Page 6 of Mistake of Magic
Coal’s nostrils flared, smelling the female for hidden injury as his eyes surveyed her face, her body—her full chest and curves that the tight leather pants and belted tunic did nothing to hide. They all seemed all right. Lera certainlyhadbeen fully healthy when they trained this morning, her warm body pressing against every inch of Coal’s until he was uncertain which of the two of them was in greater discomfort. If she was bleeding—
“Not now, you idiot.” Lera rolled her eyes, her thick braid swinging against her back. “I mean, when I... go into heat.”
Blood rushed to Coal’s face. “I... I don’t...” He had little notion of how often such things happened to humans. Glancing around for reinforcements, he found himself alone except for Tye, who’d plainly heard the question and was backing away before Coal could pull the bastard into the conversation.
“You are aware that such things happen, right?” Lera said.
“No. Yes.” Czar danced beneath him again. Surrendering what little dignity he still had, Coal raised his face and bellowed for Kora, who had the decency to keep her face straight while listening to the problem. Once Coal was done speaking, however...
The laughter bubbling from Kora’s chest started as a series of small, choked sounds, escalating to a full-chested howl before she could gather control over herself, her hands on her thighs. “Plainly”—she turned to Lera, whose own attempt at holding in her laughter was losing ground by the moment—“the answer is yes, they will go crazed whenever your cycle starts—seeing as how they can’t even speak of it without turning red enough to signal their whereabouts to enemy troops.”
Coal’s jaw clenched. On top of everything, the mortal’s form was starting to slip in the saddle, and Coal’s hands strained with the desire to guide her shoulders and hips into alignment. “I’m glad you two find this so amusing.”
“No,” Lera tried and failed to master herself. “Not at all. It’s just—”
“Stop,” Coal said. “Just bloody stop. And get your heels down.”
Swallowing a final laugh, Lera turned to Kora, now walking beside Sprite’s shoulder. “Are you enjoying the Citadel?” she asked.
Kora gave Lera a sidelong glance, suspicion replacing amusement in her face.
Coal sighed. “No oneenjoysthe Citadel, mortal,” he said, saving the trainee from having to choose between lying and speaking against her elders. “The trials and traditions are designed to be stressful and pit the quints against each other. With senior quints taking out the abuse they received attheirelders’ hands on the juniors, humiliation becomes a blood sport.”
“Do many quints quit?” Lera asked. “I mean, after the trials? I know the runes stop anyone from leaving before then.”
“Some,” Coal said shortly. “No court will accept a rogue quint, so the defectors become a law unto themselves—or sell their services to the highest bidder.”
“The Night Guard,” Lera said slowly, her eyes squinting in memory.
“Yes.” Coal straightened his back. They were almost at the Citadel gate now. “That is what those warriors siding with Mors’s Emperor Jawrar and the qoru call themselves. The council has dispatched us to put down several such units. Never a pleasant task.”
“I imagine not,” Kora said.
“Oh, come now,” Tye cut in smoothly, blatantly nudging aside Coal’s horse with his own.
Coal supposed it was a bloody miracle that the redheaded male had lasted this long before claiming the females’ attention—though if Tye had eyes for Kora, he was likely barking up the wrong tree. Then again, since meeting Lera, Tye’s appetites had turned very singular anyway.
“Bringing in rogues is better than disemboweling overgrown worms,” Tye said. “River just happens to take it a wee bit too personally—being both the one exception to the ‘no court will harbor a quint’ ruleandbeing rather high on the whole honor and duty thing.”
“Could you translate what Tye just said, please?” Lera asked, her eyes sending lightning down Coal’s spine.
“River is the prince of Slait,” Coal said, pointedly not looking at the commander. “If his father dies, River will ascend the throne and Slait will thus absorb our quint.”
Tye grinned. “Understandably, the Elders Council wants River on Slait’s throne—and free of their control—about as much as River’s father wishes to die off.”
“Enough,” River ordered sharply, pointing ahead. They’d rounded the final switchback, and now the wall rose above them, blindingly white in the sun. The wide road led through an intricate metal archway that stood taller than two fae males and now opened on silent hinges before them.
Coal knew that it would shut just as silently and implacably behind them when they went through it.
5
Lera
Idismount before going through the gate. Not because Sprite would have any trouble navigating the entrance, but to buy myself a few extra moments. Despite the laughter and conversation, echoes of the haunting images that flooded my mind at the first sight of this wall still thud through me.Gray, cold, streaked with blood left by broken fingernails. Manacles cut into my skin, the sound of them closing around my wrists turning my bowels. The stench of pain to come—I blink to disperse the vision.
Shade’s wolf hangs back to wait for me. Then, catching my eye, he seems to think better of it and lopes on after the others, letting me find my own footing through the gate.
Whatever dungeon I thought I saw in my mind, I discover a moment later, was most certainlynotthe Citadel. Grand buildings of shining white marble rise in every direction, connected by a vast square of geometric pathways and manicured, bright green grass. Flowing grapevines wrap around thick columns. The air smells like fruit blossoms and freshly cut lawn. Fae stride along with purpose, some—armed and uniformed in a manner similar to Kora and her warriors—moving together in groups of five. Others, dressed in whatever struck their fancy that morning, stride alone or in pairs, their arms laden with books and scrolls. I’d imagined the Citadel as a military barracks of sorts, but it appears to be a place of study and learning as much as a warrior training ground. How I imagine a university would look back in the mortal lands, not that I’ve ever stepped close to one.
