Page 18 of The Stolen Throne
“Maybe.”
I give a frustrated huff. “The Shadows want to return to Eidolon, so they wouldn’t. The only other one who could use the shadows is Eidolon, and he definitely wouldn’t…” I trail off. Then give him a closer look. He’s been taken over by Shadows before without me figuring it out.
He catches my guarded stare and grimaces. “It’s me.”
“Me, who?” I sound like a bad joke.
“Reven.”
How do I believe that? “We really need some kind of secret code or something to help us both be sure.”
He says nothing.
“I’m not joking.”
“I get that.” He pauses, then taps at the silvery scars on his wrist with two fingers.
I raise my eyebrows. “Is that supposed to be—”
“The signal. Yeah.” He glances off toward the city. “We need to keep moving.”
In other words, stop stalling because the king will come for us sooner rather than later. Hopefully Eidolon has no idea where we are. Does shadowing leave a trail? I open my mouth to ask, only to close it again. Honestly, I’d rather not know.
We complete the next half hour in silence, although I keep sneaking glances at his face. I feel more than see similar glances coming my direction. He’s more subtle than I am.
Like me, he doesn’t say anything.
After awhile, he points off into the distance. “There.”
Sure enough, four horses wait for us on the horizon. One is a pack horse, so if Cain gets to us with Achlys, we’ll have to figure that out. They’re standing beside what looks like a hole in the ground filled with water. Cain’s doing, no doubt.
Imperium split into two types—Hylorae, whose power is over tangible elements like air or rock or fire, and Enfernae, who wield powers over intangible elements like souls or minds…or shadows. Like me, Cain is a Hylorae, only he manipulates water while I control sand.
I’m still not used to the fact that the boy I idolized as a child has powers. It’s not that I’m surprised, since both his parents were Imperium and powers are passed through blood. It’s more like we’ve both grown up suddenly, and I’m not used to the changes.
There’s no sign of him or Achlys.
“Here. Change into these.” Reven pulls stuff out of one of the satchels, then turns his back.
I make a face at him. It’s not like he hasn’t seen my body. I quickly dress.
He gave me Wanderer clothing, though the rust-red color tells me it’s borrowed from a zariphate in the Crimson Desert rather than the Singing Dunes, where Cain’s zariphate usually roams. They must have had to move—a lot—to get way up there.
Still, this is more appropriate for the desert than my name day gown, which I leave in a heap on the sand, happily able to breathe better without the torture contraption they call a corset. My new clothes don’t fit well, but I don’t care. I’m grateful the man thought to bring me some at all. “It’s safe to look now.”
I don’t miss the way his shoulders tense, but I pretend not to notice and scan the horizon in the direction of the city. “How long can we wait?”
“Not long.” He glances toward the horizon where the first rays of sunlight are starting to peek through the night. We walked for quite a while.
I cross my arms and keep watch.
Please let them make it out.
The sun starts its gradual climb into the sky, lighting the world first with grays and lavenders, then pinks and yellows, and finally the brightness of full sunrise.
And still Cain and Achlys haven’t shown.
Reven makes me eat but otherwise doesn’t talk. I’m so distracted I barely taste the dried meat and dense bread he handed me, washing it down with surprisingly cool water from Cain’s makeshift well.
