knife to the girl's throat. The Adorian noticed it right away and rode closer. Garren turned toward him and pressed the knife barely into the girl's flesh. She cried out in pain, which only provoked the Adorian even more.
'Let her go and I will lay down my arms.'
Garren laughed. 'Do you take me for a fool? Tell me, being not of this realm, what significance does this girl's life have for you?'
The Adorian threw down his sword and rode with his hands held above his head in surrender. 'It's of no consequence to you what this girl means to me. I offer my life for hers — more than a fair trade. I'll go without resistance, I give you my word.'
'Your words are meaningless, but you may have confidence in mine. Your interference in Ruiari has cost this girl any pity I might have had for her. Perhaps this will teach you to leave matters alone that don't concern you.' Garren lowered his knife and drove it into the girl's side. He watched as the expression on the Adorian's face grew cold. The Adorian tried to force Garren from his saddle by charging his horse into the Dragee. The Dragee easily resisted the charge by craning his long neck, grabbing hold of the Adorian's horse with its wicked jaws and tossing it to the ground. The Adorian landed in a pile of broken bones and armor. Dazed, he cried out in Adorian and crawled toward the girl. Garren rode on, turning around to see the Adorian cradle the girl's lifeless body in his arms.
Garren was still deep in thought when he came to a clearing. He turned right to go around it. He hadn't realized how long he'd been riding. The sun had set and he was miles from where he had entered the woods. The moon shone brightly in the sky, casting a blue glow on everything in the forest. He hadn't gone too far when the Dragee began to resist his lead. Garren pulled the beast's head toward him with the reins and saw clear agitation. The wind blew through the trees, creating a hollow moan that echoed through the darkness. He stayed frozen, his hand resting on his sword, and within minutes he heard what the finely tuned ears of his Dragee had perceived. The earth shook with the rumbling of hooves. He jumped to the ground, pulling his sword from its scabbard. Searching his surroundings, he was shocked to find nothing. He peered into the woods but detected no movement save the slight sway of the trees against the breeze. He remained still, all of his senses fixed on discerning the source. As the sound grew closer, he leaned into his Dragee and whispered a command, 'Tradekh ealo.' The Dragee lay on the ground and rolled onto its side. Garren crouched, laying one leg over the beast, across the saddle.
Suddenly, from the middle of the field, a group of ten Adorian riders emerged. Garren stared wordless as the men materialized out of thin air. They tore through the clearing and into the dense woods on the other side. After seeing what he assumed was the last of them come into view, he tugged at the reins. The Dragee rose to its feet and Garren slid back into his saddle.
As he raced through the woods, his eyes flared momentarily violet as he cloaked himself and the Dragee in a spell of silence. He wove through the trees until he was parallel with the closest rider and ran him through with his blade. The Dragee dipped its head and dug its teeth into the horse's leg, pulling it to the ground.
He pulled his second sword from its sheath as he ran between two more riders. Deftly brandishing the blades, he slew both men with one fluid cross-swing. Their severed bodies fell from their horses. The Dragee recoiled then gathered momentum and leapt in front of the horses, tearing at the throat of one with its claws and sinking its teeth into the chest of the other.
The sounds of the slaughter alerted the others, who turned in their tracks. Garren slowed as he came upon them, blood still dripping from his weapons. He glared at the seven remaining riders, his Dragee emitting a guttural growl. One of the riders who had been farthest from Garren moved in front of the others to face him. Garren recognized him as Caedmon. These weren't just Adorian riders — these were Michael's men.
Caedmon aggressively extended his wings, casting a shadow in the moonlight. Garren slid his swords back into their sheaths as Caedmon's horse grew restless, stirring beneath him.
Garren sighed and draped one hand over the other. 'You are indebted to me; I've just relieved you of three of your most pitiable fighters.'
Caedmon pulled on the reins to settle his horse, then held up a hand to his men. 'Louthairo toul eralaun doe aronai.' All but one of the men seemed to agree with his command.
'An tiroknow toul eralaun, nigh allolost,' the second Adorian yelled. Caedmon looked at him, but before he could respond, the soldier rushed forward, unsheathing his sword as he came at Garren.
'Perhaps you would be so kind as to deliver a message for me,' Garren said, narrowing his eyes.
Without warning or any action on Garren's part, deep slashes cut across the charging Adorian's face. Crying out in pain, his hands flew to cover his bleeding skin, dropping the reins.
The other men were still as blood poured down the Adorian's face. Unable to see and shuddering in anguish, he slipped from the saddle.
'Please inform Michael that I grow weary of his ineptitude and that if he intends to continue this game, he might consider not insulting me further by sending such infantile efforts.'
Garren did not wait to hear a reply as he headed for Eidolon.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It felt like a lifetime had passed since Palingard's fall. Ariana was fairly sure it had been mere days, but it could've been weeks for all her tired bones knew.
She stayed mostly in her chambers, resting and healing from both her twisted ankle and wounded side. Michael checked on her frequently, joyful one moment and grievously brusque the next. As if his silence concerning all things of value to her — namely Adoria's intentions for Middengard — weren't enough, his tremulous moods aggravated her almost beyond bearing.
Also irritating was the adolescent chambermaid who gushed incessantly about one young Adorian or another. How quickly Ariana had forgotten what it was like to be so young and how grateful she was to be beyond it.
Avoiding Kaitlyn wasn't easy — the girl took notice of just about anything Ariana did or said, remembering it with startling and annoying accuracy. As soon as the girl was otherwise engaged, Ariana made her way in cloaked anonymity to the outer hall. Wandering the corridors, she took the path she recalled having walked with Jenner, finally coming to the pavilion where she'd found Duncan.
Her father's dearest friend had asked to see her on more than one occasion and she'd found herself, for once, pleased to have someone to turn guests away at her whim.
How could he? After everything, all of his stupid empty promises, the time he spent teaching me skills that he obviously learned here.
Ariana laughed indignantly, more than a little mystified at her father's disdain for what he had told her were crutches for those unwilling to fight for their own dying world. Not only was Gabriel wrong, he was a hypocrite. Perhaps he was ashamed of her, wanting nothing of her brash, untempered gracelessness to stain his revered homeland.
She shook her head, anger welling in her gut, and walked into the open. The wind hit her face, threatening to push back her hood, so she held it close with one hand. She had begun to hate the cold but felt trapped whenever she was inside for very long.
As her brother already suspected, rumors concerning the arrival of Gabriel's daughter had quickly spread through Cyphrus. If she didn't know better, she'd think Michael was King and not a powerless figurehead as he claimed.
She came finally to the markets, which, unlike in Palingard, were located on long cobblestone alleys to shield them from the fierce winter. Blazing fires lit the middle of the street to warm shoppers.
She took a deep breath, enjoying the sound of life and the smells of breads and fragrant fruits that she would venture to guess did not grow in Middengard. Michael had given her a handful of gold tokens soon after she had arrived, and she had spent only a few, treasuring what was left despite Michael's promise of providing whatever she needed.
He simply couldn't understand. They came from different worlds. She knew nothing, save what very little Sara had shared, of court life. She didn't know how to be anything other than the boisterous child of Palingard that she
