Kaira looked at Lance and shook her head. “Birjanji says it’s too dangerous.”

Slowly, the horses continued their way. Mysteria’s face was white as she held onto Straithin’s saddle, but the stallion’s footing was firm. Prince Alexander’s horse, Capulet, slipped once, but caught himself. Centriar felt for each step carefully, Lance allowing him his head. Kaira leaned forward against Birjanji’s neck to make it easier for him. Inch-by-inch they climbed, the sun burning down on them. Beads of sweat formed on the horses’ bodies, which then turned into wet patches on their necks and flanks. Kaira thought the mountain slope seemed to go on forever. Would it ever end?

Birjanji’s foreleg touched the summit at last and with one concerted effort, he scrambled up onto it....

Please subscribe to keep reading.