Cursors's Fury

Isana felt her cheeks flush and her hand drifted to the silver chain around her throat, touching the ring that hung upon it beneath her clothing. Then she moved it down, to rest on the round, swollen tightness of her belly. “I’m hardly your lady,” she told him. “You owe me no fealty.”

For a moment, Araris’s eyes sparkled. “My lady,” he repeated, with gentle emphasis. “My lord’s duties press him. He bid me find you in his stead.”

Isana s back twinged again, and if that wasn’t enough, the baby stirred with his usual restless energy, as though he heard the sounds in the night and recognized them. “Araris, my sister…”

“Already here,” he said, his tone reassuring. The unremarkable-looking young man turned to beckon with one hand, and Isana s little sister hurried into the tent, covered in Araris’s own large grey traveling cloak.

Alia flew to Isana at once, and she hugged her little sister tightly. She was atiny thing who had taken after their mother, all sweetness and feminine curves, and her hair was the color of fresh honey. At sixteen, she was an aching temptation to many of the legionares and men among the camp followers, hut Isana had protected her as fiercely as she knew how. “Isana,” Alia panted, breathless. “What’s happening?”

Isana was nearly ten years her sister’s senior. Alias furycrafting talents, like Isana’s, ran to water, and she knew that the girl would hardly he able to remember her own name under the pressure of the emotions rising around them.

“Hush, and remember to slow your breathing,” she whispered to Alia, and looked up at Araris. “Rari?”

“The Marat are attacking the valley,” he replied, his voice calm and precise. “They’ve already breached the outpost at the far end and are marching this way. Horses are being brought for you. You and the other freemen of the camp are to retreat toward Riva at all speed.”

Isana drew in a breath. “Retreat? Are the Marat really so many? But why? How?”

“Don’t worry, my lady,” Araris said. “We’ve handled worse.”

But Isana could see it in the man’s eyes, hear it quavering in his voice. He was lying.

Araris expected to die.

“Where?” she asked him. “Where is he?”

Araris grimaced, and said, “The horses are ready, my lady. If you would come this w-”