Endure - Sara B. Larson Page 0,83

Tubatse. And above it, on the hill across from us, rose the walls that surrounded the palace.

I stared at my former home, straining to see any sign of life. Heavy, dark clouds, pregnant with rain, strained above us, preparing to unleash their load at any moment. But after waiting for long minutes, hoping to see something — anything — that would defy the rumors, I had to accept what I was seeing.

The capital city and the palace of Antion were completely abandoned.

The gate to the palace wall was already open when we rode up to it after crossing through the empty city, passing one abandoned house after another. The only consolation was that it appeared to have been voluntary. There were no signs of fighting or destruction.

I urged Nia past the wall, just to make sure. I had to be absolutely certain that no one was in the palace before I moved on. I didn’t even know where to go now. My whole focus had been to get here — to get to Damian. But as we circled the empty grounds I had to face the reality that no one was there, including the king.

Weeds had already sprung up everywhere, the tenacious jungle reclaiming its ground as quickly as possible now that there was no one to hold it at bay. I guided Nia over to the stables where Damian had kept his horse, but it, too, was empty. I dismounted and let her eat what little bit of food for the horses was left.

While she ate, I turned to face the palace. The silence was strangely deafening — and unnerving. The tent city of displaced women and babies was gone; the army and guards were all gone. No sounds of sparring, or sentinels changing shifts. There was no movement behind the windows of the palace. Only the dark reflection of the storm building in the sky above us.

I looped Nia’s reins over one of the bars inside the stable and then strode across the hard ground toward the palace, just as the first few fat drops of rain plopped against my face and arms. I broke into a run, but the storm broke faster, turning into a deluge in mere seconds. I was completely soaked by the time I rushed up the stairs — the same ones where I’d fought Iker — and then stopped in front of the massive door that filled the main entrance to the palace. I hesitated for some reason, but then forced myself to reach for the handle and try it. The door ground open; they’d left it unlocked.

Once inside, I left the door ajar so more light would illuminate the dark, empty palace. There were no candles, no torches or fires, to break up the gloom from the storm. Despite the thick humidity in the air, I couldn’t keep from shivering. The wounds that were finally almost healed in the crooks of my elbows still caused a ping of pain when I bent my arms to wrap them around my body and walked purposefully forward.

There was no reason to be afraid, I told myself. No one was here. I’d hurry and get what I needed and then continue on. Surely, so many people trekking through the jungle would leave a distinct path, despite the constant rain that would have washed away their tracks. But where on earth could they have gone?

Shaking off my paranoia, I hurried toward the stairs and ran up to my old room, pushing the door open and then striding straight over to my guard uniforms. I practically tore the Dansiian clothes from my body in my rush to get them off. Once they were in a wet pile on the ground, I reached for the dry, familiar clothes I’d worn for years as Damian’s personal guard. I paused after pulling on my pants, before yanking the shirt over my head, to stare down at the scars on my arms. The slashes where The Summoner had punctured my skin with his disgusting device were red and angry looking, but at least they didn’t appear to be getting infected as they healed. Akio had managed to heal my shoulder completely, my new scars blending in with the old ones Iker had given me. Thinking of Akio reminded me of that horrible night in Bikoro, and his death. I shook away those memories, forcing them to the recesses of my mind as I finished dressing, pulled on the extra pair of boots