He wondered how to respond. “A good friend of mine, like a mother to me, was killed in a raid. It’s hard for me to think about them.”
To his surprise, Adele’s features softened in understanding. “I lost two brothers and a sister to raids. It saddens me still.”
Idalee looked up from her bread, dropping a piece of cheese on the blanket. “Your clan was raided?”
Adele nodded, surprised at Idalee’s surprise. “By another clan.”
“Did this happen often?” asked Flick.
“There were many of us over the mountains,” said Stepan.
“And you were constantly at war?”
“There were many of us,” said Adele again, as if that were the answer to his question.
Flick chose his next words carefully. “Did anyone try to put a stop to the fighting? I imagine it would have been taxing on your people.”
Adele and Stepan looked at each other for the length of several breaths. “That is not the way we do things,” said Adele.
At that moment, both the Demon Riders looked toward the road. Flick had been around Makvani enough times now to realize that they were hearing something he couldn’t. He turned and saw a rider in official Palace colors coming from the city. News from the Palace, and it must have been important if a herald had come to announce it. Flick exchanged glances with Idalee. The last courier to be sent out like this had borne a description of Kyra and an announcement for the bounty on her head.
“Mercie will know the news when she comes back,” said Idalee.
“It might be too late by then,” said Flick. Idalee didn’t argue, and Flick stood. “I’m very sorry, but I must go.”
“I understand,” said Adele. The two Demon Riders dusted the bread crumbs from their clothes and left with little ceremony.
Flick looked back toward the city. The heralds traveled the main roads, stopping to announce their news at crossroads, squares, and inns along the way. “There’s an inn up the road,” he said. “If it’s important news, the people there’ll be talking about it.”
“Will you go by yourself?” asked Idalee.
He nodded. “I’ll be careful.”
The fields were quiet, and every farmhouse he passed had smoke coming out of its chimney. Folk were holed up inside, where it was warm. It was a long walk past the farms, but as he came closer to the inn, he noticed more people than usual about on the road. Flick slowed and listened for snippets of conversation.
…A Palace building burned down….
…magistrate make an example of him…
His pulse quickened, and he ducked into the inn’s dining room. It was a small establishment compared with the ones in the city, but it should be busy enough to get him the news he needed.
The energy level inside was certainly high. While the dining room was usually divided into separate tables, the majority of the patrons were seated near the center, participating in one big, disorganized discussion.
“They say he single-handedly took out a dozen Red Shields,” one potbellied man was saying. “And his lackeys killed even more with that fire.”
Flick took a seat near the side and settled down to listen.
T W E N T Y
Leyus was her father.
Even after she said good-bye to Craigson and started making her way back to her cave, the knowledge sat awkwardly in her mind. Kyra circled it warily, afraid to delve too deeply, yet unable to forget it.
You don’t choose your family. Kyra had known this. Yet in her imaginings, she’d still conjured the warm, loving parents that every orphan wanted. This hope had taken a blow when she learned she was half Makvani, but even then, she hadn’t completely given it up. She’d just re-created the picture into someone like Pashla—dangerous yet gentle.