Truthwitch (The Witchlands 1)

“Anyone here?” Safi shouted over the four-beat hammer of hooves.

Iseult’s eyes squeezed briefly shut. Then burst wide again. “No one. Not yet.”

Safi’s grip tightened on her reins. One hand moved to her sword hilt. Just get to the pier. That was all she had to do.

“Sign!” Iseult barked.

Safi squinted ahead. What had once been an ornately stamped sign now dangled atop an iron column. It was the fourth like it they’d seen.

LEJNA: 1 LEAGUE

One league—that was minutes away. Despite the tears in Safi’s eyes from the wind and the dirt, despite the fact that her heart might rip from her throat with fear, and despite the fact that she and Iseult could be cut down by a Bloodwitch at any moment, Safi grinned.

She had her Threadsister beside her. That was all that mattered—all that had ever mattered.

Her horse rounded a bend. The ghost forest opened up to reveal a city ahead. Lejna’s crescent shape hugged the shore, and the row-buildings that lined its streets might have once been colorful and crisp. Now they crumbled and their roofs caved in. Only three docks still stood, the rest reduced to abandoned posts jutting up from the waves.

Safi spurred the mare faster. Harder. She would get Merik his thrice-damned trade agreement.

“Is that Merik?” Iseult asked, blasting apart Safi’s thoughts.

Safi searched the sea, hope soaring into her skull … until she spotted the Nubrevnan warship coasting into Lejna’s crescent bay. It moved at a breakneck speed, sails glowing orange in the sun.

And with green-clad sailors crawling the decks.

Safi’s hope plummeted to her toes. She shouted for Iseult to break, and she reined her own mare to a stop.

Iseult’s roan pulled up short, dust pluming, and both girls walked their horses alongside the cliff, squinting into the sun. The horses huffed their exhaustion, but their ears were still high.

“I think that’s the ship we left to the Marstoks,” Safi said at last. “Princess Vivia’s ship.”

“It certainly looks like their uniforms. Which means we could be dealing with Firewitches.”

Safi swore and ran a hot hand over her face. It was gritty with dust. Everything was gritty—her throat, her eyes, her brain—and more dust kept gusting in. “Why are there so many soldiers on a single ship? Surely they’re not all me.”

Thunder boomed from the south, brief and all-consuming. Safi twisted her head toward it … and a fresh slew of oaths fell off her tongue.

Storm clouds were rumbling in fast, and at the mouth of the bay were more ships. Marstoki naval galleons, waiting in a row as if to guard the Hundred Isles.

Or to keep the Jana out.

“Merik won’t be able to sail in.” Safi pushed the mare into a slow trot. The path veered inland; maybe the dead pine forest would offer some protection from the quickening gales and the eyes of Marstoki sailors.

“That’s the least of our worries,” Iseult said, increasing her roan’s pace. “That first ship is almost to the Lejna piers. This is clearly an ambush—” She broke off as a fresh burst of wind pounded into her—and into Safi.

They both turned their faces away, blocked their eyes and mouths. The air tangled in their clothes and hair, clattered at the horses’ tack, and then rattled through bone-dry branches ahead. The only thing that didn’t bend to the wind’s will was the alert-stone’s light—which, Safi realized, she should probably put away. No need to attract the Marstoks.

As she untied the stone from her saddlebag, Iseult called, “Which pier do you need to get to?”

Good question. Safi had no rutting idea which dock was Pier Seven. There were too many empty posts to sort it out. “I’ll have to try all three.” She patted the mare, who was still dark with sweat but seemed better for the walking. Then she led the horse into the dead pines. “Got any ideas for a plan?”

“Actually,” Iseult answered slowly, “I might. Do you remember that time outside of Veñaza City? When we wore each other’s clothes?”

“You mean when we almost got killed by those Nommie-hating bastards at the tavern?”

“That’s the time!” Iseult veered her roan closer to Safi, clearly hoping not to have to shout her way through this plan. Her hair flipped and flayed across her face. “We gave those men what they wanted to see, remember? But then the Nomatsi girl they thought they’d cornered turned out to be you.”

“One of our finer tricks.” Safi smiled tightly, swatting her own wayward hair from her eyes.

“Why wouldn’t that same plan work now?” Iseult asked. “We can still try to reach Lejna before that ship, but if that doesn’t work out—”

“Doesn’t look like it will.”

“—then we can ditch the horses, hide the alert-stone, and split up. I’ll be the decoy and draw them into the city. You can go to the piers. Once you’ve reached all three, go back to the alert-stone. Light it up, and I’ll find you.”

“Absolutely rutting not.” Safi glowered at Iseult. “That’s the worst idea you’ve ever had. Why would you put yourself in danger—”

“That’s just it,” Iseult interrupted. “The Truce says they can’t kill anyone on foreign soil, right?”

“It also says they can’t land here, but they clearly don’t care about that.”

“Actually, the Truce says no foreign vessels can land here,” Iseult countered. “Their vessel isn’t foreign.”