incapable of proper human emotion and intelligence. Others saw them as weak and overly sensitive, weeping at the death of every rat and cockroach and wanting to make even the lowliest creatures their pets and playmates.
Sev supposed that last part was true. On the farm, he’d had all manner of animal companions, but that didn’t mean he was incapable of understanding that some animals had to be killed so that he could eat, that some beasts plowed fields and pulled carts, that they worked just the same as humans did.
Regardless, one truth universally acknowledged was that animages could feel the emotions of the animals around them. They felt their pain and their panic, sometimes connecting with them more deeply than they did with humans. It made them vulnerable, and Captain Belden had just exploited that fact.
As Kade and Sev stared down at the dead animal, Belden carefully cleaned his blade with a handkerchief his attendant gave him, the fine fabric stitched with his golden monogram. He did it slowly, almost reverently, and the care was in stark contrast to his rash, thoughtless treatment of the llama.
“You will now report to Officer Lyle and assist our hunting unit,” he said to Kade, who visibly forced himself to straighten and face the man. “If you are caught anywhere near the pack animals, you will face strict discipline. Do you understand me, mageslave?”
Kade’s nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched as he nodded. “Yes, sir,” he grit out.
“We cannot afford to be delayed,” Belden continued idly, examining the knife closely before removing one last speck of blood. “By anything.”
He stared fixedly at Kade when he spoke the last two words. Sev understood the threat plainly. This time it was the llama; next time it will be you. Belden returned his weapon to its sheath and the blood-soaked rag to the attendant, then strode back to the front of the convoy.
“I’ll deal with you later, soldier,” Officer Yara said, following the captain up the line.
Sev looked at Kade, expecting to see anger or disappointment on his face. The hunting party was the worst duty available to an animage, who had to use their magic to lure in unsuspecting animals to be slaughtered. When Kade met his eye, however, he didn’t look upset—he looked panicked, his gaze darting around the clearing, face leeched of color. That’s when realization dawned on Sev for the first time.
Trix’s mission.
He had no idea what Kade’s task was—or for that matter, what his own was—but Kade had obviously been assigned to the pack animals for a reason.
And Sev had just screwed everything up.
Two soldiers dragged the llama carcass off to the side of the path, out of the way, while a handful of bondservants reclaimed the supplies that were strapped to its back. Objects, not life, were valuable here, and Sev was struck by the senselessness of it all. The creature had died in vain, for his selfish decisions, and worse, he’d somehow managed to drag Kade and Trix into it.
As the line started moving, Sev saw the old woman up ahead, staring at him.
He looked away.
Long have the Ashfires bled— and burned—for our right to rule.
- CHAPTER 18 -
TRISTAN
TRISTAN SKIPPED LUNCH.
The rest of the apprentices were probably talking about what had just happened, and he didn’t want to deprive them of the opportunity to gossip. The commander and his son, at odds again.
Rather than turning right toward the dining hall, he turned left, around the side of the temple and back to the apprentice barracks.
Inside, he paced.
Quiet as the mountain. Still as the mountain. Calm as the—
A surge of frustration reared up, and Tristan whirled, throwing a punch clean through the wall.
As quickly as his anger came, it leaked away. He sighed loudly, forcing the air from his lungs. He examined the hole in the wall, then his banged-up knuckles. Luckily, the wall was more of a screen, made from wooden slats woven together and not the heavy planks they used in the valley.
If the wall had been board or stone, like the exterior walls of the barracks, he’d have broken his hand. He laughed darkly, imagining how he’d explain that kind of injury to the commander. His knuckles bled, the skin scraped clean off, and the wall had obvious damage. He’d have to get the servants to fix it and hope his father never found out.
Tristan sank onto his hammock, swaying idly back and forth. The barracks was a long, narrow building, filled with fabric slings instead of wooden