“And how pretty you look now!” the maid chirped, leaning forward to fiddle with a few curls around Yvenne’s temples. On a soft breath she whispered, “Jeppen said that all is as you requested.”
Yvenne gave a tiny nod, then glanced over as the Rugusian guard made a rough sound in the back of her throat. She no longer watched the maids and Yvenne. Instead she gazed out of the north window.
Another of the maids caught Yvenne’s eye, then gave a quick look to the guard, making a little shoving motion with her hands. Asking whether to rush the guard and push her out the window.
No good would it do. Two more guards still waited outside the door. Yvenne shook her head, rose to her feet, and crossed over to the window. Pym joined her.
“That is a strange cloud,” the maid said.
“It’s not a cloud,” Yvenne told her, heart thumping. “It is the dust raised by tens upon tens of thousands of charging horses.”
With Maddek riding at their head, black paint on his brow, silver claws on his fingers. So beautiful he was.
And so savagely determined he looked, as if no time at all had passed between receiving her father’s message and this moment. As if driven by rage and grief.
As he had been in his very worst views of her.
“Oh,” Pym breathed, clapping her hands. “Surely they will kill us all.”
No. Maddek was not here for the maids, or her people. Only her father, and the Rugusian guards . . . and if he had believed the message Zhalen had sent, Yvenne.
She looked to the guard. “You should run.”
“And tell your father?”
“Or that, too. Tell him that death has come, as silver-fingered Rani does, but it is instead a silver-clawed Ran.” Whose gaze had fixed on this tower, though he could not see her from that distance. Chest tight, she watched him come.
Wondering if she dared to hope again.
CHAPTER 45
MADDEK
During every short rest they’d taken on the journey south, Tyzen had described Syssia’s defenses. All were strong, and the great shining wall stood even taller and thicker than Ephorn’s.
Yet the wall had been broken once, Maddek reminded himself grimly. The Destroyer had crashed his way through it. But although the pounding of hooves in the thundering horde behind Maddek seemed mighty enough to shake the wall down, still it stood. His gaze rose to the ramparts atop the wall, where a metal helm gleamed. Syssian soldiers. Both Yvenne and Tyzen had said that the Rugusians were centered in the citadel and the Syssians had been given orders to guard the outer walls. Maddek would have to go through them—but he had told his warriors not to harm the Syssian soldiers, if they could. For soon their nations would join under Yvenne and Maddek’s marriage, and he would not begin that union by killing her people.
Yet there would be fighting. Of that he had no doubt. Her father would lock the gates against the Parsatheans, Maddek would make demands and begin his siege—but there would be no reasoning with Zhalen, he knew. It would come down to bloodshed, and most of the crimson that ran would not be Zhalen’s.
And it looked as if Zhalen was about to make demands of his own. Ahead, the gates opened and two mounted soldiers galloped toward them.
To deliver another message? A piece of Yvenne at a time?
Bloodrage rising, Maddek raced to meet the soldiers, Enox and his Dragon at his sides.
“Ran Maddek!” the soldier shouted—and Maddek knew him. The soldier from the ambush, Jeppen. “Our queen says we are to give you any assistance you need! So you have a clear path through the city to the citadel!”
In astonishment, Maddek reined his mare to a halt in front of the soldier, and his mount snorted, prancing in eagerness to race again. “You are giving me a clear path?”
“Against Zhalen’s orders but at our queen’s command.” The soldier regarded him earnestly. “We have not the strength to take the citadel ourselves, or we would. But we will fight beside you!”
Was he to believe this? Or would he ride through the gates into a trap? Maddek glanced at Enox, who shared his suspicion, and at Kelir, who appeared bemused.
“Your bride has a habit of unseating us during our ambushes,” Kelir said dryly. “We come to perform legendary feats, and she opens the gates.”
It was his bride who would be the legend, Maddek thought. In the ages to come, he would rate but a mere mention in the songs they sang of his warrior-queen.
And did he believe Yvenne could inspire her people to defy their regent like this?
He did. For the Syssians were prepared to love their queen before they’d even met her. Before he’d met Yvenne, Maddek had been prepared to kill her—and now there was nothing Maddek would not do for his bride.
They would do no less.
“All gates?” Maddek asked.
Jeppen nodded.
“Enox,” he said to her. “Split our warriors into the directions of the wind. I will take the north. Send your captains to the east and west, and lead the remaining warriors to the southern gate. We will come at the citadel from all sides. Let them know that soldiers who bear the Syssian sigil are our allies.”
With a sharp nod, she galloped back to the waiting riders. Maddek gave a signal for the north to follow, and brought Tyzen up to ride beside him, now that they would not be fighting their way through the city. He would not have put the boy at the forefront of a battle.
Instead they seemed at the forefront of a parade as they rode through the gates. A surge of Syssian soldiers came at them from the sides—wielding few weapons, riding fewer horses—and joined their number instead of fighting. The wide avenue leading to the citadel at the center of the city had been cleared, as Jeppen promised, but only of carts and carriages. Syssians lined the street, cries of encouragement spurring them forward, tears streaming down cheeks. And as the soldiers had, many of them joined the riders in their march to the citadel.
When the first Rugusian guards appeared—a pair of mounted soldiers who appeared into the avenue ahead—no chance did Maddek even have to draw his sword. A mob of Syssians rushed in, wielding sticks and pots and cursing as they pulled the screaming guards from their saddles.
A large square stood before the citadel gates—and was already full of Syssians as they reached it, wielding weapons of whatever they could carry. Making use of what they had, as warriors did.
And these would be Maddek’s people, too. Such pride he had in them already.
Cheers rose as Maddek appeared, and they made a path for him and his riders, squeezing close together on either side of the square. Yet so many the crowd numbered, there was hardly room for Maddek and his warriors to ride two abreast.