Page 22 of Frost Like Night
Jesse looked back at Mather as he fastened the quiver to his back. “Yakim is an ally of Summer. In trade, at least—perhaps they heard of the takeover and sought to intercede.”
“But intercede for which side?”
Jesse’s fingers hung loose around the bow. The hope in his eyes guttered with doubt. “The river. Yakim is a short boat ride from here, and there’s one dock reserved specifically for the queen’s use. They’re there.” He paused. “They have to be.”
“All right.” Mather didn’t need further explanation. This was Jesse’s mission, and the sooner they completed it, the sooner Mather could listen to the tension in his muscles that compelled him to get to Paisly.
But Jesse blew out a steady breath. “No. You’ve done enough. Your queen needs you.”
Though he felt a rush of relief at that release of duty, Mather didn’t move. “Are you sure?”
Jesse nodded. “Yes. I’ll see you at the camp.” He flashed a smile. “Thank you.”
He sprinted toward the southern wall of trees, vanishing into the shadows. Mather watched him go, waiting for shouts of alarm from any soldiers who might havebeen waiting, but none came.
He turned to Phil. “Now we—”
Every muscle in Mather’s body sprang to readiness and he lifted Meira’s chakram.
Phil, body rigid, stood with a blade making a threatening indentation across his neck. The hand that gripped the blade belonged to Theron.
All sensation drained out of Mather as soldiers rushed around them, filing out of the servants’ entrance. But he didn’t really see any of them, too consumed by the malice radiating from the new Cordellan king.
For once, Mather was grateful that Meira was far away from all of this.
The soldiers formed a ring, closing him alongside the wagon while more men worked to free their comrades imprisoned within. And when something moved on Mather’s right, realization rushed back to him, letting him feel every stupid thing he’d done.
They’d been caught. They were surrounded. And it wouldn’t be the dungeon for them this time, not with the madness in Theron’s eyes—and especially not with the cloying smile Angra threw at him.
Angra stopped, studying Mather first, then Phil. Theron kept the blade to Phil’s throat as if there was still a chance Mather might fight back, but they all knew who had won.
“Just the two of you?” Angra noted, one brow lifting.
Mather ground his jaw and lowered Meira’s chakram. “You expected more?”
Angra’s other brow lifted to match the first. He shook his head and a spark lit the air. As soldiers moved forward, Mather realized what it was.
Angra’s magic. He’d sent a command to his men much as normal Royal Conduits sent commands to soldiers during battle—but Mather could feel this too. He imagined it snaking around each person in the area, diving into those who had already given themselves over to Angra—and coiling across Mather’s skin when the magic recognized someone it had not yet possessed.
It slithered over his body, sending up images of power, strength, and unbreakable resolve. The magic whispered to him, a soft caress he fought to scrub off—fought more the urge to soak it in. If this was how Angra swayed people to his side, Mather almost couldn’t blame them for surrendering.
Two of Angra’s soldiers grabbed Mather and kicked him to his knees while the other two rid him of weapons. Meira’s chakram—damn it, damn it—the Ventrallan knife, and—
“Now this is a surprise.” Angra took Cordell’s conduit from the soldier who found it. He glanced at Theron. “Yours, I believe.”
Theron released Phil, shoving him to the ground. He took the conduit from Angra, the purple jewel on the hilt hazy in his palm. Mather, still held like a man bowing tohis king, twitched in defiance when Theron bent to his level.
“I think this will be far more useful in your hands. I no longer have need of it.” Theron pressed the tip of the blade to Mather’s cheek, though not forcefully enough to break skin.
Mather jerked again, but the soldiers kept him pinned. Theron’s threat didn’t make sense—he’d let Mather keep the conduit, thedagger?
Theron twisted the blade. Blood trickled in a warm bead down Mather’s face, and he imagined it draining the hatred out of him, releasing it to pool at Theron’s feet.
A smile, and Theron pulled the blade away to lean still closer, angling his mouth to Mather’s ear.
“And every time you see it, I want you to think of her with me. I want you to know that when I win this war, I will do sowithoutthis weak magic. And when this ends, and Meira is mine, there won’t have been a damn thing you could have done to stop me.”
Mather snapped his head into Theron’s temple. The Cordellan king bellowed, but when he regained himself, he made to lunge again, the conduit’s blade raised high.
