Page 47 of Landsome Ruins
It couldn’t have happened already.
I darted outside and hissed his name. Checked around the sides of the tent.
In the event he had gone to my tent to wait for me, I dashed through camp. Inside my tent, my bedding and supplies were neatly laid out. It was clear no one had been there since the stewardesses had arranged it.
Draw couldn’t be gone. Ironclaw wouldn’t have acted so swiftly. He’d have arrangements to make, plans to think through. Draw and I had a few more days together, surely. Wedeserveda few more days.
As much as I could justify it, my pounding heart knew better. I couldn’t lie to myself. This was it. Draw was gone. Shame and fear and a bunch of emotions I couldn’t categorize welled up in me. Stupid. I had been so stupid to leave him alone.
There was only one person who could help me, who would know if Ironclaw had already gone.
This time I flat out ran, my boots digging into the fog-laden ground. I struggled to hold my lantern aloft and my satchel banged into my side as I sprinted, but I wouldn’t let anything slow me down.
The queen’s massive tent appeared before me. Worrisomely, no guard stood at the tent door. I let myself in and was met with a strange sight.
Queen Elthra, fourth of her name, Regal Protectress of Landsome was crying.
The queen didn’t cry. I’d read a number of scenes where she let her anger or pettiness get the better of her, but she never once cried.
Sir Key stood before her, his hands clutched stiffly at his sides, as if he didn’t know what to do. His scar was pale against his skin.
“Lady Dottie,” Queen Elthra said, half startled to see me. She was wrapped in blue flannel pajamas. Her stark blond hair was loose down her back. Her nose was pink. She sniffed and coughed, then found her voice. “The most terrible thing has happened.” It was only then I saw the muss of parchment in her hand. A letter. “Sir Ironclaw has left us to battle the Dark Mage himself.” Her voice pitched. “He’s going to get himself killed,the fool!”
The lanterns stirred as the tent flaps parted and the night air rushed in. Lady Ariana arrived, Jerrald close behind her. I saw Jerrald’s face go tight with surprise, but Ariana had clearly been there earlier. She dashed to the queen’s side and knelt at her chair, light blue handkerchief in hand.
Jerrald’s and Sir Aaron’s eyes met. Some wordless conversation took place that I was not privy to.
“What of Lord Draw?” I said, too softly. “Did Ironclaw take Lord Draw?”
Queen Elthra wiped her eyes. Her brow furrowed. “What reason would he have to take a solicitor to battle?”
Ariana took the letter and scanned it. “He wrote nothing of Lord Draw.”
My hands went to my temples. “There was a prophecy. Ironclaw was going to take Lord Draw to the Dark Mage and trade him for the apprentice.” My voice caught. “I was supposed to protect Draw.”
Queen Elthra’s tears cleared while she calculated. “Sweet lords,” she cursed. “It’s his sister, isn’t it?”
Everyone looked between us in confusion, but I nodded, impressed she had guessed it as Ironclaw had. “The Lady Bianca is the apprentice. Ironclaw is planning to trade Draw for his sister, but it’s not going to work. Bianca is too far gone. He’s just going to get Draw tortured and killed.”
Ariana’s attention zeroed in on Jerrald. “Send riders after them. Our swiftest.”
The queen’s voice came in bitter agreement, “If Ironclaw won’t yield to reason, engage.”
Jerrald dashed out of the tent, but I knew it would be fruitless.
“We need to go ourselves, Your Grace.”
“We’ll double-time the march,” she agreed, already standing to action. “Pack through the night and urge the host forward at first light.”
“No, Your Grace.” I looked into her sky-blue eyes and saw a ruler there but also a young woman abandoned by her true love. “We have to go after Sir Ironclaw and Lord Draw now. You and me.”
