Kelley Armstrong - Sea of Shadows

As their horses’ hooves clopped along the empty street, a man staggered sleepily from a house. He turned at the sound, his gaze passing over the riders, then stopping as he gaped at the massive hound and wildcat. He went back inside as if deciding he needed more sleep.

“This is where I take my leave,” Ronan murmured, leaning toward Ashyn, not loud enough for Gavril and Moria.

“Already?”

He smiled. “You’re almost in the city, Ashyn.”

Ronan pulled his horse to a halt and slid from the saddle. Ashyn got down, too, to say good-bye. Moria and Gavril didn’t notice, caught up as they were in their conversation. Ashyn was about to call to them, but Ronan stopped her.

“They won’t get far before they notice,” he said as he handed her his reins. “I’ll leave you here, but if you have any troubles in there, any at all, contact me. All right?”

“And if…” She swallowed. “If I don’t have troubles, may I still contact you? Or would you rather—”

He stepped forward, his hand going to the back of her head, his mouth lowering to hers. And he kissed her. Not a long kiss, but not a light one either. His lips pressed firmly against hers for a moment, before he backed up.

“I would like it very much if you contacted me,” he said, his hand still behind her head. Another kiss, this one little more than a brushing of the lips, before he released her, murmured good-bye, and left her there, standing in the middle of the road, holding the reins of his horse.

Her sister and Gavril had not seen the kiss. They hadn’t realized that they’d left Ashyn behind until Ronan ran up alongside them for a quick farewell. Ashyn had still been standing like an idiot in the road, holding the horses. It was only when Gavril returned for her that she climbed back onto hers.

Gavril took the reins of Rona’s horse without a word— and without any suggestion that he would notice her condition even if she’d been swooning, flushed, and half-dressed on the roadside. He was not unkind. He simply paid her little heed at the best of times, and now, as they approached the city, seemed lost again in his thoughts.

Ronan had been right to leave when he did. Shortly after that, their tiny lane joined with the Imperial Way—the road heading to the city gates. That was where, as Moria said, things got interesting.

It was a massive road, big enough for six carts across, lined not with forest or even houses, but with walls, funneling traffic to the gates. So the wildcat and the hound had to remain at their sides, meaning there was no reason to hide Ashyn and Moria.

Gavril didn’t hide his identity either—if he appeared to have snuck into the city, it would smack of shame or treachery. So he removed his cloak, revealing his inked arms, and the girls took off their cloaks, and they rode onto the Imperial Way.

It was, as Moria joked, an effective method of dealing with the solid streams of people. They noticed the riders first. Two identical Northern girls with long, red-gold hair, riding side by side. Then they saw Gavril, riding slightly behind and between, his blade drawn, his inked arms bare. Finally, they noticed the beasts. That was usually the point at which they decided they were too close to the riders and stumbled out of the way.

And so, despite the crowd, Ashyn and Moria cut easily through to the gates, where there was a line of those wishing to enter the city. It was generally a quick process, Gavril had said. Travelers paused, ostensibly to state their business, but in truth so the guards could get a look at them. Exiles were marked by a brand on the side of their neck. As well, there were travelers from outside the empire who did not follow its laws and attempted to carry weapons into the city. And, of course, there were criminals whose faces the guards had been told to watch for, though considering that Ronan knew another way in, Ashyn suspected it was a rare and truly foolish criminal who attempted to use the front door. Ronan himself, fortunately, did not bear the exile’s brand—if a convict survived the Forest of the Dead, his exile was considered at an end, so no permanent mark was given.

As they approached the line, their magical crowd-clearing powers proved useful again. They’d stand behind someone who would look back, see the girls and the beasts, and wave them ahead. Sometimes they would be met with lowered eyes and a murmured, “Blessings to you, Seeker and Keeper.” Most just moved aside quickly.

As soon as they drew close enough for the guards atop the wall to see them, one hurried down and spoke to his comrades. Then the line truly did part before them, as two armed guards strode along and ordered everyone back.

Ashyn started to dismount, but Gavril murmured, “No,” and Moria seconded it with a nod. As the guards drew close, Ashyn could see why they stayed on their horses—because it meant they towered over the guards, putting them in a position of power.

Gavril moved his horse forward. “I bring the Keeper and the Seeker of Edgewood.” He didn’t shout, but his voice carried, and around them, a hush fell. “They bear a message for the emperor.”

The guards exchanged a look. Clearly this was not an occurrence for which they had been trained.

“We were not informed of this visit,” one said finally.

“Because that was not possible,” Gavril said. “We bring urgent tidings. Grave tidings.”

Another look between the guards.

“These are clearly the Keeper and the Seeker of Edge-wood,” Gavril said, his voice hardening. “No more ought need to be said. You will let them pass.”

The crowd behind the guards was parting again, this time for a gray-haired man, an inked warrior. Likely the commander of the gate.

“My apologies to the young Seeker and Keeper. This is unexpected and—” The old man stopped. His gaze went from Gavril’s face to his arms. Then his weathered face broke into a smile. “Gavril Kitsune. Welcome home.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Few would have been able to recognize the tattoos at a distance, and even those who had would likely presume it was only some distant relation of the former marshal.

Gavril discreetly waved for the girls to stay seated, but he dismounted and for a moment, Ashyn thought he meant to embrace the old warrior. Which proved, she reflected, that she didn’t know Gavril nearly well enough. He only dismounted and bowed.

“Commander Alain,” he said.

The commander clapped Gavril on the back as he straightened. “It is good to see you, son.”

“I would say the same, sir, were it under other circumstances. As I was telling the guards, I’m escorting the Keeper and the Seeker of Edgewood with a message for the emperor, along with ill news.”

He lowered his voice, and Ashyn knew he was telling the commander about Edgewood. The other guards moved closer to eavesdrop, but Ashyn could tell from their expressions that they heard none of it.

As Gavril finished, Commander Alain’s face paled and his gaze shot to the girls. “My sincerest condolences,” he said, with a deep bow. “The imperial city welcomes you. My men will escort you to the court.”

Gavril murmured something, again too low for anyone to hear.

“Yes, of course,” the commander said. “Understandable.” The old man clapped Gavril’s back again. “It is good to see you, Gavril. Welcome home.”

A buzz ran through the crowd, and Ashyn realized this was more than an old warrior welcoming a young one. There was a subtext to the words and the effusive greeting. A dangerous subtext, given the crowd’s whispers and murmurs. In welcoming the son of the disgraced former marshal, the commander was making a very public statement.

Ashyn knew that when the emperor exiled Marshal Kitsune, his family was permitted to keep their rank and live in the city, and were accorded all due respect in the court in acknowledgment of the marshal’s long service. It had seemed simple enough. Yet given Gavril’s concerns about appearing to sneak into the city—and now the commander’s reception and the bystanders’ reactions—Ashyn could tell it was not simple at all.