"She is, while she lives," Thorne said. "But my people will not trust an Endrean girl raised as a Dallisor. Some will believe that if they kill her, they can obtain the Olden Blade for themselves." He gestured to the audience, which was already murmuring her name, all of it unfriendly. "They will accept her in time, but not tonight."
"Not ever." Kestra bit her lip, raising barricades around herself again. At least this time, I understood. I couldn't imagine how it must feel to be given the quest of killing the last of your blood, to save a people who wanted you dead.
"Wherever she goes, I go." I pushed toward her, but again, Thorne held me back.
"We will take care of her," he said. "Kestra is no longer your responsibility."
And that was it. She didn't have the chance to say good-bye before she was whisked away, and then Tenger was at my side, ordering me to help get Trina to safety. I obeyed, but for Trina's sake, not the captain's. Even as I lifted Trina into my arms, my mind remained with Kestra, wondering what was happening to her. Holding on to Kestra felt like keeping a handful of smoke, almost impossible. But I had to try.
In only four days, she had gone from being the spoiled daughter of my enemy to being the sole hope of a clan we were forced into trusting. Worse still, she had taken on the task of killing an immortal ruler. How could she possibly succeed?
It was very early in the morning before I found her again. Kestra was saddling up a horse the Halderians must have given her, a brown courser with a thick black mane and strong build. It would serve her well.
Kestra was dressed differently now, with her hair washed and braided, and in much finer clothes than the rags she'd arrived in. She had riding breeches that fit her perfectly, worn with a thick and parted overskirt to keep her warm, with or without a cloak. It lacked the bright colors or patterns of the Dallisors, but the muted style seemed more in keeping with her sacred quest. A low-hanging belt on her waist provided a sheath for a simple sword on one side, and the Olden Blade on the other.
I barely dared to greet her again. She was the same girl who had captured my heart and occupied my mind. And yet, she was a sudden stranger. I didn't know what to do, or say, or what to expect.
She turned before I had to say anything, but her smile was cautious. "No bandage for your head?"
"I'm fine."
She parted my hair to see where Tenger had hit me with the rock, then lowered her hand, looking as awkward as I felt.
"I was worried," she whispered.
It wouldn't be anything compared to the way I was worried for her. How could I tell her that? Make her understand that I hadn't slept a minute last night, not knowing if she was safe.
Kestra brushed a hand over her horse's mane. "His name is Shadow. He's the best they have."
"Good." Talking to her was like swimming through mud. "Good, I suppose."
She smiled. "The Halderians are training tigers as replacements for their horses. They believe it's the best way to combat the Dominion's oropods in battle."
That got my interest. "Tigers? Seriously?"
"They're hoping this latest breed doesn't try eating their riders ... again. I was offered one, but I told them I'd take a horse until they get the details worked out."
My grin widened, then quickly faded. "Darrow would be proud of you, Kes. Your father would be proud."
Her eyes darted, though they were clearer now. "Why didn't he say something? He had hundreds of chances."
I understood Darrow's reasons, though I doubted she ever would. If Darrow had told her the truth, he would have obligated her to become the Infidante. He was trying to save her from ... this.
She shrugged away her sorrow, for now. "How is Trina?"
"Tenger is taking her back to the Coracks. We hope that Loelle can prevent any permanent damage. Trina wants to talk to you."
"No, absolutely not."
"My lady?" Tenger had come up behind us, with Trina at his side. His calf was bandaged where Kestra had cut him last night. Trina's hands were bandaged too, and her face was ashen. But the biggest change about both was subtler. They seemed ... humbled.
Kestra's eyes roved from Tenger to Trina without registering any particular expression on her face, and she remained silent.
Tenger took a cautious step forward. "If I had known who you were--who you are--I would have helped you claim the Blade."
Would he? I wasn't sure, and Kestra still hadn't responded.
Tenger continued, "I won't apologize for how things happened last night, but I am sorry again about your father. It was never our intention that Darrow should die."