Froi took in his surrounds. He had to think fast. It was safer to climb the rock behind them and run for the woodlands than it was to return to the tunnel.
‘There,’ he said, taking a quick painful breath and pointing to a large boulder.
Olivier was panicking. Froi could see from the sweat on the lastborn’s brow and the tremble in his body.
‘Olivier, help me with this,’ Froi gasped, placing a hand over the arrow in his thigh. He needed to get it out. But Olivier could only stare at it in horror.
‘Squeamish? You idiot!’
Without Olivier’s help, Froi placed both his hands around the arrow’s base and pulled it free with a hoarse shout of pain. He stole a look again and saw that Bestiano’s riders were still waiting. He wondered if the three of them stood a chance.
‘Froi, listen to me,’ Olivier said. Pleaded. ‘They’ll protect her. And they won’t kill you. I promise.’
Froi froze. No, he thought. Not Olivier. He trusted this lad with his life. With Quintana’s life and that of his unborn child. His eyes met the lastborn’s and he saw the truth there.
‘Olivier?’ Froi said the word, his voice broken. ‘Have you betrayed us? Have you led us into a trap?’
Quintana gasped and Froi saw her horror and fear.
‘Not a betrayal, friends,’ Olivier said. ‘A reprieve. You can’t keep her safe, Froi. You can’t. The Avanosh people almost took her from us. They would have made her a puppet to Sorel. Who will be the next lot to try to take her, Froi? At least Bestiano –’
Quintana cried out at the sound of Bestiano’s name, her arms clutching her body as she wept with futile rage.
‘How could you do this to your queen?’ Froi bit out with fury.
‘How could I not?’ Olivier shouted back. ‘I love my kingdom, Froi, and I will keep it safe. It was the pledge I made to the men you sent to keep me prisoner while you became Olivier of Sebastabol. And they gave me worth. All my life a useless lastborn, and for once, I had purpose.’
Froi took deep breaths to alleviate the pain and to think. Think, Froi. Think.
‘Rafuel of Sebastabol despised the King and Bestiano, you fool,’ Froi said.
‘No,’ Olivier said shaking his head, emphatically. ‘Zabat said –’
‘Zabat? Zabat was a traitor. He switched sides, Olivier. Took you with him without you even noticing. The men who kidnapped you belong to the Priests of Trist and Zabat betrayed them to the riders. Bestiano’s men killed Tariq.’
Olivier shook his head, refusing to believe.
Froi secured the bow and placed the quiver of arrows on his back.
‘You are putting her life in danger, Froi!’ Olivier said, a plea in his voice.
Froi snarled. ‘The first man who fires a bolt at Quintana and the child she carries puts her life in danger.’
Froi held a hand to Quintana’s frightened face. ‘She does not go to Bestiano,’ he promised.
He took in another deep breath of pain, his eyes fixed on Quintana’s. ‘We’re going to run up to that boulder,’ he said, pointing up. ‘They won’t shoot at you, so don’t stop until you reach it.’
‘But they’ll shoot at you,’ she said.
‘And I’ll shoot back.’
‘You’re putting both your lives at risk,’ Olivier cried.
‘A curse on you, Olivier,’ Froi shouted. ‘A curse. You put both our lives at risk and if I ever know that you’ve returned to Paladozza to taint the lives of Grij and Tippideaux and De Lancey and Lirah and Gargarin, I will hunt you down and tear you apart limb by limb.’
Froi looked at Quintana, struggling to his feet. He drew his bow, gave her a nod, and they both ran.
He never stood a chance. The arrows came for him. Another to his thigh. One to his calf. One to the side of his torso. All those drills in the meadows of Lumatere and all that instruction, but Froi never stood a chance. When they reached the boulder and she saw the arrows, Quintana’s cry was full of rage and Froi could have sworn he felt the earth move around them. But the despair was also Froi’s, the knowledge that he could not protect her and his child. It made him want to weep.
He pressed her down behind the rock, trying with all his might to keep the grimace of pain from his expression. Her hands hovered around him, as if she had no idea where to place them. Froi reached out and gripped one of them.
‘It’s not that I liked you least,’ he croaked through his pain, ‘it’s that I feared you most. The Reginita taught me to like you. There was a strange joy to her that lifted my spirits. But you, Quintana of Charyn, you made me love you. And you’re going to have to promise me something.’
‘Don’t ask me to leave you,’ she cried through clenched teeth. ‘I can’t do this on my own.’
‘You can. You did it before. That last day in the Citavita when you let go of my hand. You thought I was a threat to you and you chose to protect the little King on your own rather than put him in danger. On your own, Quintana. You can do it again.’
She shook her head over and over again.
‘The moment I stand and begin lobbing my arrows, you run,’ he ordered, ‘and keep on running. Try to get to Turla. Keep away from the north. Satch has written to say there’s plague in Desantos. But you run, Quintana, and you keep yourself alive.’
‘We’ll do it together, Froi,’ she said with determination, pressing the skirt of her dress to the wound on his thigh to stop the bleeding.
He shook his head. Too much pain. Too much pain.
‘I can’t protect you,’ he gasped. ‘Not like this. I will slow you down and Bestiano will take you. He will kill you the moment you birth the babe.’
‘But they’ll kill you.’
He shook his head, biting back the pain. ‘They would never chance a battle with Lumatere now. They know it will involve Belegonia and Osteria. Their orders are to shoot me to slow me down, but not to kill me. I know such an order, Quintana. I’ve followed them myself. I’m worth more to them alive than dead.’
They both knew he was lying.
‘I’m counting, Froi,’ she cried. ‘I’m counting in my head.’
‘Good girl.’
He took her face in his bloody hands. ‘I’ll come and find you wherever you are. I’ll not stop breathing until I do. So you’re going to have to promise me that you won’t lose hope. That you will keep yourself alive.’
He tried to wipe her tears, but there were too many.
‘I heard your song the moment we were born,’ she sobbed. ‘And years later, it dragged me back from the lake of the half-dead when all I wanted to do was die. Each time someone tried to kill me, it sang its tune and gave me hope.’
She pressed cold lips against his and they tasted the salt of each other’s tears.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked.
She nodded.
‘Run!’
Later, Froi would have sworn to anyone who listened that it was Tariq of Lascow who propped him up so Froi could shoot at anyone in those hills who stood to take aim at Quintana.
And while he thrashed with pain as seven barbs were removed from his body, he wondered if he truly heard the voice of the Reginita in his ear. ‘You’re coming the wrong way, Froi,’ she said indignantly. ‘Turn back!’
But what he knew to be true were those voices surrounding him now. Speaking of Quintana of Charyn.
How seven days had passed since she had disappeared from existence.
That it would take the eyes of the gods to find her.
Or the heart of the Lumateran exile.
Chapter 42
Lucian knew the moment he saw Jory’s face that something was wrong. Because Jory was alone on the Lumateran side of the stream and Lucian knew the lad would never leave her. He was half in love with her himself.
‘Where is she, Jory?’ he asked, his voice harsh. He had decided just hours before to surprise Phaedra and ride down the valley to collect her earlier than usual. It was about time they went to the capital, he told Yata. They’d all go together and stay with Isaboe and Finnikin and he’d properly introduce Phaedra to his queen. As his wife.