ONE
THE EFFORT NOT to breathe was unbearable as he fought to swim toward the surface. The water engulfed him, almost blinding. His energy slowly ebbed away as the movements became more difficult. He shook, his legs beating against the vicious current struggling to pull him back, to suck him down into her frigid blackness. One more second, and he would be free. If he could just break through the darkness...
Quinn’s eyes shot open, but he couldn’t move. His lungs struggling for air as he lay waiting for the sensation to fade. The dreams were always paralyzing no matter how many times they played within his subconscious.
After a moment, a groan escaped his lips and the thin pile of old quilts slipped to the floor as he sat upright. Sparrows chirped outside the shuttered window.
Voices sounded from the hallway.
With another groan, he wiped a hand over the layer of scruff covering his jaw and yawned. He leaned against the wall, wood cold against his back as he stretched his arms above his head, his eyes shifting toward the door when it opened.
Jenson poked his head into the room, dark eyes playful. “So,” he said, slipping through the door. “He’s awake after all. I thought I heard you grumbling to yourself.”
Quinn swung long legs over the edge of the bed, rolling his eyes as he strode toward the wash basin near the window. Splashing icy water into his face, he removed one of several daggers from a belt draped over the chair before him, the blade cool against his cheek as it scraped along the dark stubble coating his jawline.
Jenson huffed out a breath, running a hand through onyx hair. “Oh, come on, smile. I’m teasing.”
The sharp steel froze mid-shave as Quinn replied without turning to his friend. “Isn’t that all you ever do?”
A chuckle. “Usually.” Jenson straightened his tunic, the leather overvest creaking from the movement. “But I shouldn’t jest today. The Waeshorn Princess rides in her name-day procession this morning.”
“I know.” Quinn’s voice was flat as he fiddled with the aquamarine pendant against his chest, shifting his blade to the other cheek. “You let me sleep.”
Jenson shrugged, leaning against the dresser beside the door. “You needed it. You’ve been exhausting yourself in Fallon’s absence.”
Quinn frowned. “So maybe I have.”
“Quinn.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Jens.”
“You always do that, single yourself out. You don’t have to do everything alone. Maya and I are here to—”
“Fallon is returning from The Redlands today. I can’t afford to spend all morning resting. Every one of us knows that he expects the princess to remain unharmed without him here.”
Sighing, Jenson pursed his lips. “It’s hard to forget how he is about details.” His pleasant tenor voice sounded almost bitter. “But details are vital. The Order of Kynire’s existence is built to protect Navarre.”
“It’s more than that. Without the assurance of Princess Joseline’s safety, there would be no stopping Aeron’s return.” Finished shaving, Quinn sheathed the dagger, then pulled the dark gray cotton tunic over broad shoulders and adjusted the dagger belt around his hips. The leather vest, fitted to his broad shoulders perfectly, pulled taut when he secured the laces at his chest.
“I don’t even want to think about that alternative. If Aeron rose again, the city would be in chaos.” Jenson shuddered.
Quinn’s expression was stone as he fastened on two thick leather wrist guards, testing the dagger hidden against his left forearm. “Never mind the city, Jenson. The realm would be in chaos.”
Maya’s voice echoed from the door. “Well then, we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen, won’t we, gentlemen?”
Both men turned to where she leaned against the frame, honey blonde hair bobbing against her chin. Her green eyes were piercing as she smiled, the slight gap between her front teeth barely noticeable. “You two weren’t planning to chatter away up here like old hags all day, were you? There’s work to be done.”
Jenson’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening. “Work to be done? You don’t say, Maya.”
Quinn rolled his eyes, lips tightening into a firm line. “I am aware.”
Within seconds she was behind him, eyes playful as she smiled sweetly, a dagger pressed against his throat despite the height difference between them.
“I know you are, dearest Quinn,” she whispered. “But if you forget, well, you won’t be here to explain the tale of your disobedience. Besides, I’m not the one who was snoring loud enough for The Twelve and all their enemies to hear.”
Jenson snorted, muttering, “I thought Quinn was in charge during Fallon’s absence.”
“So did I,” Quinn growled.
Maya stepped away, sheathing the dagger at her thigh. “He is in charge. I’m just making it clear there are things we will not fail at this morning, that’s all.”
Quinn huffed out a breath, running his fingers through his hair. “Gods, Maya, when did you get so demanding?”
Maya shrugged. “Someone has to be, right?” Before he could respond, she winked and left the room, swaying narrow hips.
Quinn shook his head, reaching for the thick wool cloak draped over the chair. “Is it brisk this morning, Jens?”
“I’m not sure, why do you ask?”
Quinn checked to make sure his window was locked as his friend spoke, sealing the shutters using a magic enchantment, his power tingling his flesh as it ebbed from his palms. “Just wondering if I should add a layer,” he said, pausing to slip on worn leather boots before the two men stepped into the hallway.
“I knew you two would come out sooner or later,” Maya said from further down the narrow hall. Quinn glared at her.
“Maya,” Jenson said. “It’s been two blasted minutes.”
“Besides, did you really think we were going to let you take all the credit for this?” Quinn added. “What sort of brotherly figures would we be if we let the youngest have all the attention?”
Maya laughed. “The best kind, but I know you both better than that. This is the moment we’ve been—”
Trumpets sounded in the distance and Quinn took off down the hallway at a jog, Jenson and Maya at his heels. The hallway ended in a narrowed spiral staircase. Quinn jumped two steps at a time with catlike stealth and grace, his boots hardly touching the wood beneath his feet.
The staircase let out into a small living area—the only decorative items a single couch and a matching chair, a low, wooden table, and a worn, peach-colored rug crowded at its center. A kitchen wrapped around to the right near the door to the stables.
Jenson scanned the empty room. “The others are already out in the streets?”
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “They should be, or my orders were disobeyed.” He glanced around the room one final time before they put their hoods up and slipped into the alleyway, running into the gathering crowd.
Quinn kept his face blank while his companions dispersed amongst the peasants. The crowd lined the streets and alleyways, chattering with excitement and anticipation as they awaited the arrival of the royal procession.
Today was the name-day of the Rathal Princess, Her Royal Highness Joseline Marie Waeshorn. The young maiden who had never once in eighteen years shown her face to her city, whose life and safety encompassed the reason for The Order of Kynire’s existence, for his existence.