Tarquin was sure he’d never been this frightened in his life. But he knew if the haldur didn’t follow him, it would go back for Ainya, and he’d rather die than have to tell Prea her sister was torn apart because he’d been too afraid to run.
Of course, dying himself seemed increasingly likely.
Tarquin was a good rider, at least for a crownling who hadn’t been trained to go to war on horseback. But while it was easy to hold his mage knife as well as the reins, not slicing off his arm while galloping full tilt wasn’t a skill the seminary had thought worth acquiring.