The Triumphant by Lesley Livingston

Author:Lesley Livingston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2019-02-11T16:00:00+00:00

XIV

WE WERE MORE than half a day out from Tarquinii without any further trouble and only fifteen or so miles away from Cosa when Charon, driving the lead wagon, called a brief halt before we reached our destination. I kept glancing at him surreptitiously as we stopped and dismounted to ease our cramped muscles and water the horses. He was a bit on the pale side, but his features weren’t drawn in pain, and—more to the point—Sorcha didn’t seem to think there was anything amiss. And she’d been sitting up beside him on the driver’s bench the whole time we’d been on the move.

I breathed a sigh of relief that, in light of the conversation—not to say argument—Cai and I’d had in the night that I wouldn’t have another guilty bruise to add to my tender conscience.

I wiped the sweat from my brow and nodded thanks to Acheron, dismounting as he came to take my horse over to picket with the others while we rested. There was a flat, scrubby patch of ground at the edge of the road and a little tumbling brook running through the field beyond. It was clearly a place that had been used as a way station by countless travelers before us and a good spot to check the horses’ hooves for any stones or bruising, as well as to feed and water them. A cluster of elm trees offered a welcome bit of shelter—a windbreak for Cleopatra to rest out of the reach of an incessant chill breeze that had dogged our journey all morning and into the afternoon. But the queen refused to take her ease until she’d helped Damya and Gratia set out a small feast of meat and cheese and bread from the Achillea larders for everyone to refresh themselves. I shook my head in wonder as Sorcha came to stand beside me.

“Look at her,” I said, nodding my chin in the queen’s direction.

“Still fresh as a lily.” Sorcha grinned wryly. “I know.”

“How does she do that?”

Sorcha shrugged. “She’s a daughter of the gods. How else?”

I shook my head in wonder, gazing around at the rest of our company, who were uniformly road-dusty and bedraggled . . . and, unfortunately, destined to stay that way.

“Sorcha . . .”

She turned sharply at the tone of my voice.

I lifted an arm and pointed wordlessly in the direction we’d just come from. At the cluster of black dots on the horizon to the south of us. Moving fast.

“Pack everything back up,” she said.

I didn’t even need the warning the Morrigan whispered in my ear. I knew what was coming. Sorcha knew too. Without another word, we both took off sprinting, Sorcha toward Cleopatra and me toward Antonia and Neferet, who’d flopped down on the ground not far from me, resting tired backs and legs.

“We have to go,” I said, reaching down to pull Neferet to her feet. “Now.”

Antonia frowned up at me, and I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “Riders approaching,” I said. “Fast.

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