A Queen of Gilded Horns (A River of Royal Blood #2) - Amanda Joy Page 0,15

Lands. You won’t survive in Myre long as a rebel Princess. They will call you a traitor, an imposter attempting to steal the throne. Papa is dead. There are no allies for you to gather.

“This country is not good to rebels. You face death here,” she finished softly.

I shrugged. “Well then, my fate hasn’t changed. I’ve run toward death for as long as I’ve lived. With every day that I avoid death, I fear it less and less. And you have grown more afraid.”

I understood now that she’d always been afraid of me, as I feared her. Mother or the Rival Heirdom, I wasn’t sure who to blame for that.

“Of course I’m scared. You have me stuck here. You can kill me anytime.”

“But I won’t. I didn’t bring you with us to hurt you, Isa. I swear it.”

“Well, I don’t trust you.”

“I could have killed you a hundred different times by now. I could drag your body back to Ternain and make Mother choose between crowning me, a khimaer, or starting a war of succession. But I haven’t.”

“Why?”

Her eyes were veiled with distrust, but behind that, there was genuine curiosity. I tried not to let my relief that I’d finally baited Isa into a conversation show. “You remember my nameday?” Isa nodded, lips flat with displeasure. As if it was rude of me to bring up the night she’d tried to kill me. “I meant the Entwining . . . before everything else happened.”

“That night,” I continued, “I thought this was just more power they were taking from us. Robbing us of our ability to choose anything but fratricide. But I was wrong. I can’t believe no other Rival Heirs ever figured it out. The Entwining is a gift. If we choose peace, they can’t make us kill each other, Isa. We don’t have to die. The spell ensures our safety.”

“There are worse things than dying.” Isa’s bright green eyes scanned the horizon until they settled on the rise of rock outcrops hiding our camp. “How many of their throats would Mother have to slit before you decided it was worth killing me, if just to keep them safe? Maybe I’m wrong and you would let them all die. They are soldiers, after all, and death comes with the job. But what happens when she brings in children off the street, poor bloodkin boys and girls, too young to have even had their first taste of blood? Will you let them die for me? I doubt it, Eva.”

“Gods, Isa, must your every decision be driven by fear of Mother?” I snapped.

Isadore seemed to look down her nose at me as she answered, “I make my decisions by not being completely naïve. You’re of age now, Eva; you should try it.”

“You should try to have a little faith that not everything in our lives must be terrible.”

“And why would I do that when all evidence indicates our lives should be miserable?”

Isa fell silent and refused to add anything further. We resumed our slow procession around the camp. That hour parrying imagined blades beneath the sun earlier had done its job of quieting my mind. Our conversation hadn’t been painless, it soothed me somehow.

Though it hadn’t made my planned truce seem any less futile.

* * *

We ate supper by the light of torches hanging from stakes pounded into the earth. The camp was arrayed in a half circle, the lights marking this central meeting place. Behind each stake was a row of tents. Our tents were made from the same nondescript, muddied-brown canvas, but lined with shearling for warmth. Nights were brutally cold on the Plain, even in High Summer.

We’d sold our old tents in Dahn. The last place I’d been able to walk about freely, home to bloodkin and many part khimaer.

In Dahn, I’d divested myself of nearly all my jewels to equip us for the three-week trek across the Plain. Where we would not ride, but walk and run several miles a day to reach Orai. Our only pack animals were two camels who kept pace with us just fine. All I’d kept were the adornments of my title—the Rival Heir diadem, my signet ring, and the ceremonial necklace and headdress worn alongside the diadem—and a few gifts I could not replace. My father’s ring and Baccha’s horn bracelet, now worn stacked atop mine on my left wrist.

I had debated dropping it in the sea once, but when I tried, I could not bear to remove it. Even though all