The Sun Witch by Linda Winstead Jones

Author:Linda Winstead Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group

KANE LED THE horses while he studied the tracks. He was hours behind Sophie and the man who had taken her, and he hadn’t been able to track at all during the night hours. Hours in which they’d moved away from him.

For a long time, there had been only one pair of footprints. Bare, large footprints widely spaced from the edge of the pond toward the hills to the north. A light rain during the night had slowed him down, but it had not stopped him and it had not completely obliterated the tracks.

Sophie and the kidnapper had rested on a rock outcropping before moving on; there were two sets of footprints from that point on. He had found no sign of violence, but that did nothing to ease his mind. The tracks would have been impossible to follow to anyone who hadn’t spent more than two years scouting for the rebels.

A few weeks ago he hadn’t remembered Sophie as anything other than a dream, and he hadn’t known about Ariana at all. And now he felt like he would be worthless and useless without them. He’d lost everything else . . . he couldn’t lose them, too.

He glanced up at the cloudless sky. The rain had moved through quickly, last night. He and Sophie should be well on their way down the road to the capital city. Instead he was heading off into the wilderness . . . away from the palace and his daughter.

In the distance mountains loomed, blue and gray and hard. They seemed to climb forever—even from so far away. A man could hide for years in a place like that. A woman could be lost forever.

Throughout the day the ground had grown rockier, harder to track. The thought that he might lose the tracks altogether almost made him panic. If he completely lost the trail, what should he do? Continue his search into the mountains, or go to Arthes to rescue his daughter? Surely God wouldn’t make him choose.

Just when he was about to lose hope, he saw it: a spot of color where there should be none. He ran in that direction, smiling when he saw the scrap of fabric. When he’d last seen Sophie she’d been wearing a yellow blouse tucked into tan trousers. The torn fabric might’ve worried him, if it hadn’t been tied into a neat little bow.

He looked down, and there at his feet was a marking in the dirt. A furrow, perhaps made with the heel of a boot.

An arrow, drawn in the dirt. It pointed north.

“That’s my girl,” he said softly as he jumped into the saddle of his horse and followed.

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