Ageltrude, once called Vateria, pressed her hand to her chest. “It’s me.”
PART TWO
Chapter Eighteen
Eight months later . . .
They locked themselves away behind their thickest doors deep inside their temple. And they stayed inside even after the cries of battle started. They stayed inside when someone banged on the door, begging for help. They stayed inside when blood began to seep beneath the door. They stayed inside even when a cold, brutal silence abruptly descended.
It wasn’t until they knew the suns had come up that they finally unlocked and opened those thick, protective doors.
Their most priceless items remained. Gold statues of their chosen goddess. Silver chalices they used for rituals. Jewel-encrusted clothes they wore during ceremonies remained untouched.
But there was that long line of blood leading from the protective doors, through the temple, and ending up outside.
Together they followed that line until they reached the stairs. That’s where they stopped. Some of the acolytes looked away. Others vomited. Even more dropped to their knees, arms raised, thanking their goddess for protecting them through the night.
But their priestess . . . she knew. It hadn’t been a goddess who’d come to her early in the day to warn her to hide behind those thick doors before suns-down.
It had, however, been a woman. Made of muscle and sinew and a few scars. There was no pity in those eyes that the priestess could see. At first, the priestess thought the whole thing a trick. A trick to get her to leave their temple’s precious treasures untended for anyone to take them. Sell them. Make more than a few pieces of gold.
Now, as she stared out over the organized carnage left behind, she realized that the coldness in those eyes had not been for her or her goddess. But for the men who had come here, the mark of Chramnesind branded into their chests.
It was through those marks that spears had been rammed, pinning the men to the ground, on their knees, lifeless heads lifted toward the suns.
The priestess’s second in command ordered the others to release these men from their vile ends, but the priestess stopped that order.
“You want us to leave them here? Like this? Defiling our temple?”
“They’re not defiling our temple. They’re outside our temple. Have the blood inside cleaned up now, but we’ll burn the bodies later.”
“Why would we do that?” she asked.
“So the world can see that in the Southlands whom one worships is still a protected choice.”
“They did steal,” one of the acolytes pointed out. “The ones who did this.”
“I saw nothing missing.”
“That barrel of apples we just picked . . .”
The priestess, who was very tall, moved in close to the acolyte and glared down at her. “Really? They saved our lives and our temple and you’re bitching about gods-damn apples?”
“I’m just saying,” she replied, “they could have asked.”
“I swear,” the priestess sighed out, heading back inside. “You people.”
Kachka tossed another apple core to Zoya—she liked apple cores, which Kachka thought was disgusting, but to each her own—while Kachka pulled two more apples from her travel pack. She gave one to her horse and ate the other.
They still used the Southland horses that had been given to them eight months ago. They managed pretty well considering their size. Although they had to take frequent breaks or the horses became bitchy.
“So where are we off to now, Kachka Shestakova?” Zoya asked.
They were very close to the Western Mountains that separated the Southland territories from the Quintilian Provinces. Kachka chuckled to herself thinking about just showing up at the fancy palace of the Rebel King. What would his royal family think?
“I don’t know,” Kachka finally replied in their language. “We’ll have a better idea once Tatyana gets back from that town we passed.”
“We should have gone with her,” Ivan complained. He complained a lot now that Zoya had stopped hitting him when he did so. “Stayed at a pub for the night.”
They all stopped and looked back at him.
“I can’t be the only one who likes a nice soft bed. I can’t be!”
“I hate the beds here,” Zoya replied, walking off with her horse right behind her. It was the biggest horse the queen’s stables had and was feared by almost all her soldiers, but he had immediately adored Zoya. Of course, she always treated horses and other animals much better than she treated men. “They are too short for me unless the pub caters to the dragons.”
“Everything’s too short for you, Zoya,” Marina pointed out.
“I know!” she replied gleefully. “I never have to go up on my toes. I see all just from here!”
Yelena pointed. “Tatyana’s returning.”
Kachka’s cousin rode up to them, reining in her horse when she reached the Riders. “I tracked a group of travelers to a nearby town. Their boots and scabbards were in that fancy style of Annaig Valley. I’m guessing they’re Chramnesind followers.”
“That’s rather blatant,” Marina noted.
“What worried me,” Tatyana went on, “was that they disappeared without a trace into the surrounding forest right by the base of the mountains. Their tracks just ended.” She pulled out her water flask. “I know of at least three monasteries on the other sides of those mountains.” She took a long drink before adding, “But that’s no longer your queen’s territory, Kachka. It belongs to the Rebel King.”
“So?” Kachka tossed her apple core to Zoya before mounting her horse. “Take me to where the tracks end. We’ll decide what to do from there.”
“What is there to decide, comrade?” Zoya asked. “We hunt them down and kill them.”
“It’s not the queen’s territory,” Tatyana said again.
“And it could be a trap, Zoya,” Marina added.
“So? I am tired of this sneaking around. Let’s confront them head-on. I am ready!”
“But you’re so good at being stealthy.”
Zoya mounted her horse, the animal grunting a bit as she settled into her saddle. “Unlike my sisters, I’m very delicate and small. That gives me an edge.”
Nina Chechneva, who hadn’t spoken a word in two days for no other reason than she simply hadn’t felt like it, shook her head. “No,” she said to no one in particular before riding off. “I can’t with you, Zoya Kolesova. I just . . . I can’t!”
Zoya watched the witch ride off before asking the others, “She can’t what? She says that around me a lot, and I have no idea what it means. What can she not do, Kachka Shestakova?”
Didacus Domitus scrambled up the hill, pushing himself to run fast. As fast as his human legs would take him.
He knew who these dragons were. Why they were here. What they wanted. He knew. He’d heard the rumors. The tales coming from all over the Empire.
That his cousin Gaius Lucius Domitus had been hunting his “treacherous” kin down like dogs. And even more horrifying, he’d been using the vilest of the Southland dragons to help him. The Mì-runach. The most hated and feared of the Dragon Queen’s soldiers.