A Queen of Gilded Horns (A River of Royal Blood #2) - Amanda Joy Page 0,81

of the Deadened Forest that had terrified her as a child.

Waking up in the circle of rock outcrops felt a bit like finding herself in the belly of a mountain. It took Isa a long moment to recall exactly where she was and why. In the dark, walls of stone seemed to close in on her, but she stared up at the stars until her memory settled. They were fleeing again, which seemed to be Eva’s solution for everything.

Isa climbed out of her bedroll and spied Kelis, snoring and half slumped against wall of jagged rock, a sheathed dagger clasped loosely in one hand.

Using her magick to keep the bloodkin woman from stirring, Isa tucked the knife into her belt just in case. Eva might’ve removed those wretched shackles, but she had not armed her. Everyone else in their party was armed to the teeth and the distinction served as a reminder: Isa, still a prisoner.

Intending to relieve herself, she went still when she heard laughter coming from outside, and crawled to the widest seam in the rock outcrop.

She didn’t dare look out. It would’ve been foolish to consider anything but the obvious—the Second General had caught up to them during the night.

She waited until eventually two voices sounded again, one sedate and masculine and the other melodic and feminine with a southerner’s lilt to her accent.

“Do you know . . . smoke them out? If we . . . the Queen will have our heads,” the higher voice said.

“Hush, Sala,” the other replied. “. . . this doesn’t wake them, a small tremor will do.”

A sound like grinding stone reached Isa’s ears. She clutched the wall of stone as the ground slid beneath her feet.

She stepped out of the rock outcrop and slipped, tumbling forward in the sand. Her heart thumped in her chest. Shit.

This was her chance and she was already spoiling it. If that little trick of turning the hard ground to sand didn’t wake everyone, she could use her magick to persuade Mateen to take her away from here, and leave the rest of them alone. If she couldn’t persuade the General to leave Eva behind, well . . . How could Isa be blamed for that? What else could she be expected to do? Remain a prisoner and accept Eva’s truce?

What happened when Eva changed her mind? Even Aketo would turn on her eventually. She stood in the way of their freedom—their history—and Isa didn’t blame them for choosing Eva. But she still had to choose herself.

She managed to keep her footing and took in the sight before her. Spheres of magickal light bobbed in the air, illuminating the clearing where a good thirty men fanned out behind the one Isa assumed was Mateen and his companion. All but those two wore their masks. She’d been nursing the small hope to find the Captain of her guard among Mateen’s battalion, but there was no sign of anyone but these Jackals.

She sensed the net of each of their minds. Isa’s magick sense was something between seeing and feeling. She saw the will of every person she encountered. There was a certain vibration in the air around everyone’s head—her Sorceryn tutors called it an aura—and when she conjured her magick, touching one of the many symbols on her arms, her mind could reach out and grasp those nets. It would only require a featherlight touch to supplant one of these soldiers’ will with her own.

But ensnaring thirty minds, not including the man and the young woman standing less than twenty feet away, wouldn’t be an easy matter. These men were all skilled and Gods only knew what magick they possessed.

The young woman that Isa had heard speak stood behind a kneeling man. Her skin was a flawless golden brown and her dark hair was done up in hundreds of narrow braids cascading over her shoulders. Isa noted the bandolier of throwing knives slung over one shoulder and the bow strapped to her back.

The man did not look up when Isa approached. His shirtsleeves were folded back, displaying tattoos of rock formations and gems rendered so vividly on his dark skin that they seemed to glitter in the moonlight. His iron will was like barbed prongs around his aura. This was a mind that did not like to be changed. It wouldn’t be a problem for Isa, though. Many at Court were much the same. She’d learned to make her mind sharp as an arrow and deft as