CROSS SUIT (#2 COURT OF SUITS series)

♠ THIRTEEN ♠

The hilt of my sword slammed into my hip with every sway of my horse. My armor clanked and my shoulders weighed down by materials I disliked; but I'd never been prouder of my monarchy. Of how fast I'd assembled my men and convinced them to accompany me on one of the most dangerous tasks of their lives. Of my last-minute speech-making skills to encourage my crew of soldiers, to remind them that we were carrying out the right decision in launching this assault. And proud of the secret sword-fighting lessons I'd taken as a youth, as a teen; lessons that had prepared me for today.

For a brief instant, riding into battle didn't seem so daunting. Surrounded by knowledgeable guards who'd lay their lives on the line for me, I almost smiled. But underneath my facade of courage, my true emotions welled. My doubts, my fear. I didn't know for an absolute fact that these guards were trustworthy; and I didn't quite know what we were traveling towards.

None of my sisters had learned how to fight or defend themselves—including Luned—but today, I was glad they hadn't. I couldn't picture Tilda in war-gear; she'd wrinkle her nose and demand fur-lined armor instead and would prefer to flirt with the soldiers, not fight alongside them. And Astrida would have no room for her heavy skirts and mountains of diamonds on a horse. I wanted neither of them on their way to a deadly jungle to confront a deadly mage with me. They were safer at the castle, in case something happened to me and I needed them to fulfill their roles as my heirs.

My safety no longer mattered, not to me. If I had to step into peril to preserve my kingdom from my half-mermaid sister's plots, I would. And anyway, my six personal guards surrounded me, riding close. Three of them were skilled archers, their bows at the ready. The other three sported long-swords that rivaled mine, and I'd witnessed their prowess on the training fields. All six encircled me, prepared to thwart any attempt on my life.

I hope.

Ysac was farther to my left, in gleaming black armor, his wheat-colored locks tied into a bun, his helm resting between him and his clubber's mane.

Clubber—I snorted. He and Teodric had insisted on riding their favorite animals, as they'd be more comfortable. Comfortable. Who said going into battle was supposed to be comfortable? I'd mocked their choice without scruple. "Oh, how ferocious you both look atop your cows!" But neither took offense; they knew better than to respond to my taunting by now.

It surprised me that Teodric wanted to go with us. But Ysac had wished that he tag along. He wouldn't let his lover out of his sight—and didn't want him near Astrida's attractive claws. So Teodric was beside Ysac, slouched and unsure, but his used Efuran armor suited him well. He seemed to melt under his helmet, and he flinched whenever he sighted the sword we'd donated him, but I knew I could count on him, afraid or not.

Sir Sym and Lady Ossenna sat majestically atop their white steeds, both garbed in advisor-armor, as they called it. Sparkling gray shoulder pads over lengthy inky robes with layers of metallic protections underneath. They wore caps over their heads, made of pure steel but colored gold, and made impossible to penetrate by magical means. An electrifying energy emanated from them, as if capturing us all within an invisible barrier of security.

They were mad. Their expressions were neutral, but I saw the rage beneath their pretense. They'd lost the vote deciding if we'd move to Hartland now or wait. Ysac, Teodric, and my sisters had agreed with me on making haste. To everyone's shock, even Arden had eventually agreed. So despite their regal regalia and potent powers, my mages sulked.

Arden, unlike everyone else, overflowed with confidence. They had no doubt we'd succeed and were eager to start the journey. They perched atop their skeleton-esque black horse, called Bringer of Death.