The King Is A Woman

Six Riders, No More

Amara stared at the words.

**BRING THE KING.**

Three words that had reduced her mother's life to a bargaining chip. For a moment she could not move at all. Then Kael's voice cut through the fog.

"How long ago was she taken?"

The wounded soldier swallowed painfully. "Minutes. Maybe twenty."

"Who took her?"

"Six men, I think. There was smoke everywhere, guards fighting the fire — I saw six men leaving through the eastern passage."

"Which direction?"

"The old eastern road."

Kael was already moving. "Seal the palace."

Amara grabbed his arm. "No."

He turned on her. "My mother is out there," she said.

"Exactly. If we seal the palace now, whoever took her will know we've discovered the abduction."

"They already know."

Kael's expression hardened. "Then we give them what they asked for."

"They asked for the king."

"They want you dead."

"They have my mother."

"They may have her because they knew you would come after her."

Amara stepped closer. "Then I'll come."

"You're not going."

"I am."

"You don't even know where they're taking her."

"I know enough." Kael lowered his voice. "They know your weakness." Her eyes flashed. "My mother is not my weakness."

"She is the reason you're about to walk into a trap."

"She is the reason I have to."

For several seconds, neither of them moved. Then Amara pulled the pendant from her pocket, the silver catching the torchlight. Kael's eyes dropped to it.

"You kept it."

"Because you gave it to me, the night before the attack. I still don't fully understand why."

"I only knew I was meant to keep it safe until you wanted it back."

"And now I'm taking it with me." She tucked it away. "Because I trust you enough to let you know I still have it."

Kael went silent at that. Amara turned away before he could answer. "Prepare six horses."

"Six?"

"Six riders. No more."

"Why?"

"Because whoever took my mother expects an army."

Kael studied her. "And you want them to think we brought one?"

"No." She looked at him. "I want them to think we came exactly as ordered."

His mouth tightened. "You're planning something."

"I am the king."

"You're not answering the question."

She stepped closer. "Neither are you." For a moment, something almost like amusement crossed his face before it vanished again. "Six riders," he said. "My most trusted men."

"No royal guards."

"Why?"

"Because we don't know who is loyal."

Kael stared at her for a long moment. "You're beginning to think like a commander."

"No." Her eyes hardened. "I'm beginning to think like someone who is about to loose one member of her family."

That silenced him.

Twenty minutes later, the palace courtyard was almost empty. Six horses stood beneath the gates — Kael had chosen four soldiers personally, and two others waited near the stables. Amara wore Adrian's black riding coat, a sword at her side and a dark cloak over her shoulders.

Kael approached. "You're not wearing an armor my King."

"I need to move quickly."

"You need protection."

"I can protect myself."

"I know." He held out a pair of leather gloves. "Take these."

She frowned. "I have gloves."

"These are reinforced."

She took them, and their fingers brushed for a moment too long before either pulled away. Then his gaze shifted to her face.

"You're afraid."

Amara stiffened immediately. "I am not."

"You are."

"Of course I'm afraid," she admitted, and the words surprised even her. She looked toward the palace. "My mother is somewhere out there with the people who tried to kill me."

Kael's expression softened. "Then don't pretend you're not."

"Why?"

"Because fear keeps you alive."

"And what keeps you alive?"

He paused. "Anger."

Something about the answer unsettled her more than she expected, but before she could respond, one of the soldiers approached. "Commander, we're ready."

Kael nodded, and Amara mounted, feeling him climb onto his horse beside her. As the gates opened, she looked back once at the palace — the crown still on her head, though for the first time it felt less like power and more like a target painted on her skull.

The eastern road disappeared into the forest, and they rode hard for nearly an hour without a word passing between them. Kael led; Amara followed close behind, the moon hidden behind thick clouds that made the road nearly impossible to see.

Then Kael raised his hand, and everyone stopped.

"What is it?" Amara whispered.

He dismounted. "Tracks." Crouching beside the road, he touched one of the marks cut deep into the mud. "Fresh."

"How many?"

"Eight horses."

Amara frowned. "You said six men."

"I said six were seen."

"Then two were waiting."

"Exactly." Kael pointed toward the trees. "Someone came off the road here."

They dismounted and followed the tracks into the forest. After several minutes they found a torn piece of blue fabric caught on a branch. Amara reached for it first, and recognized the material instantly.

"My mother's dress." Her fingers trembled as Kael took it gently from her hand.

"She was here."

"She's still alive."

"How do you know?"

"If they wanted her dead, they wouldn't have sent the message."

"That isn't necessarily true."

"It is. Because they want something from me."

He didn't argue further, and they pressed deeper into the forest until they found blood — a small trail of it staining the undergrowth. Amara's stomach tightened. "Mother."

Kael held up a hand. "Wait." He examined the ground carefully. "This isn't hers. It's fresh, but there's no sign of a struggle." He stood. "It belongs to one of the kidnappers."

"Then someone fought them."

"Or someone is following them."

A twig snapped behind them. Kael spun, sword already drawn. "Show yourself."

Silence answered him — and then an arrow flew out of the darkness. Kael knocked it aside with a sharp c***k of steel. "Down!" More arrows followed, and the soldiers scattered as Amara threw herself behind a tree.

"Kael!"

"I'm here!"