Snow Like Ashes(64)

“Don’t you look battle ready?”

I don’t turn as Mather jogs up beside us. He’s outfitted in armor that matches Theron’s—everything from breastplates down to greaves, chain mail clinking under it all. He’s got just as many weapons too, a sword and knives and even an ax strapped to his back, and the bruise on his cheek is a flaming purple-red now.

Mather eyes me but I refuse to look at him. “You’ve never listened to William, have you? Not when we were children and not now.”

I don’t respond, even as I realize that Theron is on my left, Mather my right. Both of them are wound as tight as I get before I launch my chakram through the air, and shooting looks as sharp as knives at each other.

We’ll deal with that later. I just hope later isn’t after Bithai’s been ransacked by Spring and we’re scrounging through debris.

The closer we get to the main entrance to Bithai, the more hectic the crowds are. Soldiers run toward the gate while citizens run away from it, dragging carts or livestock laden with whatever valuables they can hold. Residents of Bithai’s outer villages, most likely, come to take shelter within the city’s stone walls.

“There’s a tower by the gate. My father will be there along with your general,” Theron says. He looks at Mather like he’s trying to decide what else to add.

Mather nods. “How many men do you have in the city?”

“Five thousand. Not nearly the bulk of our army, but enough.”

“Conduit?”

Theron cocks one corner of his mouth up, letting slip the smallest bit of pride. “My father may be known for pouring his conduit magic into agriculture, but he also gives much of his power to defense when needed. I think you’ll be pleased, King Mather.”

Theron’s smile does nothing to ease one out of Mather. He stares at Theron, through him, and nods. “I hope for Bithai’s sake that you’re right.”

The streets leading up to the front gate may have been busy, but the gate itself is chaotic. Citizens pour in from the land beyond, cattle bleat, babies wail. A few soldiers try to instill some sort of order, but the overall feel of the area is to get in as fast as possible, in any way possible.

The tower Theron mentioned looms on our left, spiraling high above the wall to give those within a view of the surrounding area. A few captains linger around the door and as we draw closer, the muffled shouting of their fearless leader makes even the air feel nervous.

Captain Dominick is one of the few by the door. His dark hair hangs in sweaty strands and when he turns to us, his tense face loosens almost imperceptibly.

“My prince, a messenger reported that Spring’s current speed puts them at our gate by late afternoon.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Theron says. He shoots a look at Mather, hard and daring. “Shall we?”

Finally, finally, Mather lets his mouth twitch in a small grin. “Your kingdom, you first.”

Theron tips his head and darts into the tower, his armor clanking as he twists up the spiral staircase. Mather starts to follow so I trot behind him, nearly smacking into him when he slams to a halt.

“You can’t come like that,” he snaps down at me.

My lip twitches in a snarl. I was prepared to hide somewhere in the tower to avoid Sir, but Mather owes me at least his silence, doesn’t he?

“If you send me to the palace I’ll just sneak out and you won’t know where I am or be able to keep track of me. Trust me, this option’s better for everyone.”

Mather cocks an eyebrow. “I know.”

“What?”

He sighs and waves over a running soldier. “Your helmet, please.”

The man pulls off his helmet. Mather takes it in one hand and wraps my braid in a knot at my neck to slide the helmet over my head. The visor is still up and I feel like I’m looking at him, hazy and distant, through a tunnel, memories overlapping this moment with all those times I sparred with him. All those practice fights when it was just us, two children pretending to be soldiers. Or two soldiers pretending to be children.

“Don’t speak,” Mather says. “Don’t draw any attention to yourself. If William realizes it’s you, you’re on your own.”

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

That makes him pause, one hand on each side of the helmet. I think maybe he wants to say something else, but he just drops the visor down with his thumbs.

“When it starts, stay near me or so help me, Meira, I will march you back into Bithai myself.”

I nod, the hollow core of the helmet clanking back and forth. It smells like sweat and old iron in here. Iron that was probably mined out of the Klaryns, that makes me feel ever so slightly more at home.