“I’m sure you’ve seen runes before, Khalad.” Lady Zoya shrugged. “Speed is our priority, or so Empress Alyx told me. With my help, I can get you across the sea and back to Kion in under two days. It’s not as quick as a daeva perhaps, but we’re not paid enough for all this tomfoolery.”

“Two days?” I blurted before I could help myself. “A ship’s journey from here to Kion takes three times that long.”

“What can I say? We’re women of many talents.” She stared hard at me. “And who in the seven hells are you?”

“Tea found a scribe,” Lord Khalad said, watching the men cast off the lines and hoist the anchor.

“A scribe? All the havoc she’s wreaked in the kingdoms, and she wishes to have that immortalized on paper? She needs a good thrashing.”

“Her story needed telling!” Perhaps traces of her compulsion still lingered inside me, goading me into defending a woman I still sometimes feared.

“Her side of the story?” The asha shot an arm out toward the horizon as the sails unfurled behind her. “Take a long, hard look, you idiotic man. Tell me what defense you can make of that.”

I saw faint wisps of gray smoke wafting from a long way off. “What is that?” I asked, horrified.

“The smoke is from Kion, you little simperseed. Her azi attacked Ankyo five days ago. I don’t know where the rest of her daeva are, but one was more than enough to destroy Ankyo. You may not know what she intends, Fox, but I do. She’s calling for war, and damnation to anyone who stands in her path.”

2

It takes great inner strength and perseverance to survive in the coldest place in the world, but the Isterans have always done so with style. Brass fanfare greeted us as we landed at the edge of the Runeswood. While I was certain most of those waiting had never seen the azi before, to their credit, they stood their ground when the dragon turned its three heads toward them, rumbling noisily. There was, however, a faint clatter of metal hitting metal as more than a few swords slid out of scabbards. The Isterans were a friendly people, but they were also pragmatic.

The cold bit through my cloak. The ground was caked in snow, crunching beneath our boots as we walked. Likh shivered. Wordlessly, Khalad shook off his thick cape and draped it around Likh’s shoulders. The younger boy smiled his gratitude, white teeth chattering even as his cheeks turned pink from more than the frost. The younger boy’s crush on the Heartforger grew every day.