Page 104 of The Twisted Throne

As she reached the gates, one of the soldiers standing guard said, “You should head indoors, my lady. This storm will bring heavy rain and worse, mark my words.”

She could smell the rain. Smell the charge of lightning and violence the way she did in a typhoon, except somehow different. Somehow worse.

“How long ago did he ride out?” she asked, resting a hand against Dippy’s neck. Her horse was pawing at the ground, sensing the storm and Ahnna’s unease, and she knew it made him want to run.

“Not long, my lady.” The man squinted down the road. “They’ll come back to escape the storm. Winds won’t be too bad here, but over the crest on the Ranges, it could be a much different story.”

Ahnna could have told him that, for she’d seen the blackness of the sky to the east.

“Lady Ahnna!”

She turned her head to see Georgie striding up the road, displeasure written across his face.

“You should send men after them,” she said to the gate guard. “They’ve been gone too long.”

“With respect, my lady, it’s not been more than half a turn of the glass. Those are experienced men.”

Ahnna barely heard his words, her eyes on the riderless horse galloping down the road toward them.

A very dead soldier dangling from one stirrup.

Ahnna dug in her heels, and Dippy exploded down the road at a gallop, shouts of protest following in her wake. But she didn’t care. Not as she passed the incoming horse and saw two arrows jutting out of the soldier’s chest.

They’d come under attack. James had come under attack.

Lying flat to Dippy’s neck, she let the gelding have his head so that she could retrieve one of her knives. It wouldn’t do much in a battle, but it was better than riding into a fight empty-handed.

Within moments, she saw where the conflict had crossed the road, dirt and brush torn apart, and she followed the trail, her chest clenching as she reached a small clearing and saw still forms on the ground.

“James!” she shouted, leaping off Dippy’s back and running to the first figure. A soldier. As was the other. James was nowhere in sight. But the ground was torn up with hoofprints heading east, swiftly joined by more.

East into the storm.

Snatching up the dead soldier’s bow and quiver, she vaulted onto Dippy’s back and took off after them.

They were probably only minutes ahead of her, but so much could happen in that time. All it took was a well-placed arrow between the shoulders, and it was over.

But Ahnna had never been very good at conceding defeat.

The terrain sloped upward through the trees, the ground rough, and Ahnna let Dippy choose his footing. Ahead, she saw a soldier standing next to a lamed horse, the man cursing. Red hair and the distinctive knife in his hand told her he was Amaridian, and nocking an arrow, Ahnna took aim and let it fly.

It sank into his neck, but she was past him before his body hit the ground.

Higher and higher she climbed, and then her horse exploded over the crest of the hill, and before her was wide-open terrain.

The Ranges.

Black clouds obscured the sky, but in the distance, she could see a dozen mounted figures in pursuit of a single familiar form.

Rage overtook her fear, and leaning over her horse’s neck, Ahnna growled, “Catch them.”

As though he knew her will, Dippy’s stride lengthened, and he flew.

Boom!

The rolling thunder of the storm drowned out the sound of his hooves as he tore after the other horses, every part of him wanting to catch them. To pass them, and Ahnna knew that the horse beneath her would win any race she ever set him to.

Wind whipped her hair and tore at her skirts, but Ahnna ignored the storm, eyes all for the men who were trying to shoot James in the back.

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