Warren’s condescending look turned into a snarl. “Take your forged papers and get out of here.”
“They’re not forgeries,” Nicholas called from below. He and Aiana had worked their way up in the crowd. “I’m an attorney, and I completed them with Westhaven’s chief representative. Everything’s in order. Mister Thorn’s citizenship was intact the day you found the Alanzan items.”
“How convenient this just surfaced,” snapped the governor. “You should’ve presented this ‘evidence’ before the verdict. This demon will be brought to justice, and I’ll be damned if . . .”
He trailed off as his eyes lifted to something beyond me. I stood on my tiptoes and tried to see what had caught his attention. A group of riders was charging down the road, oblivious to anything in their way. The panicked crowd split up, frantic to get to safety.
“Governor!” cried one of the men when they were within hearing. “The Icori are here! A whole force of them!”
Governor Doyle regarded the man as if he was crazy. “There haven’t been Icori in the city in years—or anywhere in Denham.”
The man pointed. “They’re right behind me! Call the soldiers!”
But as I’d noticed before, Cape Triumph didn’t have a large military presence. There had been no need, now that threats from the Icori and Lorandians were nonexistent. The crown had diverted the bulk of its might to more vulnerable colonies, leaving the old fort all but abandoned. Today, crowd management was being handled by scattered militia and a handful of remaining soldiers.
I had a hard time believing the Icori claim too, but then I saw what came down the road next. A pack of nearly fifty horses approached, surrounded in a cloud of dust. As they grew closer, I saw the bright colors of plaid wool draped over the riders. Sunlight shone on heads of red and gold hair. Equally visible were swords and shields.
Chaos ensued. The crowd broke, screaming as they ran for what they hoped was safety. Governor Doyle began shouting for the militia to assemble, but it was nearly impossible to manage in this frenzy. I urgently beckoned Nicholas to come up the steps with me.
I didn’t know what was happening, but I wasn’t going to leave Cedric tied up when a battle was about to start. I ran over to him and sliced his ropes.
“You’re okay? You’re okay?” I asked, taking in the beloved features.
“Yes—yes.” He touched my cheek briefly and peered around, having the same sentiment as me. “We need to get out of here. Up the north highway—take to the woods.”
Nicholas nodded. “We can get help in the towns there, maybe make it to Archerwood Colony. Their militia’s bigger, and they still have some army left.”
We turned for the gallows stairs and found Warren blocking our path. Amazingly, only an hour after being found not guilty, he’d gotten a hold of a gun. “You’re not leaving,” he said. “Maybe we’re all going to die here, but I’m going to be the one who finishes you.”
I glanced frantically at the approaching Icori. They hadn’t attacked, but there’d been no need, with everyone fleeing. The militia had finally started to assemble, but so far, there were only about two dozen.
“Stop this,” I told him. “This isn’t the time for a vendetta! You can get away with us. We’re going north.”
“Save your own skin,” added Cedric. “You’re good at that.”
It wasn’t, perhaps, the most tactful comment to use when trying to sway Warren to our side, but I doubted anything would have. A voice suddenly boomed, “Where is the governor?”
We all turned. The Icori had reached the bottom of the platform. There’d still been no sign of attack. They seemed remarkably calm, though those in the group’s periphery watched the colonists warily and held their weapons tightly.
Many were painted with blue woad, just like the two Icori we’d met on the road, covered in symbols I didn’t know. Women warriors rode along with the men. Copper ornaments and feathers decorated riders and horses, and their woolen tartans made a sea of color. Looking closely, I could see a pattern to it. Several riders to the side wore plaid of red and white. Another cluster wore red and blue. The group in the front wore green and black.
This was the group the speaker was in. He was in front, all tanned muscles and white-blond hair and—
He was the Icori we’d met on the road to Hadisen.
“Where is the governor?” His Osfridian was still clear.
Governor Doyle hesitantly stepped forward. “I’m the governor. You have no business here. Get out before my army beats yours to the ground.” It was a bluff, seeing as the militia had thirty at most by now. I think several had fled.
“We do have business,” the Icori man said. “We’ve come seeking justice—your help in righting a wrong done to us.” His eyes flicked toward Warren. “I was told we’d need more than two people to have our demands heard. So here we are.”
“You’ve had no wrongs done to you,” said Governor Doyle. “We’ve all agreed to the treaties. We’ve all obeyed them. You have your land, we have ours.”
“Soldiers are moving into our land and attacking our villages—soldiers from the place you call Lorandy.” The Icori man met the governor’s gaze unblinkingly. “And your own people are aiding them and letting them cross your territories.”
This caused a nervous stir among our colonists, but Governor Doyle only grew angrier. “Impossible! Lorandians moving into your lands means they would flank ours. No man among us would allow such a thing.”