A Queen of Thieves & Chaos (Fate & Flame, #3)

Caindra snarls again.

“Seriously, do you have a death wish?” I reach out to smooth my hand over her snout again. At some point, I released the hold on my affinities, and I only realize it now. “Sorry, he’s an ass, but he protects me well.”

Her nostrils flare and a puff of hot air hits me.

“You saw what she did in Cirilea with the fire,” Jarek pushes. “She could wipe out even Neilina’s strongest fighters.”

“But we need them against the Nulling. No, I need to be the one to do this.”

“Neilina’s casters would kill you before you got close.”

“Maybe not. As far as we know, Neilina still thinks I’m her daughter.” And Gesine seemed to think that the elemental caster on the other end of the taillok might have held back details about what she saw that day Kienen brought it to Ulysede’s gates, that I have allies within Mordain and Ybaris.

My gaze drifts over Caindra’s wings, tucked at her sides. They remind me of a bat’s—webbed and leathery. “If there was a way for Caindra to get us to the rift—”

My words aren’t finished before a clawed foot curls around my body. With a deafening roar, her powerful wings beat the air as we climb into the sky. A scream of terror rips from my lungs.





CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE




ZANDER


The entrance to the rift’s pass grinds open.

I marvel at the mechanics of the wall as we wait. According to old texts within Cirilea’s library, King Rhionn returned from Ybaris not only with Key Caster Farren but also with several stone casters. He tasked them with building this great gate of sorts to match the one Ybaris built on their end, to keep the Islorians out after the blood curse arrived.

What they produced was almost identical. It’s twenty feet thick and stretches thirty feet on either side of the natural bridge between realms, making it impossible for anyone to navigate around. It reaches a hundred feet high, making it equally impossible to scale over. Even an elven would break every bone in their body were they to jump. Nothing short of an army of casters could destroy this, or perhaps a pyre of wyverns.

The gate itself? Thick, impenetrable rock that works much like the tunnel in Bellcross’s city wall, a puzzle of blocks that shift until an opening appears.

Two spiral staircases on either side give access to the parapet, where watchmen keep an eye on the other side’s activities. They were the ones who sent word that the gate on the other side had opened, bringing us here.

Telor waits beside me. “Are you sure you wish to risk yourself this way? She cannot be trusted to respect the rules of war.”

“No, she cannot. But I would not ask this of anyone else.” And no one here has a chance at standing against Neilina. “My legionaries will join me.” I nod toward Gaellar. “I am sure your commander will appreciate your guidance should something befall me.”

“Nothing shall befall you, Your Highness,” Abarrane says with grim determination, but even she wears a furrowed brow.

“Would you prefer me at your side or remaining here, Your Highness?” Kienen asks.

“It is best she has no idea we have joined alliances yet.”

He dips his head. “Her affinity to Vin’nyla is strong. Do not get too close to her or she can steal the air from your lungs. Within fifteen feet is too close.”

“I have heard the rumors.” It’s times like these when I wish I had been gifted a different affinity at birth. There are always air and earth materials to wield. But access to fire and water is never guaranteed. Still, we improvise. Behind me, several legionaries carry flaming torches, though the afternoon sun is still high in the sky. “Anything else I should know?”

“The Shadow leader’s name is Solange. She is a Second in Mordain’s guild, below only the Prime, and she has an impressive affinity to Malachi.”

“Will she use it?”

“If Queen Neilina orders her to, yes. But she despises how little autonomy Mordain has, and how the guild constantly bends to the queen’s will. She has long since wished to break free of Ybarisan rule, but it is impossible with this queen.”

Wendeline once explained the complications around their union, how Neilina has held caster babies hostage in exchange for elementals and loyalty. “And you know this how?”

“The Shadows train with the elven warriors sometimes. Solange has been my opponent more than once.” His gaze flitters to Abarrane, telling me all I need to know about the kind of sparring they’ve done. “Convincing her of the queen’s treachery may carry some weight. Perhaps.”

“I will keep that in mind. Thank you for the input, Kienen.”

“Your Highness.” He steps away.

And I can’t help but marvel that not one but two unlikely allies have proven themselves invaluable during this journey.

Finally, the stone wall gives way to an opening and the path beyond—a bridge about forty feet wide that remained after Aminadav’s smite. It’s as if even in his fury, he left us an olive branch.

In the far distance, four rows of Mordain’s Shadows ride in formation toward us, their black armor unmistakable even from here. Glints of gold gleam every so often, hints that Neilina is tucked in there with them.

I don’t hide behind the Legion as we approach, remaining front and center, clinging to the nearby torch flames. Little good it will do if Neilina’s elementals have a shield up.

High above on both sides, the vigilant spectators watch, searching for any hint of betrayal. Not that arrows or affinities could reach us in the center of the bridge, over the endless chasm.

The trek to the middle is long, with riders avoiding getting too close to the edge. Below is the Valley of Bones—an assumed resting place for all those who have tumbled into the rift during battle, though we cannot see the bottom from here.

“What is your plan?” Abarrane twirls a dagger between her fingers.

“To see what she knows of Romeria and to seed doubt in those around her.” I will never be able to kill Neilina, but if I can convince her casters of her duplicity as we convinced Kienen, maybe we can win ourselves more unlikely allies on the other side.

“And do you really believe you can sway the Shadows?”

“I honestly have no idea, but this isn’t a battle we can win alone.” We may very well be heading to our deaths. But maybe I can stall them with the truth of what is coming.

The finer details of the lethal warriors are more recognizable now—the muted steel armor over black garb, the metal masks that cover all but their line of sight.

“They haven’t changed much,” Abarrane notes.

“Their uniforms have not changed, but the casters within them have.” The ones we fought last died long ago from old age. Many of these will be young and inexperienced. None of them will have even seen war. Still, I wouldn’t dismiss their skill. “Halt!” I call out ten feet from a center line carved into the stone.

The Ybarisans match the distance.