Jasce comes to a sudden stop, his fingers loosening a fraction. “Suppress it,” he says, his words low enough for only me to hear. “You won’t be here long. I promise.”
“Why should I trust you?” The question comes out in a lash of anger.
“Because I am not my father.” He pulls me close, with his mouth near my ear. “I am on your side.”
“You could just be saying that to calm me down.”
Sunlight flashes across his face, illuminating the gold flecks in his brown eyes. “I could, yes. But if you kill me, you’ll never know what it would be like to have a Hematite willing to align himself as one Tarrobane.”
One Tarrobane.
Oh, how my heart aches for a united Tarrobane.
We pass by row after row of tents made of rough canvas and animal hides, some adorned with a crimson phoenix. I lift my chin, smelling the scent of smoke and venison, and my stomach gurgles loudly.
As we make our way deeper into the camp, the sound of clanking metal and murmured conversations fills the space between the tents. Some of the Hematite warriors sit outside, laughing and telling stories, while others mend their armor.
I look away from them, focusing as Jasce leads me to a mammoth-sized tent made of linen, dyed a deep shade of blue, and embroidered with gold thread that glimmers in the sunlight. Six wooden poles support it, each one carved with images of fierce looking creatures.
I shudder and draw in a quick breath as Jasce turns to the warrior holding on to Everly.
“Stay here.”
The man nods, and Jasce steps forward. As he does, the guards shift, parting to allow us entrance.
My heart slams against my ribs aswe step inside the tent. It’s enormous, larger than any tent I have ever seen, with high ceilings and rich maroon curtains adorning the walls.
Jerrod, the Hematite chieftain, sits on an ornate throne, his eyes locked on us. He’s older, with silver-streaked hair cascading down to his shoulders. A well-groomed beard accentuates his square jaw. Thick bandages cover his arms and hands.
He skims over me, his cold, dark eyes sending a shiver down my back. I stand tall, keeping my shoulders straight and my attention on him.
Jasce speaks first. “This is Sol. The Kyanite woman I told you about.”
The chieftain settles his stare on my bandaged hands. “Is it true that you cannot heal?”
“It is.”For now.
My heart lightens at that thought. It gives me hope amid a dark sky. Soon, I’ll find my stars again. I’ll heal. I’ll mend the way I have always wanted to.
“There is something I want from you. And you will bring it to me,” he says, his words simple, yet there is absolutely nothing simple about him. Not when, with just a nod of his head, his warriors could skewer me the way they did those villagers.
When I remain silent, he continues. “If you don’t, I will take your friend, and I will throw her in the nearest fire.”
Fear grips my chest, tightening, squeezing, as I fight to maintain my calm, to not run, to not scream, or to beg the gods for mercy.
Stay calm.
It’s all you have.
He cannot take it away.
Something in me breaks free of that fear, lassos it, and commands it to stand down. I lift my chin even higher.
He continues. “You will bring me Mildred’s relic, the one in an amber vial.”
How does the Hematite chieftain know about Mildred and her relics? I glance at Jasce, wondering if he told him.
“How will I know which one you want?” I ask, my words far calmer than I feel.
