Ravenfell (Wytch Kings Book 6) by Jaye McKenna

Author:Jaye McKenna [McKenna, Jaye]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mythe Weaver Press
Published: 2019-08-04T22:00:00+00:00

* * *

Bradin drifted in and out of a warm, comfortable drug haze for a long time before sharp stabbing pains pierced through the fog and dragged him to the surface. He found himself lying in a bedroll near a fire pit, a heated argument raging on the other side of the fire.

The flickering firelight revealed rough stone walls and ceiling. A cave, then, which he hoped meant they’d evaded any pursuit. He’d been stunned when Harghan’s guard captain had come to release him. The man had brought warm clothing, given Bradin blackseed to ease the pain of the beating he’d endured earlier, then hustled him out of the cell and into a dark network of tunnels.

Things got fuzzy after that. He remembered being helped up onto a pony, followed by a long ride through a snowstorm, during which he struggled to stay upright in the saddle.

He didn’t remember getting down off the pony or entering the cavern. Nor did he recall lying down to sleep.

“…telling you again, Your Highness, that time is of the essence. At least one of us has to make it to Ravenfell before the ceremony, and he is in no fit state for a cross-country trek, mounted or not.” Bradin recognized the voice of the man who’d helped him up onto the pony and spoken quiet words of encouragement to him when they’d stopped to rest.

“He’s in no fit state to be left alone, either.” That was Joss’s voice. His frustration reached Bradin quite clearly, though he sensed nothing from the other man.

“No, he is not. And with that mythe-bond, there’s no telling how far you’d be able to go before you both collapsed. If we got two days out and then I had to escort you back here, I wouldn’t make it to Ravenfell in time. I’m sorry, Your Highness. There’s no two ways about it. If the Northern Alliance is to be warned in time, I must go alone.”

“Warned of what?” Bradin croaked.

The sound of his voice brought Joss hurrying around the fire to kneel at his side. Light brown eyes studied him intently for a few moments before Joss said, “I don’t need to ask how you’re feeling.”

“No, I imagine not.” Bradin grimaced. “Sorry.”

The other man appeared with a water skin, and Bradin couldn’t help but stare at him. His resemblance to Prince Shaine of Rhiva was uncanny. He had the same fiery red hair and the same pale green eyes. Had Shaine ever mentioned relatives in Ysdrach? Bradin couldn’t recall.

Joss introduced the man as Turan, Ravenfell’s weapon master. Between the two of them, they helped Bradin sit up, though it was a painful operation for both Bradin and Joss, who shared every twinge of discomfort. Bradin drank deeply from the offered water skin, after which Turan asked, “Do you want some more blackseed, Your Highness?”

“Ai, please.” Bradin gave the man a grateful nod. “I’ll take a bit, if you’ve enough to spare.” When Turan had gone back across the fire to

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