A Promise of Storms (The Dragon Queen Book 3) by J.R. Rasmussen

Author:J.R. Rasmussen [Rasmussen, J.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

Mairid’s plan had worked so well that Griffin was forced to wonder, as they rode up the final rise toward home, whether their good fortune was really due to her plan at all. Perhaps it had a more sinister cause—such as someone else’s bad fortune.

They hadn’t seen a single red pigeon along the way. No cultists. Certainly no dragons.

At each inn in Aldarine, Griffin had made a point of putting on the Arun cloak and walking out a back door, or through the village, before doubling back to ride off in his fine carriage, a newly wedded Helderlander on his way to his wealthy bride’s home. But if he drew the attention of those looking for Arun, he never saw any evidence of it.

There’d been no need for their story, or any story, in Kaleth. There were plenty of ship’s captains squeezing in as much trade as possible before winter came, who were happy to take on a couple of passengers at the price Mairid was offering. Nobody asked any questions, and nobody stopped them.

Nor had anyone stopped them as they rode across Tarnarven, and then Eyrdon, on their newly purchased horses. (Mairid had immediately dubbed these Horfax and Lindel, whilst gushing over how glad Kendry would be to have friends.) It was possible the disguises she’d fashioned were simply that good. That nobody suspected them. That nobody was watching the roads they took. Or that they missed any spies flying overhead by sheer coincidence.

But it was equally possible that the reason the Red Cult and their dragon overlords had left Griffin and Mairid alone was that they were occupied elsewhere.

Which was why, when the roofs of Avadare at last came into view, Griffin’s chest tightened, and his throat nearly closed with fear.

Had any of their companions returned? Were they safe? Had the enemy attacked the magistery? Would he find the burned-out husks of cottages beneath those roofs?

He still had no idea. Twice along the way they’d found pigeons to carry vaguely worded and unsigned messages ahead to Pendralyn. They’d received no responses. But that didn’t mean anything. They were disguised, and constantly moving. They were meant to be hard to find. Rufus could have done it, perhaps, but no ordinary pigeon.

“Stop looking so glum.” Mairid flipped her blonde braid—part natural hair, part wig—over her shoulder. “You’re home.”

“So are you, it would seem,” Griffin said, mainly for the distraction of something to say. But perhaps it wasn’t the time to remind Mairid that she had no place else to go. Her face sank, until she looked as glum as he (apparently) did.

“We both know that isn’t true.” She leaned forward to stroke Lindel’s neck, as she’d taken to doing when troubled. Griffin wondered if she was aware of the new habit. “They won’t let me stay much longer. Why would they?”

If the queen were here, she would point out that you could stay if you were my wife.

As ridiculous a thought now as it had been back in Aldarine. The queen was not here, and Griffin had no need of a wife.

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