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Chapter Seven

Althea glanced up at the moonless sky, the enormous walls of the city of Nirole billowing upward to the stars from the ground on which they stood. They were behind schedule, and the lack of moonlight was going to be an issue now. Althea's left thigh bore several serious lacerations from the gryphon attack earlier that night, and though Hazel had quickly stopped the bleeding and managed to suture them, the muscles no longer seemed to want to work quite right. As a result, it had taken them nearly an hour to scale the outermost wall and climb back down the other side, and now they were faced with a narrow moat before the next set of walls. Under the surface of the water, serpents gathered, their silent forms swimming lazily along beside the pair as they search for the safest place to attempt a crossing. Although they were small, the movement of the snakes made her shudder—the thought of being constricted by the chimera's serpent tail was still fresh in her mind.

"There, a loose stone."

Hazel's whisper broke through the sounds of the moving water in the moat. Althea followed her pointing finger and saw the stone—just barely visible in the darkness—and clapped her second on the shoulder in thanks.

"That'll do it. Let's hope we can be faster than these snakes."

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"The chain maille, Gulliver."

Reema directed the red bear's attention to another wardrobe in the corridor where they and several other of the queen's officers were suiting up.

"My queen...?" the bear inquired with a tilt of his head.

"You are not sufficiently protected, Gulliver. You will wear the chain maille. This princess has already proven herself against our best. We cannot underestimate her."

"We are not yet certain if it is the princess who has come, my queen."

"You will wear the chain maille regardless."

"Of course, Your Highness."

"And...Gulliver?"

The bear studied her, seeming apprehensive.

"Do not mistake my concern for license to question me again. My patience with you is thinning."

"I am...sorry...my queen," the bear fumbled, hanging his head.

Behind Reema, a massive emerald stag hooked the chain maille on his antlers and tossed it to the floor before the bear. Reema saw the disdain in his eyes for his compatriot, and she almost smirked.

"You are costing us precious time, Gulliver," said the stag, snorting and stomping one cloven hoof.

The bear said nothing more, simply slipping into the maille and then continuing to cover his body in the spotless black armor of Nirole.

Reema stepped before the mirror at the end of the corridor to examine herself. A smile broke her features as she slipped the decorated helmet over her head and face. The hilts of the swords poked above each shoulder, and she pivoted this way and that in the mirror, admiring the effect the torchlight had on the iridescent armor. The armor itself was a formality for Reema—not a soul had successfully touched her in battle since before she'd retaken Nirole—but she was not a fool. To enter into a battle with an enemy of unknown skills without armor was foolish, indeed. Her magic had never failed her, but it was not wise to assume it never would. And, given the nightmare, there was no guarantee the Wryn were not at work here. The queen had no desire to be caught any more off-guard than she already had been.

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"Dear gods, there's guards everywhere!" Hazel cried in a loud whisper once they had successfully reached the ground on the other side of the wall. Althea felt her second's hand clasp her shoulder armor and tug her back into the shadows of the wall as a line of several ironclad soldiers moved between two openings before them and then disappeared to another section of the city. "I've never seen this kind of armada. Not in the middle of the night!"