Palace of Silver (The Nissera Chronicles #3) - Hannah West Page 0,133

wore his weapons as naturally as Glisette wore flowing dresses—like he had been born wearing them.

In front of the broken edifice steps, Navara mounted a bay courser the commander had brought from camp. She looked like a little girl, straddled across the twitching muscles of the warhorse’s broad back.

But when she drew her sword to speak to the anxious, sweating warriors, she seemed to fill out, to grow taller, stronger, and less afraid.

The elicromancers were satisfied to stay in the shadows and let her give off her own light, brighter than any elicrin stone in the eyes of her people. The army seemed wary of us anyway—especially of Glisette, who looked too much like Ambrosine.

“An impostor sits on our throne,” Navara said. “I refuse to let my great kingdom fall at the feet of a liar and snake. The people of Perispos will rise up and reclaim what belongs to us.”

This earned a cheer from the soldiers. She punched her sword in the air, feeding on their enthusiasm. As she led the horse back and forth in a jaunty, proud parade of one, the wet wind raked back her short hair, showcasing her lovely features and the fire in her deep brown eyes. I could see her arm trembling with the weight of the sword, but I doubted her admirers cared a bit.

“The people of Perispos are strong,” she went on. “We are warriors at heart—sons and daughters of Atrelius. We may be mortals, but we will long outlive the queen’s tyranny.”

The responding cheers and hollers were so loud I felt them vibrating in my chest.

“She’s good at this,” I said to Glisette.

“She is,” she agreed.

When Navara finished, we wished good luck to her, Mercer, and Devorian, who were going off with the decoy army. Glisette clung to her brother for a long time, long enough that we had to run to catch up with the rest of the soldiers following Commander Larsio to the ambush site.

Many of our fellow ambushers carried short spears that could be easily thrown from treetops or bushes, while others, like me, carried bows and quivers. Glisette carried a sword. But armed with her elicrin stone, she probably wouldn’t need it. I remembered the wall of ice she had created to break down the bridge at Darmeska, and the fluttering fear in my belly stilled for a moment.

We moved stealthily, hiking for an hour through mist-shrouded forest hills before we had to navigate around the traps at the ambush site. The high-branching beech trees with smooth gray bark had been stripped of some of their leaves in Glisette’s first storm, but the silver firs crowding around them offered enough cover for us. I tried to toss my rope around a strong limb and succeeded on the fourth try. I bit off my gloves so I could tie a secure friction knot like Sev had shown me, then looped the rope into a makeshift harness and hoisted myself high, mounting a strong branch. Grateful for the strength in my healed ankle, I reeled in the rope and tucked it into my pack.

A few dozen other soldiers did the same, while many others took their places in the low brush. I saw Sev claim the tree next to me and watched Tilmorn cross to the other side of the road.

Glisette approached the edge of the forest. I looked out from the green boughs to the rolling hills and found the outline of Halithenica, a tiny shadow at the horizon.

Even this far away, I could distinguish a mass of warriors marching down the road.

My heart sank to my bowels, and my grip on the sturdy branch weakened. I had survived one battle, but what if that was thanks to sheer luck?

Glisette stood next Commander Larsio, waiting.

It seemed an agonizing eternity before the army drew close enough that my eyes could separate one soldier from another.

Most of the army was infantry. A small cavalry pulled up the rear. Their ranks formed a long, thin line that snaked down the road, which was ideal for an ambush; we could engage small numbers of them at a time. Some might even turn back or scatter when they realized they had encountered an attack. We had planned for that.

I had told the altar girl, Damiatta, of our plans, pretending I hadn’t noticed how her eyes sparked with cunning. Thanks to her information, Ambrosine and her commander thought they had no reason to be alarmed. They thought they would beat our army to