Page 116 of Faeling
That tempting thought saw him through that long afternoon. He and Ravenna did as Eydis wanted, standing prettily for others to admire, accepting their well-wishes, and listening to their suggestions and concerns. It was one of the more grueling activities a chieftain or king could do, not unlike running a political gauntlet, but with his lovely mate beside him, it wasn’t so bad.
It was when the crowd of denizens had begun to thin that Vallek started trying to catch Eydis’s eye. Ravenna carried herself bravely, but she was flagging. It was time for a late luncheon and to get her out of the afternoon sun.
He’d just begun to lead her through the pockets of kin, allcarrying complimentary goblets of wine or mead, when Mattias wove his way through the crowd to intercept them.
Bowing, he said quietly, “My king, my queen, there is something that needs your attention.”
Vallek exchanged looks with Ravenna. His serious captain wouldn’t draw them away from such an important function for nothing, and so they followed him from the throngs into a quieter corner of the courtyard. It was at least shadier here, the coolness a welcome relief.
Waiting for them were a handful of warriors, dusty and sweaty from the road. Vallek recognized the style of gorget hanging round their necks, identifying them as soldiers who patrolled the borders. It was a fairly new practice, each contingent leaving a fortnight after the other so that aid was never far behind if needed. When a contingent returned, they rested for a fortnight before heading out again.
These warriors looked fresh from the road, their faces lined in grime and concern. The three of them, all with the rank of captain, bowed to him and Ravenna.
“My king,” said one, “and queen,” he added quickly, “we found these on a group of Pyrrossi soldiers on the southern border.”
Dread gripped Vallek’s innards in a cold fist, and before another warrior tipped a burlap sack upside down, he knew what would spill forth.
A half-dozen sets of manacles clattered to the cobblestones.
Ravenna’s nails dug into his forearm, and he heard her sharp inhale.
With everything that had happened since, the manacles that Fulk Stone-Skin had handed over had escaped Vallek’s attention. He’d known investigations would need to be carriedout, but with even more of these strange manacles staring up at him now, that became a priority.
Just as the ones in the Stone-Skin camp had, these manacles gleamed dully in the late-afternoon light. At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about them. Still, the longer he looked, an eerie sense of menace emanated from the metal—yet, he had the strange desire to touch them.
Before he could stop her, Ravenna knelt to do just that. She touched the chain of one with her fingertips, and her body immediately shuddered and her eyes went blank.
Vallek lifted her back up by the elbow, drawing her protectively into his side. He watched with worry as she remained dazed.A vision.
The warriors shifted from foot to foot nervously, glancing between him and Ravenna.
It was long moments before she came back to him, longer than he’d ever witnessed her visions taking. He ran his hand up and down her back, soothing himself as much as her.
Ravenna’s look was troubled when she finally came back to him, creases underscoring her eyes.
“They’re definitely spelled,” she confirmed.
Fuck.
26
—arms spread wide—manacles at either wrist—a citadel gone to ruins—apple blossom petals crushed underfoot—blood spilled down Vallek’s chest—
Ravenna’s skin was cold and clammy when she came back to herself in the middle of the corridor.
Damn. It was the third time in as many days that she’d had that same vision. Ever since touching those strange manacles, the same series of images had assailed her.
“My queen?” One of her six personal guardsmen stepped forward, his concern pulling the corners of his mouth down past his tusks.
It was still so strange having six hulking warriors shadow her every move outside of the quarters she shared with Vallek. It was hard to overcome the sense that she was being followed—because she was. Her father had taught her to be wary, to constantly check over her shoulder. For their size, her guards were all light-footed and discreet, yet old habits clung to hernearly as well as the orcs did.
These visions—or, more accurately, thisonevision, over and over—had rattled her.
She couldn’t get the image of Vallek in chains, beaten and bloodied, out of her mind. It unnerved her so much, she hadn’t admitted to him what she’d seen, for fear that saying it aloud would make it all the more possible.
Her visions always came true, one way or another. She knew that. But Ravenna refused to accept this one.
Mouth gone dry, she had to wet her lips to reply, “I’m all right. Just a vision.” She attempted to smile, to alleviate their concern, but this only seemed to alarm them more.
