Sweet Beauty

Part Forty-One

I'm about to tell the women to remain quiet, to make no movement that might catch the cursed crow's attention, but I'm too late. Tinara sees the glowing talons and screams.

The crow drops towards us, falling like an arrow from the heavens. And on its tail comes a dozen more of its kind. Black wings blot out the sun.

"Guard the ladies!" Donarius screams at Beth, drawing his sword.

Beth wheels her horse's head around and grabs Winifred's reins. "Follow me!" she shouts, and all the ladies, even Tinara, gallop with her into the thicker trees, where bracken offers some protection from above.

I am about to join them when a crow sinks its talons into Donarius's shoulder. He screams. His sword is caught in the body of another bird, and he cannot get it free. I urge my horse towards him. My fingers find the riding crop attached to my saddle. Wind whips though my hair as it tumbles down from the elaborate style Tinara left it in that morning. I pull the crop free and strike the crow as hard as I can. It screeches and flies away.

Donarius looks at me, clasping a hand to the burn on his shoulder. "I can see why my brother chose you," he says, and lashes out with his sword, impaling a bird that had been swooping down behind me. "Now let's go!"

We ride into the cluster of trees where the ladies are sheltering. Beth stands before the group, her face pale but set, a bloody sword in hand. Two crows lie dead at her feet. "My wife?" gasps Donarius.

With those two words, her head dips downward. Pity wells up inside me. "Fine, my lord," she says, in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

He exhales, not noticing the effect his words had on her. "Thank you, Guardsman Grenville." Quickly, Donarius dismounts and runs to Winifred. They embrace, and I watch a tear bubble up in Beth's eye. This can't be easy for her.

Tinara grabs Beth's hand. "You'll protect us, won't you?"

Beth looks distinctly uncomfortable. "The thicket shelters us here."

Here. More wings are pounding above our heads. True, they're not heading here. I remember Azra's anger at the Handriell line. Where better to strike than at the family patriarch? This is an attack on the king—and I doubt she'll spare any young enchanter who might be in her way.

Fear grips my heart. Kyle. I won't let him die, not before I've begged his forgiveness. My harsh words from last night feel so foolish right now. "I need to find the king," I say, pointing my horse out of the thicket.

"Are you crazy?" Tinara shouts. "We're safe here!"

"The danger's too great." Donarius grabs my bridle.

I no longer care for Tinara's cowardice, or Donarius's lack of faith in my ability to defend myself. Nothing but Kyle matters to me now. I bring the crop down on Donarius's hand. He yelps and pulls away. I jam my heels into my mount's side and brace myself as the horse springs forward.

The train of hunters has scattered under the crows' onslaught, leaving a cloud of dust still hanging in the air where they stood only minutes ago. Some men are bravely fending off clusters of the birds, while others lie dead or dying in the dirt, moaning horribly. I ride past them all. I have no time to think or mourn. Kyle.

This will not be the way our friendship ends.

A flash of light shoots through the woods. A crow falls. "Kyle!" I shout. But as I draw close to the source of the magic, I realize it's only Master Crane, his fingers trembling as he prepares another spell, already exhausted.

"Where's Student Kyle?" I scream, my tone near hysterical.

"He rode ahead!" Crane yells, pointing up the road. "To protect the king!"

No. No. I grit my teeth and dig in my heels.

"Stop! You could die!" Crane shouts behind me. I don't listen. If Kyle can ride directly into death, than so can I. My world seems to contract down to a single point. I need to save him, need it more than I've ever needed anything, need it so badly it shocks me.

The crows grow in number as I rush forward, but I am not the focus of their attacks. One grabs at my hair, but I knock it away with the crop. Up ahead of me, they have drawn together in a tight little group, slicing at something with their wings. One moves aside, and I see a glowing dome underneath. The same spell Azra used to shield her evil workings is now, albeit in a smaller form, protecting Kyle.

A crow strikes downward, and the bubble bursts. Fire laces up from Kyle's hands, and a few crows scatter, but the rest seem undeterred. Kyle's eyes, brilliant blue in his pale face, lock on mine.

"Isamar!" he shouts, holding out his hand.