Reign of Darkness (The Prince's Assassin #2) - Ariana Nash Page 0,90
knot caught in his throat. “Get your man somewhere safe, and I’ll see you soon, friend.”
Yasir nodded, let go, and dug his heels into his horse’s flank, bolting out of the gate and out of sight.
The dark ships spread like shadows through the turquoise waters of Seran’s harbor. Seran would not be an easy target. The soldiering part of him wished he was galloping down there with Yasir. But his battle was elsewhere.
He patted Adamo on the neck. “Now, let’s go get our man.” He angled Adamo toward the gate and kicked the horse into motion, leaving the thundering sounds of attack far behind.
Adamo didn’t waver. They rode through the days and into the nights, stopping only for water. Jungle turned to desert and then back to the wetter, colder climate of the north. There was only one road north suitable for wheeled wagons. The same road Yasir had navigated south along. Eventually, Niko must come upon Alissand’s caravan.
He’d traveled in three days what Yasir and his wagon had traveled in weeks. But not without a cost. Saddle sore to the bone, Niko dismounted Adamo beside a creek and let the horse drink. He took some rice cakes from the pack and tucked himself against the roots of a large tree. Moonlight bathed the burbling creek in milky light. Moths fluttered in the still air. He watched them dance, knowing he couldn’t stop for long, but also that he needed to rest, or he’d be useless when he eventually did catch up with Alissand.
Seran was either lost or saved by now. The city had staved off an elf attack before but only under the Yazdans’ leadership. The elves had successfully managed to weaken the family. The initial attack had been a strategic one, clearing the way for a larger force.
But Niko wasn’t there, and there was more at stake than the southern city. All cities would fall if Vasili wasn’t found soon.
He wondered if Mah would approve of his actions, if Pah had ever known about any of this. He wondered about the lord he’d never known—the man who was his real father—and if that man had ever thought of his bastard son. Did he still? Assuming he and Lady Bucland were still alive. He wondered about a lot of things while resting beneath the tree by the creek, but mostly he wondered how long it would be before Vasili’s resolve broke and he surrendered to the curse in his blood.
Adamo whinnied softly at the creek’s edge, his ears going flat.
Niko stilled and quickly reached for his blade.
An owl hooted somewhere far off. The creek continued its burbling. All was quiet.
Adamo splashed backward through the water. The horse’s nostrils flared, its sights fixed on something behind the tree Niko leaned against. Niko heard it then: deep, heavy breathing.
He slowly pulled his sword closer to his leg, tightening his hold. The blade hadn’t done a damn thing to the creature before, but without any salt, it was the only protection he had.
A huge, hulking mass of wolf-like muscle and shadowy wisps stalked around the tree. Claws glinted beneath the moonlight. It lifted its maw and sniffed at the air. Red eyes focused on Adamo. The horse backed up again, stamping its hooves against slippery pebbles.
Unnoticed in the roots of the tree, Niko held his breath.
He couldn’t fight this creature, and running would surely trigger it to chase.
The beast stalked toward Adamo, so close now that Niko smelled its cool, damp odor, like still air in forgotten places. He exhaled slowly.
The beast swung its head and locked Niko in its glowing glare. Its lip rippled, revealing curved teeth meant for tearing flesh from bone.
Niko stared, falling into the vastness of its gaze, seeing more than shadows, seeing life and intelligence, seeing something deep and dark and hungry. Something not of this world but not rabid.
The beast’s snarl settled. It sniffed at the air, then lowered its head and ventured closer.
Maybe if Niko could bolt and mount Adamo before the creature tore into him, he’d be able to gallop free, but in the dark, through the trees, it was unlikely.
The beast’s gaze slid to where Niko had hold of the sword. Its snarl bubbled at its lips again like it recognized the sword as a threat.
Niko slowly withdrew his hand—the sword was useless anyway—and the beast’s snarling faded. He pulled his hand all the way back, deliberately resting it in sight on his thigh.
Every instinct demanded he flee. The beast would smell fear.