Blackveil Page 121

“Excellent.” Laren was pleased, for it meant this batch of Riders was nearly ready for training runs. Several had gone on short-range errands with senior Riders already, but now longer runs were possible. The sooner this group was fully trained up, the sooner she’d have more people out and about the realm. It had been difficult to give up several of them to go to the wall, not to mention the three entering Blackveil. It had required some contortions in scheduling.

Among the group was a girl of the lower aristocracy, Sophina. Laren picked her out from her classmates. She was less relaxed than the others and wore a perpetual pout on her face. Mara said the girl had airs and actively sought ways to make everyone else miserable. She was not the first aristocrat called to the messenger service, nor would she be the last. Alton, as the heir to D’Yer Province, was of far higher standing than Sophina, but he’d never ever shown any resentment at being called. Sophina would adapt in time, learning that her status would have little bearing on her life as a Rider.

Laren smiled. It was the various temperaments of her Riders that made them such an interesting group. One’s strengths filled in for another’s weaknesses. They became stronger as a whole. She was, as ever, proud of them. Even her greenest of Greenies who had yet to prove themselves.

“So you have the afternoon off,” Elgin said. “What will you do with it?”

“Off? I would say that my day of meetings with the king were canceled, but I’ve reports awaiting me back at my quarters, not to mention a pony to acquire.”

“I think I could handle the pony for you,” Elgin said. “I know a—”

A scream cut through the afternoon peace like a scythe. Laren’s heart thudded as she looked for its source.

Elgin pointed. “Sophina!”

The girl rocked in her saddle and wailed, clutching her chest. Her horse spooked, and she toppled off its back to the ground.

“Five hells!” Laren ducked between the fence rails into the arena with Elgin right behind her. They charged across the dirt to where Sophina lay. Horsemaster Riggs and Ben closed with them. Laren knelt beside the girl who writhed on the ground, still clutching at her chest. Tears ran down her cheeks.

“Sophina?” Laren asked gently. “What’s wrong?”

“The king!” the girl cried. “The king!” And she fell unconscious.

Ben placed his hand on her forehead. “I can take care of her.”

“No.” Laren stood, blood surging through her like a swarm of bees. “Chief! You deal with Sophina. She’s come into her ability.” Elgin nodded, gathered the girl into his arms, and carried her away.

“But I can—” Ben started to protest.

Laren pointed at Merla, who was still seated atop her lesson horse. “You go to Connly or Mara, whomever you find first, and tell them there’s been an incident with the king. They’ll know what to do.”

There was a collective gasp among the Riders who had grouped around them.

“Move!” Laren bellowed.

Merla did not hesitate. She did not stop to open the arena gate. Instead she dug her heels into the flanks of her horse, galloped straight for the gate, and sailed over it. It was probably three times as high as anything Riggs had taught them to jump, but Merla and her horse landed smoothly on the other side and galloped off.

Laren pointed at Carson, older than many of the other new Riders. “Go to Master Destarion. Tell him to grab his kit and hurry down the Winding Way.” Without another word, Carson reined his horse around and headed for the gate. This time others had opened it so he didn’t have to jump it.

Next she picked out Kayd, a boy whose father was a laborer on the castle grounds and knew the castle layout well and how things worked within. “You will seek out Colin Dovekey and tell him there is an emergency. He is acting castellan and should be meeting with the kitchen staff about now.”

Kayd nodded and he and his horse pounded from the arena just as the others had.

Laren turned to Riggs. “You’ll take care of the rest of them?”

Riggs clapped her hands to gain the attention of her students and started shouting orders at them.

That left Ben, who did not seem to know which way to turn. “You are with me,” Laren said. “Robin! Come!”

The horse obeyed immediately and trotted right up to her.

Ben shrank away, but Laren caught his sleeve. “Something bad has happened to the king,” she said. “Sophina, it appears, is a seer. She saw something happen to the king. There is no time to lose.” She placed her toe into the stirrup and mounted. “Now get up behind me.”

When Ben dithered, she leaned down and stared hard at him. “Sophina passed out before she could tell us exactly what she saw, but if she had such a strong reaction to the vision, it can’t be good. Do you understand? The king has come to great harm and if he’s not dead yet, he may be soon unless you help him. Understand?”

Ben’s face paled. He nodded.

“Then mount.”

This time he did not hesitate and she pulled him up behind her. He circled his arms around her waist, clutching her for dear life.

“Loosen up,” she gasped. He complied and she clicked Robin into a gallop out of the arena and across castle grounds.

She rode bent for all five hells down the Winding Way using cut-throughs all the Riders knew, and she stampeded through front gardens pushing Robin mercilessly with two adults on his back, but he was game, fearless, even, his strides unflagging. A true messenger horse. She was sure her Bluebird would forgive her the necessity of grabbing the nearest mount available.

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