The night is brisk, my breath billowing out in front of me. Snow falls all around, landing in my hair and catching on my eyelashes. The flakes disappear as they hit the heavy, white fur cloak hanging around my shoulders.
Ki moves lazily underneath me, taking his time as he moves down the tree-lined road. He seems to be enjoying the quiet as much as I am. I bend down, laying along the top of his neck and wrapping my arms around it for a moment. My long dark hair falls across his white mane, the contrast not lost on me.
"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" Adair asks, appearing as if from nowhere. He smiles at me, dimples etching themselves into his cheeks. His green eyes look warm somehow, his blonde hair appearing to glow in the moonlight. His words remind me of the day he escorted me to the Mart.
"It is," I say, studying him. "How did we get here?" I look up and down the deserted road. Tracks from our horses stretch back as far as I can see, but before us the snow is fresh and unmarred.
"That's not important," he replies.
"Where are we going?" I run my hands over the royal cloak wrapped around me, the gold roping on the collar rubbing against my neck. "Why am I wearing Margret's cloak?"
"That's yours now," he says, his smile disappearing.
"Where are we going?" I ask again, pulling Ki to a halt. Something is running along the edge of my memory, something loud and violent. Something dangerous. The sky lights up for a moment in the distance.
"We aren't going anywhere. Not yet." He pulls his horse to a halt, stopping right beside me. Reaching out and touching my dark hair, he lets it spill through his fingers. "It's not your fault, you know."
"What's not my fault?" I ask, confused. He meets my eyes, holding every muscle in my body in place with nothing more than that look.
The sky lights up again and something draws my eyes from his face, down to his chest. A dark stain is bleeding through the white of his Formal uniform.
He takes his hand back.
"Are you hurt?" I reach out for him, my fingertips inches from his arm as he starts to sway. His face is pale, and he blinks slowly.
"The death," he says. "It's not your fault."
I start to scream for help as he falls off his horse, all the way down to the ground.
YOU ARE READING
The Ivory Rite
FantasyQueen Diem has a deadly secret-one that has already cost the lives of everyone she's ever loved. In a land long ruled by men, she must forge her own path as the first female ruler the kingdom of Domhan has seen in two centuries, a task that will be...
