She stood. “You,” she barked at one of the bigger men. “Get her on her horse and let’s move. I need to get her to a shaman or witch. Now.”

Fed up, the leader of the team stepped forward and pointed his finger at her. “You don’t seem to under—”

Keita grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head to the side and forcing him to bend at the waist.

“You do what I tell you,” she growled, “or I will kill all of you!”

* * *

Batu the Iron Hearted relaxed in his tent, surrounded by his pillows and concubines, while a musician played songs to keep him calm.

As leader of the Dark Mountain Tribes, he would always get the best of what his people had. But as the ruler of the strongest and most brutal tribes on the Steppes, a leader not afraid to take that which the Empress believed belonged to her, he could really enjoy his time in this world.

This evening, he was planning a good night, knowing he had some new concubines to break in.

So the last thing he wanted to deal with was one of his men running into his tent and babbling about some royal they’d found in the Hidden Woods, near their tribal lands.

“What are you going on about?” Batu demanded.

“We have a royal and—”

“So? Put her in chains and I’ll go to see her tomorrow.”

“She’s demanding to see you now.”

Batu grabbed the soft hand rubbing his chest and pushed it away.

“She . . . what?” Slowly Batu stood, his entire body shaking in rage. “What?” he bellowed, his concubines scrambling to a far corner. The musician joined them.

“Great Leader,” the soldier groveled, dropping to his knees. “I only bring the message from the royal. She is—”

“Where is she?”

“With Bolormaa, Great Leader.”

Batu stormed across his tent, stepping on the soldier’s back as he did so. He went outside and walked toward Bolormaa’s tent, which was not far from his. She was the best shamaness in his tribe so he kept her close in case he needed her after a battle.

When he flipped the tent flap back, Bolormaa and her assistants were busy working on a large woman with black hair and the look of a Southlander from the west.

“Are you Batu?” a small, red-haired woman asked. She also looked like a Southlander . . . and acted like a royal.

“I—”

“Good,” she snapped, grabbing his arm and yanking him outside.

“Lady Keita,” she said by way of introduction. “That’s my cousin in there. She’s been poisoned and your shaman is helping me. Once I know she’s stable, I’ll be by to talk.”

“Uh—”

She was gone. Back into the tent.

Angry, Batu began to follow, but he stopped. Something about that female . . .

Deciding to be smart rather than angry, Batu motioned to one of the soldiers.

“Keep your eye on her and bring her to me when she’s done.”

He returned to his tent but sent the concubines and musician away. He then sent for Nergi the Knowing. If anyone would know who this royal was, it was Nergi.

* * *

Armed warriors were located behind them and in front of them. Some were human. Others were dragons in human form.

The general and his soldiers had been polite and friendly to Aidan and his brothers. But they did question the presence of the Riders. It wasn’t until Aidan convinced them that they were from the Outerplains and not associated with the Eastland Riders that the Empress’s soldiers backed off.

With great charm, the general offered the services of his army to escort them to the Empress as “favored guests.”

Aidan, of course, agreed for all of them, knowing that he didn’t want this army out searching for Brannie and Keita. They needed time to make it out. Wherever “out” might be.

It was really the best Aidan could do at the moment.

But Aidan was no fool.

Meihui might have sent them off with a smile, but she’d also brushed her hand against Aidan’s when he was walking away and he took it as the warning it was meant to be.

Because on the surface this all might appear normal. A royal caravan.

But they were actually pampered prisoners and all of them knew it.

As they moved through the countryside, Aidan did marvel at the surrounding lands. The Southlands near Garbhán Isle had always been his favorite, but the Empress’s territory rivaled his home.

Behind them loomed snow-capped mountains. The home of many dragons that refused to spend much time among humans.

The road they took led them through thick, multicolored forests. Trees of red, gold, and vibrant green. Along the way, they went through smaller forests with vast plains mixed in. And those plains had grass so green they seemed to be painted.

By the next morning, they reached massive gold gates connected to massive gold walls that surrounded the Empress’s palace and lands. They waited while the gates were pulled open, allowing their entourage to pass through and into the Empress’s true domain.

The first thing that greeted them were flowers. Rows and rows of all kinds of beautiful flowers in a variety of stunning colors.

The road that passed by these flowers was wide enough for a small army to come through without going near the Empress’s garden, and Aidan wasn’t exactly surprised. The dragoness clearly loved her flowers.

As they approached, Aidan could see the palace he’d heard so much about over the years. It, too, was made completely of gold and he could see Eastland dragons circling the top tiers of the palace, as well as open terraces where a large number of Eastland dragons were sitting around, chatting, and enjoying the morning suns.

“Now what?” Uther muttered next to him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Now that we’re here . . . what are we going to do?”

“Oh.” Aidan shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well,” Uther said, throwing up his hands, “this is just great!”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The screaming filled the castle walls, but Vateria didn’t mind. She knew it was leading to better, more important things.

Besides, the sound reminded her of the old days when her father ruled the Quintilian Provinces. She missed those days, when she had slaves and the complete run of her father’s home. But those days were gone and she was here . . . doing needlepoint.

It still galled her this was her life now, but not for much longer.

Soon, she’d rule more than just what her father had had. She’d rule more than what anyone had.

But first, a few things needed to happen.

Outside, in the territory surrounding her current home, the Abominations and their armies had built fortifications that prevented any of them from leaving and anyone from getting in.

They believed they were trapping Vateria and her people in this place and that they would launch one final attack.

A good plan . . . if Vateria was anyone else. But she had the backing of Chramnesind and even now, he was giving her a mighty weapon.

More screaming filled the entire castle and Vateria smiled, allowing the sound to wash over her while she continued her needlepoint.

“My lady?” a priestess interrupted, standing beside Vateria’s chair in the Main Hall. This one gazed at Vateria out of empty eye sockets. Her god had never asked Vateria to make such a sacrifice. Instead of taking from her, he’d continued to give and give and give, which only told her what she already knew. She was more important than any of these little witches who had to prove their loyalty. Vateria didn’t have to prove anything to Chramnesind. He already knew what she wanted and what she was willing to give to get it.

“What is it?” Vateria asked, still working. Much easier than looking into that scarred face.

“Things below are getting . . . complicated.”

“And?”

“We’re afraid he’ll die.”

Vateria snorted. “Our god will not allow him to die. Keep going.”

“But the pain—”

“Is not my concern. Nor yours. Keep going.”

“But—”