The Viin


    “This way. Watch the branches,” Trystan ordered as they squeezed their mounts through another tight cluster ofrge trees. The group of women behind him groaned their difort, and Trystan had to force his head forward to keep from turning around to check on Sage.


    Something had upset her. Something she would not confide in him. How many times had he wished her to share less? How many times had he found himself praying for her to cease her ramblings? Clearly whatever god had heard him decided lying in prayer was grounds for punishment. The punishment of giving him exactly what he’d asked for.


    Sage’s silence.


    She hadn’t spoken once in all the hours they’d spent on horseback. They didn’t need the fading magic to tell them that the kingdom was in grave danger—herck of babbling was signal enough.


    He warily tested the waters. “I’ve done a decent amount of business with Lord Fowler over the years. He’s the only noble I know who gets his kicks from defying the crown. And he has a hankering for collecting magical objects. He told me of a magical wand in his possession, invited me toe see it a few times. I denied him, of course. I don’t do social calls. Hopefully the offer still stands.”


    He waited for Sage to ask more, expected her to. But there were crickets behind him making noise—and no one else.


    “It’s getting dark,” re added, rolling her eyes at the two of them, riding closer to Trystan. “We should find somewhere to camp for the night.”


    “No. I said no stopping. It’s too dangerous. We must ride through,” Trystan ordered with as much authority as he could salvage.


    The first to defy him was naturally the fucking frog. Kingsley leaped out of his pack and atop the horse’s head. Trystan’s horse didn’t react, used to Kingsley’s light weight. Trystan soundlessly handed him a sign from his pocket, and Kingsley jotted down a word. A long one.


    Exhausted.


    “Who wouldn’t be exhausted after riding with the nkets all day? However will you go on, martyr?” Trystan barked at Kingsley, who rolled his gold eyes and jumped to join re. Her horse startled, whinnying, and raised up on her hind legs.


    “Whoa!” re said, urging the mare forward until her hooves met the ground once more.


    Tatianna had surged forward to grip the reins. “Are you all right?” Tatianna turned and red at him. “Could you keep your temper in check for more than five minutes?”


    “No, my cutoff is four,” he said dryly.


    Tatianna gave him a pointed look. “We’re all tired, Trystan. Let’s stop here. One of us can keep watch, and the others can sleep.”


    “I said we are not stopping until we get there. Not under any circumstances,” he said firmly, angling his head back to say the same to Sage. But she was hardly paying attention to them, too busy rubbing at her eyes and yawning into her hand, her entire face scrunching to amodate it. A fist clenched his small, shriveled heart, followed by a pang.


    She blinked slowly at him, as if her eyelids required effort to keep open. “Wha—” Another yawn cut off her speech.


    Fucking deands.


    “We’re stopping,” he ordered, dismounting his horse, and caught Sage about the waist before she fell over the edge of her saddle. She ced a hand against his shoulder, and it burned where she touched, causing an odd tingle in his bottom lip.


    “Are you sure?” Sage frowned, rubbing at her eye with her other hand. “You said we weren’t stopping under any circumstances.”


    Damn it. May as well start carrying a fucking shovel. It would make digging all these holes much easier.


    “You know me, Sage,” he said, gently easing her off the animal, attempting to keep her as far away from his body as humanly possible. His control was wearing too thin, and his pants were far too tight to take any unnecessary chances.


    Sage pulled away as soon as her feet touched the grass, taking his distance as disgust rather than essential. Good. Good. Let her think he didn’t want her.


    He’d been behind on his heinous-lie quota for the month; this ought to catch him up.


    “There’s a small clearing ahead. Seems as good a ce as any,” Tatianna said, guiding her mount toward the open space. The sun was beginning to set, and soon darkness would surround them. “How near are we to Phoenix Vige?”


    “Not far,” Trystan answered. “We’ll need to pass through after we get the wand. It’s directly on our path to the south road, and I’ve made arrangements to get us discreetly to the southern kingdom’s border.”


    “Isn’t that the vige with the giant bird guarding it?” re asked warily.


    “No, the name of the vige is just for flourish,” Trystan said sarcastically, ignoring his sister’s re. “I’ll get firewood.” Trystan handed his reins off to Sage, intending to have his un-viin-like panic behind one of the oaks. But he only made it two steps before a whoosh through the air had him spinning around to a small dart that had buried itself in his shoulder. He yanked it out and stared at it. The phoenix crest was a clear indicator of the owner…and a clear indicator he’d walked them all right into a trap.


    “Shit! It’s an ambush. Take cover!” He turned, trying to summon his magic, but his arms were going numb, and then his legs.


    Sage cried out and ran to him, her hands on his cheeks, her lovely voice breaking from screaming his name. “Sir. Sir, stay with me. Don’t leave me.”


    How silly. Why would he ever leave such a beautiful woman? ck spots danced across his vision, and his awareness wed its way back to the surface. “Sage, run. Tati! Take my sister and go.”


    “Help me get him up, Tati!” Sage yanked on him with a surprising amount of force, draping his arm about her small shoulders. “Come on. Gods, you’re heavy. Time to cut back on the push-ups, Evil Overlord,” she huffed, struggling to lift them both to their feet. Tatianna gripped his other arm, and the two of them half walked, half dragged him toward his horse, but another whoosh through the air stopped them. Trystan fell to his side and watched, helpless, as Tatianna fell, too, an identical dart sticking out of her neck.


    “Tatianna—” Trystan croaked as she fell unconscious.


    Torture. This was worse than torture.


    Footsteps rumbled on the ground below them, and a set of guards took hold of a screaming re. “No!” he yelled as one of them kneeled against his chest to pin him down. Their armor was familiar, but it wasn’t that of the Valiant Guard.


    “Get off him!” A dagger was shoved into the guard’s shoulder, and he toppled off Trystan. Sage stood over him, dagger dripping blood and her eyes wild with fear and something else he couldn’t decipher. “Sage, go—”


    “I’m not leaving you, so stop asking.”


    She was resolved and wouldn’t move from his side. He couldn’t even yell at her to go any longer; his voice had given out. A guard grabbed Sage by the cheeks and shoved a yellow flower into her mouth, forcing her to swallow. She looked the guard directly in the eye, then smirked.


    If his whole body wasn’t ovee by numbness, he had a horrible feeling he’d be rock hard in all the wrong ces…or all the right ones.


    Sage began to go limp in the man’s arms, and Trystan’s magic broke free of him so fast, the gray mist flooded the clearing.


    “What the fuck is that?” one of the guards questioned.


    No.


    They can see my power, too. What in the deands is going on?


    Despite his weakness, his magic worked to protect him, to protect them. Guards were dropping with a swipe of gray and then another. Their screams of terror were music to his ears.


    Nothing better than that sound.


    “Trystan!” Sage yelled.


    Almost nothing. Almost.


    It was thest word she spoke before her eyes shut and she slumped, just as his magic gave out, disappearing. Sage’s head fell back as the guard lifted her. Her limbs all drooped toward the ground, her curls cascading so low they almost brushed the grass.


    He wasn’t sure why, but that seemed to be what infuriated him the most.


    “You will rrrrreegret that,” he slurred, not sounding human, his arms giving out as he fell. Darkness slid over him, and he couldn’t tell if the sun had made its final descent or if he was passing out.


    When he started seeing dancing unicorns, he began to suspect he was losing consciousness. Or losing his mind.


    Later. Trystan would make them all regret thister, when he awoke.


    If he awoke.