Free The Gray Wolf Throne by Cinda Williams Chima Page A

More exposed areas were scoured clean, with the wind still teasing the snow free and spinning it off into the darkness. Although it was still dark and very cold, the coming day promised to be a fair one.

    “Good morning, your Highness.” raisa spun around. it was Byrne, leading their horses, both already saddled. Switcher was fighting the bit, ears laid back, disapproving the early start. “we can hope our assailants are sleeping in, but i think it wise to travel as far as we can under cover of darkness.”

    raisa nodded. She stroked the mare’s neck, making soothing noises, examining the gash in the beast’s shoulder. Byrne was right: it looked superficial. Strapping her bedroll and saddlebags behind her saddle, she swung up onto Switcher’s back, every muscle screaming a protest.

    it was slow going. This climb to the pass would have been difficult in good weather with fresh mounts. The footing was treacherous, with hazards and obstacles concealed by the drifts. At times they waded through snow that reached the horses’ chests.
    where space permitted, they left the trail and walked under the trees to either side. The snow wasn’t as deep in the forest, and they would be less visible to anyone who might be watching from a distance. But once the sun spilled over the eastern escarpment, raisa felt terribly exposed: a dark insect climbing a white wall of snow.

    At least they had a clear view of their back trail. raisa couldn’t help looking over her shoulder, expecting at any moment to see 66

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    a crowd of riders coming fast. But she and Byrne climbed all morning with no sign of pursuit, and raisa relaxed fractionally. if they could reach Marisa pines Camp, the clans could provide an escort the rest of the way.

    They took their midday meal in the saddle, dismounting only to walk beside the horses where it was steepest, to rest them a bit.
    The sun shone down from a brilliant blue sky, kindling the ice that coated rock and pine branches. when they were still several miles below the notch, Byrne turned aside into a copse of trees.

raisa followed automatically, reining in when he did.

    “Here’s where it gets dangerous,” he said.

    “what do you mean?” raisa looked about, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the gloom under the pines. Here and there, glittering shafts of sunlight penetrated all the way to the ground.
    Switcher dropped her head and nibbled hopefully at the pine branches within reach.

    “There are many ways to get to the pass, but only one way through. And no cover for the last couple of miles, since we’ll be above the treeline.”

    Branches stirred above their heads, and snow sifted down.
    raisa raked it out of her collar. “They can’t possibly have caught up with us, could they?” would anyone who was not fleeing for his life have braved the storm so long, or pressed on before daybreak?

    “Anything’s possible.”

    raisa waited, and when Byrne did not speak, she said, impatiently, “well, if they’re coming, it doesn’t do us any good to wait for them here, does it?”

    He grinned. “A fair hit, your Highness. And well deserved.” 67

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    He paused, as if debating whether to go on. He stroked the gelding’s neck, murmuring soft endearments, then said to raisa,
    “you’re different from Queen Marianna, if i may say so.”

    “So i’ve been told,” raisa replied dryly. “Usually in the midst of a scolding.”

    “Meaning no disrespect to your mother, i think it’s a good thing.”

    raisa flinched in surprise. This was most unexpected, coming from a man who was clearly devoted to Marianna. “what do you mean?”

    Byrne cleared his throat. “i told you she was frail and beautiful, like maiden’s kiss. you’re more like juniper. you seem to thrive in the worst weather, and i’d guess you’d be impossible to uproot once you’ve set yourself.”

    “you’re saying i’m tough, prickly, and stubborn.” She’d heard