The corner of his mouth twitches. “Yes.”
“Do not burn yourself out needlessly,” Gesine warns, but her lips wobble, like she’s hiding a grin.
The memory of my knees buckling and stomach heaving last night makes me release my hold. The flames die instantly but continue eating away at the blackened wood. Soon it will be good for nothing but a bonfire.
My impulse served the desired effect. No one is threatening to attack anymore. Now they’re all staring at me, even the legionaries who may have heard whispers of last night but didn’t witness it. Surely they’re all wondering what I am, with my glowing silver-white eyes.
But Zander pulls everyone’s attention back quickly. “An army is on its way from Lyndel. I expect it will be brutal and merciless in its hunt for both the vials of poison and any tainted mortals. The Legion and I will not be here when it arrives, and any mortal who wishes to accompany us north is welcome. I cannot promise you an easy path, but I can promise it will not be one where you live in a cage and must die to be free.”
The mortals shift on their feet, stealing wary glances at one another. I see their silent war waging inside, of doubt, of fear, of hope.
I’ve been there.
I again swallow my nerves and step forward. “I understand what it is like to feel alone and helpless. I know what it’s like to be unsure if you’re better off staying in the terrible situation you know, or leaping into another, possibly scarier one ahead.” My voice carries through the eerily silent square. “But I can promise you, if you stay, they will put you back in the cages you were pulled from today, and you may never be free again because this poison won’t disappear. It’s already making its way deeper into Islor. It’s reached as far as Salt Bay in the south and Hawkrest in the east. If you want to build a new life, come with us.”
I look to one of the mothers, her arms curled protectively around two young boys in front of her. “You will never have your children taken away from you again. You will never be forced to give what you don’t want again.” I feel Zander’s eyes on my profile, but I keep trained on these people, who seem to be listening. “And you will have a king who fights for an Islor that values you for more than the blood coursing through your veins.” On impulse, I reach out, weaving my fingers between his. “And despite the blood coursing through your veins.”
At the tied hands of the Ybarisan daughter of Aoife and the Islorian son of Malachi.
I can hear Gesine chanting her prophecies inside my head.
Zander squeezes my hand before lifting it to his mouth. It’s the first open gesture of affection since Cirilea. “If you choose to accompany us, your obligation to your keepers is over.” Objections rise, but Zander raises his voice to speak over them. “You will be under my protection, and any who feel justified in interfering with the departure of those under my protection”—he swings his hard gaze toward the horde of sour-faced keepers—“will not see the sun set on this day. I promise you.”
With that threat laid bare, he turns to Brynn. “Release those who would prefer to stay. We will not force anyone. But for those who wish to come, have two legionaries accompany them to their homes to collect whatever clothing and belongings may be useful on this trek. And should their keepers so much as utter a threat, show them the sharp end of your blade with haste. We don’t have time to spare.”
“With pleasure, Your Highness.” She spins on her heel.
“Gesine, test that group and mark them as required.” The demanding, calm king has returned.
She dips her head. “Your Highness.”
“We will need more horses and wagons, more supplies.” He searches the square as if taking stock of what is available.
“I’ll bet Isembert has a few,” I offer. “And I’d say he owes us after last night’s stress.”
“I’ve always despised pilfering, especially now that I’m taking their literal lifeblood with me.”
“We are at war,” Elisaf reminds him.
“Why does that not make me feel better about it?”
“Romy!” Pan’s familiar chirpy voice from behind me lightens my mood.
Until I see his split lip and swollen right eye. “What happened to you?” Blood drips down his chin.
“A lot. So, funny story. I ran into Fearghal. Remember him from last night?” He gestures next to him.
So preoccupied with Pan’s battered face, I hadn’t noticed the man from Woodswich standing next to him. I offer a tight smile and get a gap-toothed grin in return.
“We got to talkin’ about things. You know, Woodswich and the Ybarisans, and the poison. Oh, look what I found!” He pulls a small glass vial from his pocket.
Zander, who was listening with a hint of a smirk, now sticks his hand out, all amusement gone. “Give it here.”
Pan drops it into his palm. “It’s like the one Colgan had.”
Zander holds it up into the daylight. “And the one we found on your lady maid, Romeria.”
“It’s tiny.”