“I was to bargain for port rights and make inquiries as to the identity of the new bearer.”
“But you were forced to go into hiding?”
“Exactly so. Once the Invierne army began to gather, I knew my people had given up on diplomacy. This second failure made my life forfeit.”
The Deciregi. The most powerful animagi in the world. Those I’ve already faced seemed powerful enough, with their firebolts and invisible shields—not to mention their mysterious attraction to my Godstone, which makes it nearly impossible for me to hide from them.
“It’s brave of you to return with me,” I say, “given the death sentence on your head.”
He shrugs. “We’ll sneak in and out as quickly and quietly as possible.”
I bend my knees and rest my elbows on them, looking over toward Belén, who still leans over Mara’s prone form. I smile to myself. Mara hates Belén much less than she lets on.
“Elisa?” Storm says. “That is your plan, is it not?”
I place my fingertips to the Godstone, seeking assurance in its solidness. “Yes. But it won’t be as easy as you make it sound. That’s why they took Hector, after all—to draw me to Invierne. They’re expecting me. So, if stealth doesn’t work, I will make a loud and noisy entrance and wreak as much havoc as possible.” I turn to measure his reaction to what I’ll say next. “A deception may be in order. If we can’t rescue Hector quietly, I want you to pretend I am your prisoner.”
His mouth opens. Closes.
“I know lying is difficult for you,” I add hastily. “But deception is not. You had no qualms about convincing Eduardo’s soldiers you were an animagus.”
“I will not have to lie?”
“Not with words, no.”
He returns my gaze, and his green eyes dance. “Then, yes, I like this plan. They would not kill me if I brought them the bearer of the only living Godstone. They would welcome me as a hero.”
“A prince of the realm.”
He leans back against the tree trunk and closes his eyes. “A prince of the realm,” he agrees softly.
One way or another, I will have Storm reinstated and his honor restored. I haven’t told him yet, but he has an important role to play in wresting my kingdom back from Conde Eduardo. And I suppose now is as good a time as any to begin putting that part of my plan into motion.
Carefully I say, “Since going to meet the zafira, my Godstone has been more alive inside me than ever. More sensitive to my prayers, more . . . everything.”
His eyes turn as hard and glittery as emeralds, with either anger or excitement. “But you gave up the power. You brought a whole mountain down on the zafira!”
“Yes, I tried to give it up. And I don’t buzz with power the way I did when we were on that island. But it’s still there. Like a pesky fly that won’t be swatted away. I think the zafira isn’t as done with me as I am with it. So I might as well use it, right?”
“Of course.”
“So once we are into the mountains, away from the villages and priests who might sense my Godstone, I’d like to try a few things. I can already heal with it, and when I was connected directly to the zafira, I was able to create a protective barrier to fend off the gatekeeper.”
“You made things grow too,” he adds. A muscle in his jaw twitches, like he’s barely keeping his excitement in check. Maybe this is a conversation he has been anticipating. “And you freed me by breaking my chains. Nothing has been able to break them since.”
“And I couldn’t break them now, without direct access to the zafira. But there are some things I could always do just by reaching through the skin of the earth. Something happened to me in that cavern, Storm. And though it’s nothing like the feeling I got when the power was swirling all around me, I suspect . . . I hope . . . that I can do more than I used to.”
His fingers are fisted in his tunic now. He knows what I’m going to say next.
“So, I’d like to try summoning fire, like your animagi do. And . . . I’d like you to try it too.”
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at me.
I press on. “I suspect the zafira changed you too. You could sense it as we approached, remember? And it touched you, claimed you for its gatekeeper before I stole you away. So maybe it has awakened your stone a little. Maybe you can do things with it now that you couldn’t before.”
His hand goes to his chest, where he clutches the amulet that hangs hidden beneath his tunic. I’ve seen it only once before—a tiny iron cage, black with age, that houses a blue jewel just like the one that lives in my navel.
Except his is powerless. Dead.
“We could train together, you and I.” Gently I add, “No one need know about it, save our companions.”
He is silent for a long time. One of the horses snorts and tosses her mane. Something rustles in the tumbleweed beside us.
“I will try it,” he says at last. “Once we are in the mountains. Near the divide, beyond the free villages, is a weeklong stretch of travel where we will not encounter even a trading post. That will be a good time.”
“Yes,” I agree, relieved to have convinced him so easily. “A very good time.”
6
HECTOR
IF Elisa were here, she could pray warmth into her body with the power of her Godstone. It gives me comfort. She’ll never be so cold as I am now.
Wind whistles down the mountain slopes, penetrating even my leather armor, flinging needles of icy rain. The Inviernos greet the cooling weather with laughter and smiles of relief, but we Joyans hunch over our horses for warmth, letting our mounts guide us rather than raising our faces to the wet cold.
In spite of the clove hitch, I stretch my fingers open, then tighten them into fists. Open, close—over and over again, to force warmth and movement. The effort grinds the ties into my wrists, but I keep at it. The air has gotten so cold that icy numbness is a greater danger than injury.
But by the time Franco calls a halt, I know I’ve miscalculated. I’ve lost the battle and my palms have cramped, my fingers curled into useless claws. Which means I must now deal with both numbness and injury.
One of the Joyans, a stocky man with a chipped front tooth, comes to help me from the saddle. I know him vaguely. A soldier from the city watch, one of General Luz-Manuel’s men. Yet more evidence that our highest-ranking military official has been plotting treason with the conde.
If I don’t dismount quickly, I’ll be yanked off. My left leg is steady in its stirrup as I swing my right leg over and slide to the ground. I can do it without grabbing the pommel now, though I always pretend to. With a little more practice, I’ll turn the dismount into a hard kick to someone’s face.
The Joyan with the chipped tooth drags me toward a pine tree, forces me to sit, and ties me up, wrapping my waist three times. He ends with a hasty triple-looped rolling hitch—a knot that is unique to Puerto Verde. Sunny Puerto Verde. I’m not the only one who is a very long way from home.
I say, “It’s wrong that the Inviernos drag us into their icy winter without outfitting us properly. It’s like they want us to suffer.”
“Shut up,” he says.
He yanks on the rope, testing it. Satisfied, he stands and gazes toward the warm, bright campfire. It’s surrounded by laughing Inviernos. He rubs at the thin linen covering his arms.
I have made him notice. That’s all I need to do.
Later, Franco himself brings soup in a bowl. It’s gamey and thick with pine-bark pulp. I peer over the rim while I slurp it down. I’ve gotten better at doing everything with my useless hands. When I get back to Brisadulce, I may institute this as a training exercise; all my men should learn how to eat, ride, and use the latrine with their hands tied. “Where are you taking me?” I ask Franco, not expecting a response.