Page 9 of Frost Like Night
She could do that.
“Halt!”
Ceridwen stiffened, her eyes flicking to the wagon door as the entire structure rolled to a stop. She flung herself at the one narrow crack in the patched-up window, soaking up what information she could before she jerked back in case another stray blade poked through. They weren’t atthe palace yet, but rather still in the city, surrounded by Rintiero’s multicolored buildings, the magentas and olives mostly coated in shadow now.
Lekan frowned at Ceridwen. Why had they stopped?
They both stayed silent. Ceridwen shifted into a crouch, the quilt-braid taut between both of her wrists.
A horse whinnied. “We wish to purchase the contents of this wagon,” a voice said, and Ceridwen strained to place it. Not someone she knew, and not one of the soldiers guarding them.
A man laughed. “Forget it—we have our orders.”
“Orders, yes. But do you have gold?”
Coins jingled.Lotsof coins, from what Ceridwen could tell. Someone was buying them?
Her nostrils flared. Probably a perverted Ventrallan lord who had seen the Summerian wagon and thought what all people thought when they saw Summer’s flame—slaves for sale.
One of the soldiers whistled. Silence held for a beat.
“You can even keep the wagon,” the purchaser prodded. “Don’t want your queen finding out anything too soon.”
Your queen.This person wasn’t Ventrallan.
Finally the lead soldier snorted. The coins jingled again. “They’re all yours.”
Keys rattled. Footsteps moved toward the door. Ceridwen lifted higher, her body pivoted between Lekan and whoever might come at them. She slowed her breath, buther heart didn’t listen, thumping against her ribs as a key slid into the lock.
The door creaked open.
She slid forward, ready to lunge—
The buyer, a soldier, blinked at her in the hazy light from lampposts along the road. His skin shone black against the encroaching shadows, and behind him, a woman stood among a cluster of horses and more soldiers. Her dark hair was knotted into a bun just above the stiff collar of her gray wool gown. On her back, glinting in the twilight, sat an ax.
The fight drained out of Ceridwen on a rush of breath.
“Giselle?”
The queen of Yakim had bought them.
4
Meira
THE FIRST THOUGHTthat hits me when I wake up is:I’mreallytired of passing out because of magic.
A small fire clicks and pops to my left, its smoke permeating the air. I force my eyes open, thankful I’m met with the manageable darkness of night instead of an explosion of sunlight, my head thumping in time with the passing seconds.
“You can heal yourself, you know,” comes Rares’s voice.
I roll onto my side, my fingers digging into my forehead in an attempt to push away the last remnants of agony. A ring of trees surrounds our clearing, thick foliage hanging from drooping branches. Rares doesn’t look up from where he’s running a sharpening stone against one of the kitchen knives I stole.
“If I knew how to control my magic that well, I wouldn’t have followed you,” I snap. “What did you evendo to me?Howdid you do it?”
Rares tests the blade with his thumb and sighs. “I’d expect ill-cared-for knives in a pauper’s kitchen, but the Ventrallan king’s? This is a disgrace.”
My glare deadens. He mutters that not even chickens deserve to be butchered by such blades.
