He stares west into the night. “They’re heading for the pass.”
The men exchange silent looks. No one speaks, but we all understand we need to move faster. There’s no telling what Jamis has planned, only that he seems to have a plan in place. If anything, the former high lord is one of the cleverest and most vindictive men I’ve ever met. I feel like we’re heading into a brewing storm. The kind that requires bringing extra buckets of water inside, stocking the firewood, and nailing the windows shut. Instincts tell me that if we cannot stop Jamis soon, his destruction will blizzard over Malam with a vengeance.
I think of Finn’s roundabout advice and shake my head. There are no woodpiles out here. I’d rather face Britta’s anger than let her charge into the squall.
We drive the horses hard up the mountain, stopping now and then to ensure we’re on the right path. In the past, Siron’s led the pack. Tonight, however, Captain Omar and Ulrich take the head position.
The farther we ride, though, the more the captain’s horse slows. Siron cannot help but edge up beside the lead horses. Gut instinct tells me something is off.
When we’re side by side, I notice Captain Omar patting the animal’s withers.
“You all right?” I ask.
The man’s frown is fierce. “He’s been fed, watered, and rested.” He strokes his beard. “He’s lagging. It makes no sense.”
The trees open up and we cut through a clearing. The moonlight glistens on Captain Omar’s horse where sweat has slicked over its coat.
“He’s laboring pretty hard.” I point out the foam around his haunches. “We should stop.”
The captain curses and stares off in the distance, want evident on his features. Any break we take will give Jamis more of a lead, but it cannot be helped. His horse is in a bad way.
Omar takes my advice and dismounts.
The horse huffs out a shaky breath as the captain examines his bit and reins. Hooves stomp the ground. The animal jerks, shaking his head side to side like he’s trying to break out of his skin.
“You better move back,” Leif cautions.
I agree. This behavior isn’t normal.
“Settle,” Captain Omar commands. He reaches for the horse’s bit. I think he’s going to remove it. Only the animal paws the ground, blows out a hard breath, and rears.
“Omar!” I shout in warning, but the captain doesn’t have time to react. His horse’s hooves rake the air and then come down hard, knocking the man in the head and chest. Omar crumbles to the ground.
One of the other men gasps. In that millisecond, I wait expectantly for Omar to roll to his side and stand.
He doesn’t move.
We’re all off our horses and rushing to the captain’s side. Omar’s horse darts into the woods before any of us have a chance to subdue the beast.
Shock chokes me. Did this just happen?
I drop to a knee, all thoughts gone aside from the fear that Captain Omar might possibly be dead, or very close to death. Could he survive the horse’s blow? No matter how many times I see death, it always surprises me. A person is there, and then they’re gone. So fast. I was just talking to him, and now he’s so still. A mark the shape of a horse’s hoof is purpling on his forehead. Blood leaks from the edge of the wound.
I pray there’s life still left in his body.
“Omar?” I touch his shoulder.
He doesn’t move. I stare at his chest where the other hoof left it concaved.
Watch for the rise and fall.
Breathe, Omar.
I find myself waiting until my own lungs burn.
Chapter
24
Britta
AFTER THREE ATTEMPTS TO COAX GILLIAN away from the center of the Great Hall, I forgo niceties and yank her arm toward the columns lining the room. Her glare could burn my skin off. Who knew it’d be easier to get Gillian’s fat heifer to lay an egg than get Gillian to leave the throng of lords?
Once we’re tucked behind a column, I explain my urgency, telling her what Cohen told me about Lord Jamis. Her anger seems to fade as I sum up my purpose for dragging her away. “I need the carriage driver to take me home so I can grab Snowfire, a change of clothing, some food for travel, and my bow. But I’m not good at talking. I need you to secure a driver for my departure. And excuse my absence to the king.”
She sputters at me.
I put on my best hopeful smile.
“You want a royal driver to see you to the cottage so you can grab a change of clothes and your bow?” A squeak marks her question. She purses her lips.
“Yes.” I lift my skirt and wiggle my boot, indicating where my dagger is. Always.
“Boots, Britta?” She huffs and growls all at once. “Where are the slippers I gave you?”
“Focus, Gillian. Boots are not the issue.”
She folds her arms. “The answer is no.”
“No? Why not?”
“Britta, you cannot leave. He hasn’t granted you noble status yet.”
“That doesn’t matter. Lord Jamis is—”
Her eyes flare. Her lips go between her teeth. I glance over my shoulder, noticing the awful guard has taken up post near the column.
Motioning for her to follow, I walk to a private spot near the west corridor. Gillian has a way with words that I’ve never managed. I’m awkward at best. I plead with her once more.
“Why are you so determined?” she asks.
“I have to do this,” I tell Gillian. “I have to go after him.”
She gets a far-off look in her eyes. Servants move in and out of the room, bringing food to the tables, pouring goblets of wine, and placing name cards in front of plates. “If you leave now, you might anger the king. You could lose your chance.” She turns to me, determined. “I cannot let you do that.”
“Dammit, Gillian—”
“But—but I’ll go for you.” Her hand fists around the fan. Her mouth puckers like she’s swallowed a bushel of lemons. “I’d rather you didn’t go at all. If you must, let me gather your supplies while you stay here.”
“That makes no sense.”
“You’ll have time for the king to elevate you to the nobility. And I’m a maid. No one will notice if I leave.”
My first instinct is to say no. It’ll put me that much farther behind Cohen.
I start to shake my head when she grips my arm and tugs me closer. “How do you expect me to get a message to the king? Imagine how he’ll react if he announces your change in status and you’re not here.”
I chew my lip. She’s brought up an issue I hadn’t considered.
“The last thing you can afford to do is embarrass or anger him.”
Gillian’s logic is frustrating.
“All right,” I say. “You go. I’ll stay.”
“Really?”
“Don’t look so shocked. I’m not that big a fool.”
The pleased smile that spreads across her face. She makes me promise I’ll mingle. Which won’t happen. And then agree to thank the king. I’ll consider it.
She starts to walk away and then makes an abrupt turn back. “What about Lirra?”
Though I prefer to travel alone, it’s safer to go together. “Have her pack up her horse. She’ll go with me.”