Free The Hidden Icon by Jillian Kuhlmann Page A

wind made of lightning and stone, the waves of a merciless ocean; I was a fire that tore down from the sky and laid everything to waste. When I woke I swore that I could feel the charred soil on my feet and my hands, as though I walked in the dread places I dreamed, but my body and blankets were damp only with sweat.
    Gannet told me that we would travel by sea, by way of Cascar. The city-state was another conquest, and I couldn’t help but think of how different my life would have been were it not for the war: I would have met these sea-dwelling folk, would have facilitated exchanges of material and culture if we had been at peace. But I couldn’t remember peace. It would take us longer to travel by sea to the north, but Gannet had assured me the shorter road through the mountains was treacherous. I hadn’t fought him, but after Re’Kether, there wasn’t anything that could frighten me more than what I feared I harbored within.
    “You are lucky to be alive.”
    Imke startled me, coming upon me as I sat in the shade of the barge while the animals were rested. If Morainn had sent her to spy on me, or if Imke had intentions of her own, I didn’t know. I certainly didn’t need an additional guard. The three I had grown used to were always nearby.
    “I am,” I said, curling patience under my tongue like the pit of a sweet fruit, sure that she would make some point and leave me be. Since the man had died in Re’Kether, Imke had been colder towards me, warier even than before. I assumed they had been friends, or lovers. Though I blamed myself for his death, it didn’t make me feel any better to have Imke blame me, too.
    My words obviously did not satisfy her, for Imke’s gaze narrowed.
    “Why did you go into the ruins that night?” she hissed, her voice the tell-tale rattle of an adder. She next took on an uncharacteristic harshness, even for her. “You can’t have hoped to have escaped. Only death will give you your freedom now.”
    My own fears having frayed my nerves to shreds, I imagined Imke responsible for some of the ill that had befallen me, the scorpion, the night in the ruins. But Imke was sworn to Morainn’s service, and she wasn’t a fool. But I was, confusing dislike with an intent to harm.
    Still.
    “If you’re going to threaten me, perhaps you could use your little knife. I am not afraid of words.”
    Imke’s cheeks flared, though just as she seemed ready to rebuke me she cooled again. One of the soldiers walked past, and it was enough to send Imke scurrying back onto the barge. I followed once I was sure I wouldn’t run into her. I might not have been afraid of Imke’s words, but I was in no hurry to receive any more of them.
    I was surprised to find Gannet at the entrance to my chamber, alarm rising briefly in wonder whether he were coming or going. But he’d been waiting for me. He gestured that I move within, holding aside the thin curtain, and I did so with a question on my face.
    Once within, Gannet strode several paces across the room and back. I watched him, wondering if perhaps some stranger malady had followed us from Re’Kether than what we suffered here. Had everyone gone mad?
    “Antares told me about the attempt on your life,” he said in hushed tones. Given how dire circumstances had become, I had to consider a moment which attempt he meant.
    “The scorpion? He told me it had likely come aboard from the fruit stores,” I explained. I knew that had been a lie at the time and repeated it only because I didn’t have the patience for Gannet’s conversation, not now. The few sentences I had traded with Imke had exhausted my reserves.
    Gannet’s expression suggested that he knew exactly what Antares had meant when he had said that and that I knew, too, and I would do better not to play games with him. I held my hands out as though I had better answers for him in my palms.
    “I’ve seen him near here at night, and others. I am as well guarded as any prisoner could hope to