The Rage of Princes: A Portal Fantasy Adventure (The Chronicles of Otherwhere Book 2) by Cassia Meare

Author:Cassia Meare [Meare, Cassia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-30T22:00:00+00:00

23

Riding, riding, riding, riding.

Riding as fast as she could, as if that would allow her to escape her thoughts. Thoughts were fast, fast!

Sefira gave a thick-throated scream so the horse would go faster. She wanted to run away from the image of Ty lying there, his neck almost severed by her blade. She had thought it was Delian.

She wanted to run away from what she had done after that. Ty hadn't been dead; his wound would have closed. It would hurt, that was all. And that made her so angry, because the same would not happen for Thady.

Unfair, unfair!

Somehow, she was standing above Ty's body and driving her sword through his chest. Her mind kept saying: Delian will see now, what it's like. Everyone loved Ty, and Delian would know he was responsible. Forever and ever and ever.

Aya, you take everything away from me!

It wasn't her brother lying there; she couldn't even see his face. It was an open chest with a beating heart, and she took it, held it in her hand and shrieked at it too. Jeze scatyet! The heart went up in flames because she willed it so, and she kept her fist closed.

There was a box in her saddlebag, with kona. The box was a present from Thady. It was made of glass, and had the picture of her native city, Murt, on it. Murt was a small eastern port, and the box showed a lighthouse and ships, and beautiful turquoise sea.

It was a happy image, but Sefira never wanted to see the box again. And she didn't want the kona, so she threw it away.

She let the ashes run from her fist into the box and closed it. It was perfect, like a present she would leave by the body (not her brother's body, just a body) for Delian to find. He would open it, and the wind would carry the ashes.

You could still put together a heart, even if it were ashes. It would take a while, but it would come back. Not if it were scattered all over. There, where they were, the wind traveled a long distance in a short time. No spell could make the ashes stop or bring them back.

Thady, Thady, Thady, Sefira thought as she rode. The horse's hooves, however, said, Ty, Ty, Ty.

Again she shrieked, against the wind. What a place she was in ... She slowed down and looked around. She had come this way before. The Mirror, it was called. A stretch of sand running parallel to the sea but separated from it by a thicket of black trees. It was called the Mirror because even in the moonlight, even in light dimmer than now, the sand would reflect the sky. It was so packed and smooth, yet with a thin layer of water from a subterranean current, that it reflected her upside down. Sefira looked at her own face on the ground, peering from the horse.

The horse looked scared, and she looked scared. She screamed at herself.

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