Page 3 of Winds of Destiny

“No! Listen!” He lifts the tiny flute to his mouth and blows.

And no sound comes out.

I roll my eyes as I strap on my dark gray breastplate. Whelver shell is almost impossible to penetrate and relatively light, which makes it ideal armor for Zephyth’s troops. It’s not pretty, like Kamor’s bright, bronze-armored chariots, but it does what I need it to—keep me alive so I can watch over Cam. He’s everything to me—including ridiculously frustrating at times like this. “You made a broken flute. Fantastic. So you’re going toblowat them until they surrender.”

“No, it’s for the whelvers!”

I strap on my greaves and grab my quiver, then my helm. The helm is the only place the armorers attempt a bit of creativity. The nosepiece curls down low, all the way to my chin, mimicking the long face of Zephyth’s patron sea serpent god, Ophiucas. From the forehead down the back of the helm are two spiraling horns, inlaid with sparkling mother-of-pearl. Fighters learn early on how to capture the sunlight with those horns, blinding their opponents in close combat.

It makes hiding from the enemy difficult at times, but few warriors in Zephyth have ever fought more than a hundred yards from the city itself. Since the everwinds died, those of us who roam the continent are rare. And we prefer stealth.

My damn prince would be one of them in a heartbeat if he was allowed, though.

“You want to wake up comatose whelvers who only become conscious every half year for feedings with a broken flute,” I say, completely deadpan. “Brilliant plan.”

Not.

I grab my blade, bow, and quiver, then glance out the window. The gate guards are streaming out from the city to help Doric’s caravan, but they’re all on foot. They’ll be even more vulnerable to those fast-moving chariots than Doric. “I need to go.”

Cam steps in front of me. “I’m coming with you.”

“No!” I glare at Cam as my anger spikes. How dare he be so cavalier about his own safety? “You’re staying here.”

The fiercest of our warriors shrink when I look at them like this. My own mentor watches what he says when I get in this mood. But Cam? He just looks amused. “I’m coming with you,” he repeats.

“PrinceCamrael, I—”

“Ooh, you’re using my title. You’re really irritated,” Cam teases, then his expression goes serious. “I think I can help save lives. I promise to stay well away from any fighting.”

Oh damn it, he’sdetermined.I know that if I persist in saying no, he’ll just go on his own unless I tie him up here. It’s tempting—but there’s no time.

“Come on.” I grab him by the hand and tow him along after me as I race out of his suite and down the stairs. He stays by my side despite my speed, and warmth gathers in my chest at the evidence that he’s kept up with his training in my absence.

Good. He’ll need every ounce of skill he possesses to survive the scolding his father is going to give both of us after this stunt.

There are many benefits to being a royal in Zephyth, and one of them is the collection of private passages meant just for the Rabann family and their trusted servants. I know them all like the back of my hand, and I get Cam and myself down to the stables before any of the regular city militia makes it to the fight.

Doric’s horn is still blowing—he needs help. At least hearing him like this means he’s alive, but for how long? He’s my mentor, my guide, the man who saved me from starvation. He gave me a home and a purpose. Ihaveto save him.

I pull Cam toward the nearest jaka bird, one of only three in the entire city, and leap up onto her back before pulling him up behind me. Luckily, Lulu—Cam’s adorable name for his vicious mount—is saddled for a training ride. She shies and menaces us with her massive beak, but a brief tug on her white crest settles her fast. These two-legged beasts are as rare as they are expensive, and only the Rabann family is allowed to own them. I’ve gotten plenty of practice on Lulu, though, and right now I need her speed.

Cam laughs with delight as we go from still to racing forward in under a second. Once we’re out of the stable, Lulu takes off at a run for the nearest gate. The guard minding it startles and barely manages to haul open the massive door before we’re charging through.

From outside the walls, the conflict is clear. Only a few hundred feet away, a small party of travelers is surrounded by quick-moving Kamoran chariots, eight that I can see. Although their city insignia is obscured and the men within them appear shaggy and wild, the chariots are being towed by lions. There’s only one place to get lions like that—Antasa, the city King Embros recently conquered.

“I don’t think those are bandits,” Cam says, noticing the same thing.

Not even close.

The only reason the defenders haven’t been overrun is that they’ve turned the wagons they were riding in on their sides and have taken cover behind them. Some of our gate guards have joined them, but far too many others lie bleeding on the ground between here and the fight. I can’t tell who is dead or alive.

I have to go.Now.

I turn Lulu toward the nearest small, rocky, gray hill just beyond the city walls. It’s one of over a hundred such hills, laid out in rows like a monument. But they aren’t hills; they’re Zephyth’s massive herd of whelvers, enormous, shelled creatures capable of moving without being blown away while the everwinds were with us. For the past twenty years, they’ve existed in a state of torpor, rousing every half a year to eat the food we lay out to keep them alive, then returning to their slumber.

And Cam thinks he can wake them and…what, make them attack the chariots that dart about the plains ahead of us?

Before I can ask, he jumps from Lulu onto the nearest whelver. My heart wrenches as he goes, even though I know this is safer for him. Let him try his tricks here, away from the battle. I doubt the “bandits” will even notice him, as this is well away from the targets they’re fighting for.

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