Page 54 of The Coven of Ruin
She continued to travel forward when she felt solid ground beneath her feet. If Grae hadn’t maintained his hold on her, she would have landed face-first into a thicket. Unabashedly clinging to his arm, she waited for the world to right itself.
When she could stand alone, she took in the altogether different trees they had gated into. The leaves here had already started to turn, displaying coppery reds and burnt oranges that twirled from the branches as the wind blew. She marveled at them. The Akeso’s hilly landscape bore very few trees, and the summer turned quickly into winter there.
Grae and Ares checked each other over to ensure that none of their masterfully hidden weapons were noticeable except for a dagger that Grae openly carried on him. Then Ares offered his arm to her again. “From here on out, we will assume we are being watched. Just ahead, there is a path that’ll lead toward the prison. Guards are known to patrol the area. As the story goes, you are my wife. Understood?”
“And why can’t I be Grae’s wife instead?” she complained under her breath but took his arm anyway.
Grae huffed out a laugh from behind them. “Trist,” he sang roguishly, “if I had known your feelings on the matter, I’d have never allowed another god to pretend to be your husband.”
She smiled despite herself.
Ares said nothing. Brooding silence it would be then.
She quickly realized that what Ares considered a short trek was, in fact, not short at all. On top of that, Ares’ body heat served only to amplify the warmth of her cloak and the humidity in the air. The path widened and the trees became so sparse until even the reprieve from the sun they had provided was gone.
As far as the eye could see, nothing but open fields lay to either side of them. The path was winding and rough, and she cursed the easy way the gods traversed the landscape, neither breaking a sweat or huffing for breath. Meanwhile, Trista knew her hair was three sizes larger than it had been when she left, and she had to swipe the sweat off the bridge of her nose every few minutes.
If this is the price for knowledge, I would rather not know anything.
The road dipped again, and just as she thought death would be a suitable alternative, a black cliff face rose before them. It lorded ominously over the land, giving an atmosphere of looming dread. It took several more minutes for them to get close enough for her to see a dark bridge and an arched opening in the black slate stone.
“Four guards at the entrance and a handful of archers manning the arrow slits,” Ares muttered.
Grae whistled low.
They only made it two steps onto the draw bridge before a single guard raised his hand to halt them. “Oi, state your name and business.” He closed some of the distance between them, his hand on the hilt of his sword. She imagined the archers had their bows trained on them as well, but she didn’t dare look.
Ares cleared his throat. “My name is Warren from The Coven of Moon and Bone.”
Trista would have laughed out loud under any other circumstance. Out of all the covens, Ares most certainly did not belong inthatcoven.
“This is my brother Forde and my wife Katlyn.”
“And your business,” the guard said in a grating, stuffy voice.
“Her uncle is being kept here.”
“What about your transport?” he asked dubiously, narrowing his eyes at them.
“Just down the road,” Grae answered. “Fortis isn’t what he used to be. That’s my steed. I had him more summers than I can count, really. A rare breed—“
“Right,” the guard said hastily, cutting him off. “And your uncle?” He already appeared as if he didn’t believe them as he eyed Trista up and down a little bit too suspiciously.
“Braxton,” Ares answered for her.
The guard stiffened and then scratched underneath his chin. “He’s accused of treason. Was involved in some real messy dealings. Illegal trading with mortals and the likes.”
“Never was quite right, that one,” Grae remarked agreeably. Trista bit her cheek to keep from smiling.
“So why you wanna visit a traitor to the crown for?”
Ares answered, “He took something from my wife, a family heirloom, and we just want to know where he put it.” Ares arranged his expression in a look of pure disgust, and she wondered how his face appeared to the guard under the guise of glamor. “Though I don’t make it a habit of consorting with traitors, this item is very important to my dear wife.” He looked at her then, his features changing into an image of adoration, as he reached to caress her hand that curled around his bicep. “And as you can imagine, I’d do anything for her.” Her lips parted in disbelief even as he turned back to the guard. “I have permission from the Witch King himself.” He patted his tunic, and Trista wondered if it was a bluff.
The armed mage regarded them for a moment, his lips pursed in a frown. “Any weapons need to stay at the entrance with us,” he finally said.
Ares nodded at Grae, who made a show of handing over the dagger.
“That’s it?” The guard gave them each a quick once over. He shrugged, “don’t matter anyhow, a weapon won’t do ’em any good where they’re at, besides maybe offing themselves before the beasts do.” The mage chuckled to himself.
