The emptiness, a hollow hole in his heart so wide it threatened to swallow him, lodged in Jon’s chest worse than the day his parents died. He crouched in front of the stone ruins, a zankata freshly painted on the pillar. Pressing his fingers to the damp ochre, he clenched his fist, numb to the anger that should have burned through him.
He couldn’t forgive Jàden for stripping her magic away and tearing his soul to shreds. His family dead, his best friend killed and now a wife that didn’t want him. No matter how far he rode across this world, he’d never be able to outrun the pain.
Dusty and Thomas crouched beside him, but when neither one spoke, he growled at them. “What is it?”
“You ain’t gonna fix nothing by ignoring her, Captain.” Dusty’s sharp green eyes searched the woods for the smallest movement.
“I agree with Dusty.” Thomas ran a whetstone along his blade, something others might consider a threat. But the younger man was meticulous about caring for his weapons. “You two need to finish fighting it out. Or something.”
Jon wanted to punch them both, especially Thomas for the way he muttered that last phrase. Jàden had made her intent clear the moment she’d ripped her magic out of him.
“Not this time. That symbol she’s been looking for, they’re here. We’ll find her lover and let her go.” Jon lit a cigarette and scanned the woods, nothing but foliage and tall trees rising to a thick green canopy.
Whoever had painted the zankatas the last few days were leading them toward the light haze on the nighttime horizon, and it had to be straight into the heart of a city.
Jon returned to his horse and climbed in the saddle. He shouted to his men, “We ride until dark.”
His gaze lingered on Jàden as she searched the sky for the hundredth time that day. It was time to find that lover of hers and punch him so hard the bastard never looked at her again.
Wrangling his horse around, Jon trotted ahead of the others. Shallow reef stretched in all directions, islands and waterways broken up by large, spherical rocks with eroded carvings covered in lichen. Ruins from a civilization long dead.
He kicked his horse ahead, but Dusty and Thomas cut him off, forcing the black to rear up.
“Don’t lie to yourself, Jon.” Thomas rarely used his name, always preferring the deferential Captain. “Jàden belongs with us.”
“She belongs with that lover of hers.” Even his own words stung as she disappeared ahead, Theryn antagonizing her like an irritating sibling. Jon backed his horse up to move around them.
But Thomas grabbed the black’s bridle. “You’re scared of her because she sees you. It was in your eyes the night Mather died.”
“You told us outside Nelórath that her life matters more than yours. It got me thinking—if she ain’t your sister, there’s only one other reason you’d risk your life to protect hers.” Dusty nudged his horse closer. “Jàden saved Theryn’s life. She’s family now. So fix it before you lose what’s really precious.”
As the two men wrangled their horses around and trotted toward the others, Jon dug his heels in and charged past them all, anger and hurt tightening his heart like a vice.
She may have been his wife for a whole season, but with the bond gone, years of loneliness swallowed him whole.
He couldn’t fix this, not without magic of his own. But even if he held the power to bind them again, it didn’t change the fact that she was in love with another man.
Jon followed the road for several days, the heavy rain souring his mood as he kept his anguish wound tight around his heart. He and Jàden barely spoke two words to one another, and he insisted Thomas keep pushing her harder. Maybe he just wanted her to break down in his arms again so he could comfort her, or maybe without him, she’d never be strong enough to face the shadows haunting her footsteps.
As they neared the city lights, the road ascended to a low cliff. White spires peeked through the jungle canopy between two giant mountain precipices. A maze of waterways wound through the landscape, cascading over a series of falls at the edge of a giant river storming toward the harbor. Ships moored below, a few of them with insignias he recognized from the ìdol?n shipping docks, but most were unfamiliar. The only one he cared about, though, was any black sail bearing the Tower and two moons emblem—and there were none.
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“Guardians be damned,” Andrew muttered, nudging his horse alongside. “The city’s as big as ìdol?n.”
Jon lit a cigarette and dropped to the ground. “We should go in now, before it gets dark.”
He didn’t care about sleeping in the mud again, but a city could mean an inn, fresh supplies and maybe some real food for a change. Plus, with Frank’s ships still in the sky, the city could offer a better way to disappear.
Eventually, they’d need to ride inland to get far enough south to find the Ironstar Tower, and civilization might give him a chance to observe the true nature of Dark Isle inhabitants.
“These ain’t our kind of folks, so I want weapons hidden,” Jon said. “Don’t need any of them to think we’re a threat.”
As Jàden stopped her horse beside him, Jon grabbed the stallion’s bridle. Agnar had shed much of his black fur for a clouded gray, though Jon didn’t think he was more than twelve years old. Too young to be turning gray.
“Hood up, cover the lower half of your face,” he told her. “You ride with me.”
“I can ride my own horse, Captain.” She slid to the ground, avoiding eye contact with him despite her stinging tone.
But Jon wanted her near him in case something went wrong. He tugged the reins over the gray’s head and stepped close to her. But instead of her sweet breath on his skin tugging at the ache in his heart, cold emptiness slapped him with the gentle scent of rainfall.
“No arguments. I’m the captain.” The words tasted like bitter ash on his tongue.
Jon unbuckled his larger weapons and wrapped them in a blanket, tying them to her saddle. Only the daggers stayed at his back, hidden beneath his outer tunic.
Growling her contempt, Jàden unbuckled her own daggers.
But he grabbed them out of her hand. Adjusting the leather straps, he wrapped them around her waist like his, one hilt pointed at each hand. “I said weapons hidden, not off.”
“Yes, sir.” She barely kept the poison from her words as he tightened the buckle at her waist, his mouth dangerously close to hers.
He desperately wanted to kiss her and end this stubborn bitterness, but surrounded by his men was not the place to do it.
“Don’t reach for them unless you have to.” Though right now he’d welcome a stab in the back to stifle the pain in his heart. He grabbed her waist and lifted her onto his horse.
“I can only think of one person I’d use them on,” she muttered under her breath.
Jon climbed in the saddle, his jaw so tight his head throbbed. “Ashe, take her horse.”
Gathering the black’s reins in his hand, Jon led them along the cliff as the road widened onto hard-packed dirt. A ship with orange light flew over the city and disappeared into the jungle.
Fuck, the last thing he needed right now was Frank.
Jàden slipped her arms around his waist. She must have seen the ship, and no doubt her fear overrode her anger.
Jon nudged his horse into a trot. They needed to get inside the city crowds before the ship doubled back. Even as angry as he was right now, she mattered more to him than anything else.
They wound along the cliffs and beyond the muddy road to a narrow street. Zankata lined the walls, ruffling their feathers or watching them with sharp eyes. Several blue-feathered zankata flew down, melting together into a single, uniformed figure in the middle of the path, her black tunic emblazoned across the chest with a blue feather.
The guard held up her hand. “You shifter?”
Something about the woman’s rigid demeanor reminded him of Naréa—someone who’d spot a lie in two seconds.
Jàden hunched against Jon, but he stopped far enough away that the guard couldn’t reach him or his horse with a weapon and said, “No, ma’am. Human. My brothers and I were shipwrecked, lost nearly everything. We’d like passage into the city for supplies.”
The birds along the wall were still as statues, turning their heads to size up Jon and his men.
“Where you comin’ from?” The woman walked a circle around him, lifting the blankets on Agnar’s back. She was looking for something, but the truth was they didn’t have more than their clothes and weapons. Even last night’s meager stew had been gone by morning.
“Forbidden Mountains. Them ìdol?n bastards been killin’ families and burning farms.” He really hoped news of the soldiers had already spread this far south. It might help his words have a bit more weight. “We’re just looking for a fresh start.”
“You’d be safer up north.” She stepped next to him, one hand on the dagger hilt at her waist. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised. We get a lot of folks escaping those northern soldiers. Usually the deserters.”
She fixed her gaze on him, the sharpness of her words revealing that she knew he and his men were soldiers. Likely by the branded emblem on their horses. The guard would be well within her rights to have them all jailed and sent back north, but Jon would kill her and every shifter on the wall if they tried.
“Try Riven Mountain Inn near the broken bell tower. Mostly humans there to help get you settled. No hunting within a day’s ride of the city—all meat must be purchased at the markets where it’s one hundred percent animal.” She pointed toward a section of the city where two smaller rivers merged into one.
But his stomach was already growling at the thought of hot meat.
“City gates close at sundown. Welcome to Felaren.” Her body exploded in a burst of feathers, a dozen zankata returning to perch on the wall’s apex.
“Thank you.” Jon nudged his horse forward, but the hairs along the back of his neck rose as half a dozen people crouched in the trees, barely visible except for the bows on their backs.
Those same folks had been following them since the sahiranath and could even be the ones who’d painted the zankata symbol for Jàden. Maybe they were leading her toward Kale. Or maybe back to another grave like what happened in the north.