“…Hurry! He’ll be here soon.”
I rush from my tomb of straw, dust off the pieces clinging to my surcoat, and straighten my back. If I don’t act soon, I may never have a chance to carry out my mission.
Gabriel will find me. He’ll tie me up, and I’ll never get close to Hector.
Quick breaths escape me as I step from the stables and listen. The sound of horses’ hooves carry to my ears.
Someone is certainly coming. Someone that could be Hector.
I gulp in warm air and try to calm my frantic heart. This is the right thing to do.
It has to be.
I flatten myself against the wall of the stables as a woman and young child scurry by. They don’t pay any attention to me. If they did, they’d see me standing with my hair wild and straw clinging to my surcoat.
Sunlight streaks through the clouds, illuminating me and the rider suddenly in view. I squint against the brightness, needing to see a glimpse of his face, but he rides by so quickly, I only make out a blur of his figure and the glint of the gold livery collar around his neck.
I reach for the throwing knife and draw in more calming breaths. This is the only way.
For Mother.
For Kassandra.
For all Kyanites.
I raise one knife, ready to launch it, and scream as loudly as I can. “Hector!”
The warrior responds to his name and yanks on his horse’s reins, jerking the stallion my direction
I release the throwing knife. The weapon rotates through the air and collides with Hector’s chest.
My breath stills as the man’s familiar eyes widen and lower to the weapon protruding from his chest. Alarm spreads through my veins as the ground wobbles beneath my feet and the trees tilt.
No!
A scream wrenches from my throat as he reels forward, clutches feebly at his horse’s reins before losing his grip and plummeting from his mount. Dust kicks into the air as he lands on his side, and his stallion runs away.
Ash claws at my throat as I hurry to where he lies and roll him onto his back.
“Gabriel,” I say, his name raw against my throat.
This cannot be.
Please. Someone please.
This cannot be.
Spasms overcome me as I pitifully try to stifle the blood from the wound I inflicted. It pours between my fingers as the sky opens, spilling rain on us.
I chant quickly in the healing tongue of my people. It doesn’t work. The words aren’t there. The power isn’t there.
“Gabriel!” I scream into the wind.
The wind doesn’t answer. Nothing answers.
Silence throbs heavy between us.
He’s so still.
