces.
“What?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for getting you into this, first volunteering and then not going myself, but I have to go to the mountain. I saw her again last night. The shadow. She made me dream of the mist and showed me what it could do.”
Mirabella and Billy look at each other, and Billy shrugs and slides down from his horse.
“Then I’m not going either,” he says. “I’m coming with you.”
Mirabella presses her lips together, and Arsinoe holds her breath. Jules’s plan will not work without her.
“I will still go,” Mirabella says finally.
“Are you sure?” Arsinoe asks, and exhales.
“Yes. You go and take care of the mist. I will take care of our little sister.” She looks at Arsinoe with a gentle expression. “And I will look after Jules. I promise.”
“Look after yourself, too,” Arsinoe says. “If our sister sees you—”
“I have not been poisoned this time. This time, if she sees me it will be different. Very different.”
Emilia wheels her horse and canters around the group in a tight circle; the riders put heels to their mounts and make for the gate.
“Time to go,” Mirabella says, and clicks to the dappled gray awkwardly.
“I never knew you couldn’t ride.”
“I can,” she calls over her shoulder as she bounces away. “I just spent more time in carriages!”
Arsinoe grunts as Camden jumps up and puts her paws on Arsinoe’s chest. Jules has turned back and rides toward her and Billy with a regretful face.
“You’ll be left behind,” says Billy.
“I’m their leader. They can’t go far without me.” Jules smiles. She is afraid, but she is also exhilarated. She will ride hard to catch up. She will charge the field. She has become a warrior. “Are you two sure you’ll be all right? I’ve heard Mount Horn is . . . an unforgiving place.”
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Arsinoe asks, but instead of answering, Jules reaches into her saddlebag and pulls out a knife. She tosses it to Arsinoe handle first.
“Take your bear with you at least,” she says, and rides away. Camden gives Arsinoe’s cheek another lick before running off after Jules.
After the ambush party is gone, the square empties. The rebels return to their work, preparing weapons and storing food. Repairing the city that has worn down and crumbled over the centuries. It is strange to watch them return so quickly to their task, while Arsinoe stares after Jules and Mirabella until long after they are out of sight. Finally, she and Billy gather up their packs. No one pays them any mind, even when the scarf slips down and reveals Arsinoe’s scars.
They leave through the main gate and keep the mountain in their sights. Billy rummages in his pack and pulls out a small bundle of papers.
“I’ve been looking over maps—well, what maps I could find here—and trying to determine the best route to take,” he says. “A girl who lives in a village near the western foot says there are caves and a good-sized one if we follow the trail along this stream.” He riffles through the papers and holds up a map of Mount Horn. “The last stretch will be a slightly difficult climb, but I think it’s our best shot. Will that be far enough up to satisfy the Blue Queen, do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Arsinoe replies, studying the route. The cave he indicates is still farther up the mountain than she wanted to go. “I hope so.”
“I can’t believe you almost let me go with Jules and Mira. Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”
“I didn’t think of it. And I figured you were still angry.”
“Is that it? Or are you just trying to politely get rid of me? You keep trying to leave me behind; should I be taking the hint?”
“No, I—”
“Because I don’t want to keep on where I’m not wanted.”
“Of course I—” She growls in frustration, and they are both suddenly very aware she is still holding the knife that Jules gave her.
“What are you going to do?” he asks. “Gut me?”
“Of course not. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what lies at the top of that mountain. But I do know that it’s all for the hope of something else. A future somewhere, with you. And I’m sorry I can’t say that when I’m not holding you at knifepoint. All right?”
“All right,” he says, and grins. His grin changes to a grimace as she uses the knife to cut into her palm. “And now you’re slicing your hand open.”
“I’m calling Braddock, like Jules suggested.” She walks to the nearest tree and smears her blood against the bark.