Fortune Favors the Cruel - Kel Carpenter Page 0,102

side with the heel of his boot, kicking the horse’s speed up a notch.

“When we get to the city, I want you to take the others and find lodging. I will want to meet with Imogen myself,” he said.

Draeven jerked his head to the side. “I will accompany you,” he replied.

“No.” Lazarus turned his gaze forward once more. “Quinn will accompany me.”

“But—”

“What’s that?” Dominicus’ voice rose above the clomping of their horses’ hooves in the dirt. Both Draeven and Lazarus scanned the horizon for whatever he had seen.

Up ahead, riding towards them at a more sedate pace was a small battalion of white and blue clothed Ilvasian soldiers. Lazarus sat up and Bastian slowed beneath him.

Draeven shot his master a look. “They must have received your message,” he said. There was no hiding the small hint of relief in the man’s voice.

Lazarus stared ahead, watching the approaching soldiers. “Yes,” he said. “Thorne came through.”

“Did you doubt my King?” Vaughn asked as he approached the two of them. Lazarus’ horse came to a stop and with it, the others followed.

Beyond the advancing troupe, the flags of Ilvas fluttered in the early morning wind. A horse neighed. Several of Lazarus’ group panted with the force they had exerted to get this far, though not Quinn, he noted, keeping his eyes on the horizon, watching the men in uniform. Something felt off. Had he and the others truly outrun the enemy?

Quinn’s horse pushed between him and Vaughn as she came upon his right side. He turned his gaze and examined her. Her eyes, however, remained trained forward, her back straight. Is it just her? Lazarus wondered. Something was putting him off…

The Ilvas guard was approaching, likely to offer them the assistance he had requested of Imogen.

“Something isn’t right.” Quinn’s voice was like silk in his ears—silk stained red.

“What—” Before Draeven could finish asking her what she meant, an arrow was released and flew right between him and Quinn. It slid perfectly between the spaces of their bodies—a warning of their impending altercation.

Quinn growled low under her breath, taking up the reins of her horse. The creature neighed and stomped its hooves beneath her, obviously still uncomfortable with its rider, but Quinn’s body slid along the horse’s back as though she were one with the animal. She remained unphased by its reaction to her, ever in control. A control she hadn’t possessed not long ago.

“Go!” Quinn shouted. “If we all group together we’re one giant target!”

All at once, as though everyone had just realized the truth behind the loosed arrow, they did as she said. Lazarus urged Bastian to follow after her as she kicked the sides of her horse and sent the creature rearing back and then forward.

“Lazarus!” Draeven called after him.

Lazarus turned his head, replying to the man’s unspoken question. “Span out,” he called back. “This is the only way to Tritol and turning back isn’t an option.” Lazarus’ eyes met Dominicus’ and the weapons master nodded. He would protect Lorraine with his life. They could not lose a good potions expert and healer.

“Quinn!” Lazarus’ horse lurched as he converged on her. “Follow—”

“We have to break through them,” she interrupted, her eyes focused. “It’s the only way.” Already the tendrils of fear began to seep from her skin, forming around her like snakes coiled to strike, ready and willing to protect their master. Like the basilisk.

Another arrow released and Lazarus and Quinn both swerved to avoid the oncoming bolt. Quinn growled low in her throat, the sound violent and angry. And just as the new day was lit aflame by the rising sun, it was blinked out of existence. One moment the skies were pinkening into the morning blue, and the next a vast ocean of black sky spread, descending over them, blocking out all light except what was left to visualize the enemies at their front.

As the sun rose, the darkness fell once more, conjuring a premonition of the imminent oblivion approaching their enemies.

Blood in the Dirt

“And once the flames of ascension consume you, you will be reborn anew.”

— Quinn Darkova, vassal of House Fierté, fear twister, Master of Neiss

Quinn called to the fear inside, letting it out to slip over her flesh. It tingled along her nerve endings. She was almost sure of it now—after her conversation with Draeven and the things she’d done after that. Her control over the fear was near perfect. In fact, the tendrils no longer felt separated from her at all—as though they were a