Diato had told her that the young wizard had dreamed of the blacksmith and his taking on the journey two days prior. A wizard’s dream could well be marked in stone as truth.
“How will I know him?”
Thestian had smiled softly. “He is a big fellow, strong in shoulders and hands. He keeps a short, dark beard that he peeks out over with gentle brown eyes. He is not a mean spirited man, more gentle than most with a heart that reaches out to those he can help. He carries the sword protectively at his side.” Fiona locked away the mental picture he’d drawn for her.
She’d been surprised when she met the wizard named to be king. He’d been young and with a kind face and wise eyes. He’d shown her more respect than most of the Kings of the past, spoken to her as he would one of his own guards. It had filled her with hope that he might bring about a shift in how changelings were viewed.
“You practice alone.” As if summoned by her thoughts, Thestian was suddenly there, at her side, causing her to start. It surprised her that she’d not sensed him before he approached. She let the hand holding the sword fall to her side as she knelt respectively.
Thestian waved her back to her feet, the movement causing his white robe to ripple impressively around him. “I could have Diato give you a challenge.” The young wizard flicked his wrist and Diato instantly stepped forward from the shadows causing Fiona’s jaw to tighten.
“I need no challenge, sir.” Fiona glared at Diato who smiled smugly back at her.
“But it would please me to see exactly who is responsible for bringing me my sword,” Thestian insisted in a soft voice. “I’ve heard you are one of the best of the Serpentines. I’d like to see if that rumor holds truth.”
Fiona’s frown deepened but she inclined her head. She didn’t dare go against the wishes of the wizard who was to be king. Diato moved forward.
“This was your suggestion?” She didn’t bother lowering her voice or hiding her irritation when Diato placed himself across from her. His sword slid loudly through the air as he unsheathed it. But he was a guard, Fiona told herself nearly smiling, and not a warrior. He had to know that he was at her mercy the moment the wizard had motioned for him to practice with her.
“It was not.” Diato shook his head as the wizard backed out of the way. “This does not please you? This chance at swinging that sword of yours at my head? I could feel your hatred for me, Fiona. I am hurt by it.”
“Save your feigned pain for women who have yet to know how you function, Diato. And if I wanted to cut off your head, I would have done it six months ago when I found you rutting about with Saline like the mammal you are.” She knew it injured his pride for her to mention his habit in front of the wizard and she smiled with the shift of power that her words claimed. She channeled all of her pain and resentment into the words the followed.
“Perhaps it is she you should be challenging, Diato. As I have heard, she gave you a bit of run that night anyway.” She cut her eyes to Thestian to find him looking back and forth between her and Diato as they spoke.
“Bite me,” Diato growled, obviously irritated with her words. A dark stain crept over her body. Ink black with an adder’s zigzag pattern of a gold and yellow along her back, arms and legs. Her eyes glittered as they narrowed to yellow slits and her long locks transformed into tiny silver scales that made shiny circles around her eyes and features.
Thestian’s breath sucked in sharply as Fiona’s forked tongue flicked from between her full red lips, tasting the scent of fear in the air. “Bite you?” She drew in a long, slow breath, then let it out just as slowly. “With pleasure.”
Then the beautiful but deadly creature leapt forward.
Three
When Keegan urged his horse to halt, Ronan frowned deeply. Over the past seven days, he’d learned well enough that Keegan Yore would never stop until called to from one of the others. That part of the horseman’s pride had often angered Ronan because he knew that Keegan was doing it just to prove his point of Ronan’s leadership over the other two. He’d proven his words as truth and it forced Ronan to speak for Ula and Arien when they needed to relieve themselves or rest. Now, Keegan’s broad shoulders stiffened before he turned to look back at them. His eyes met Ronan’s and dread knotted in the blacksmith’s stomach. Something was wrong.
“Culley,” Keegan called.
“
Ronan smiled at Arien’s effort. He brought Sorcha along side Keegan’s horse, searching the road for anything that might have been the cause of the horseman’s unpredictable stop. But the road was clear. Keegan’s expression was not, however. Instead it held a look of concern.
“What is it?” Ronan asked with confusion. His eyes darted to Keegan. Ula’s previous warning found his thoughts quickly and Ronan stiffened.
Ronan had considered who might not be who they presented themselves to be while he rode during the day. Now the horseman was behaving suspiciously. Did he mean to take the sword himself?
“In the trees to the left…no, don’t look directly. We are being followed.” Keegan kept his voice low and indicated toward the road ahead of them as if discussing something about the journey ahead. Had he lost his mind?
Ronan frowned as he looked up at the sky and then let his eyes sweep the trees on both sides of the road. Only a glance, but since he was looking for something, he saw them. Shadowed by the trees and brush but they were there. Riders.
Guilt tore through Ronan. He’d suspected Keegan but could see now the man only meant to warn him of what was going on around them. Ula was the one with no senses and he’d allowed her madness to taint his judgment of the man who guided them.
Keegan added, “I do not trust those that would hide from view.”
Ronan nodded, remembering the cautious way Keegan had watched the changeling, Mikel the Hort, two nights before. But Mikel had meant no harm. He had just been so used to hiding after he’d stolen something that it had become second nature.
“How long have you noticed them?” Ronan asked.
“Since the day after we fed the changeling.” Keegan shrugged when Ronan stared at him. “They didn’t move closer until this morning.” Perhaps the witch had been right after all. Mikel the Hort might not have been as innocent as Ronan had thought him to be. Maybe he had been some kind of spy.
“How many are there?” Ronan felt like an idiot but indicated toward the road with his hand anyway, following Keegan’s example. He would trust him from now on.
Keegan looked out at the road again, nodding this time. “My guess would be about six or seven. But it’s not the number that bothers me.” He met Ronan’s gaze. “They are Centaurs.” A chill raced up Ronan’s spine. He’d only heard of such half beasts and hadn’t even been sure they were real.
They were dangerous beings that were half horse-half man, most of which were said to belong to the Rahawk, a rebel group who opposed having a wizard king. But why were they here and following them? Realization suddenly washed over Ronan and Keegan nodded, apparently aware of what had found the blacksmith’s thoughts. The King’s Sword.
Ronan glanced at Arien’s horse. “Ahearn hasn’t seemed nervous. Surely if there was danger he would sense it first as he did before.” He grasped desperately for hope but Keegan took it away with a shake of his head.
“I told you the horses were intelligent. They would, just as we are, attempt to keep the centaurs from realizing we knew that they were there.” Keegan made a few gestures with his hands. “I have trained them well. True, they let us know of danger but they also understand our command and would not forsake us.” Ronan looked back to find that Ahearn was looking directly at him, almost as if to confirm the horseman’s words. Ronan sighed heavily.
“Do we get to stop a bit earlier today?” Ula asked eagerly. Ronan’s gaze drifted from the horse to the boy and the healer. They relied on him and Keegan to keep them safe. The fear that had began to gnaw at Ronan suddenly turned to anger. He flexed his fingers slightly and took a calming breath. No need to act irrationally and
