“Alright?” Sail hollers as he brings Crisp forward.
All I can do is nod, because the howling wind would only rip my voice away. I use the stirrup to haul myself up, and as soon as I’m seated, Sail grasps both the reins and leads our horses through the thick snow, their heavy hooves forcing a path through the white.
Squinting past the wind, I look back to see that the other carriages are stuck too, the snow an easy three feet deep, holding the wheels hostage.
Guards are scrambling and shouting at each other, trying to free the horses and help the saddles, while leading everyone toward cover.
As soon as Sail and I reach the trees, we get instant relief from the hail. A few pellets still manage to hit us through the branches but not nearly as much.
The guards are chopping and stacking wood, making quick work to build a fire. When they try to light it, it spits and smokes, the stubborn, wet pieces refusing to light. Until Digby marches over, stern as ever. One cast of his flint sends sparks flying, catching onto the kindling like it doesn’t dare disobey him.
Sail leads me where the other horses are gathered, the snow cleared away so they have a spot to rest, a bale of hay already there waiting for them.
I jump down, ready to help with Crisp, but Sail insists that I go sit and get warm while he tends to the horses. He directs me to one of the downed logs in front of the growing fire, and I take a seat, feeling exhausted and shivering all the way through, even the marrow in my bones feeling brittle with cold. The other saddles slowly filter in too, sitting on other logs surrounding the flames, huddling next to each other for extra warmth.
I watch as the guards stack wood, set up tents, haul trunks, and shovel snow out of the way to build up a windbreak, not one of them idle while I shiver beside the weak fire, holding out my shaking, gloved hands to the flames.
The guards pile lightweight bricks near it, and I know each and every one will be gone as soon as they’re hot, to be stuffed into sleeping bags, helping to warm our feet while we rest.
The guards work efficiently and quickly, amazing me at how fast they get everything done. Soon, everyone is gathered near the fire, tents scattered everywhere a gap in the trees allows it.
The hail falls. Pebbles of ice peppering down, ricocheting off bark and branches alike, leaving splintered wood in its wake. It clacks against the trees like small explosions, while the branches overhead groan from the push of the wind.
It was just a matter of time before a storm rolled in. We’re lucky that we had mild nights for as long as we did.
I spot Sail off to the left setting up my tent, and I walk over to him where he’s busy staking the tarp into the ground and pulling the fabric taut.
“Want help?” I ask, my voice raised so I can be heard over the hail.
But Digby walks by with my rolled-up furs in his arms. “No. You don’t help.”
“We serve you, Miss Auren. Not the other way around,” Sail tells me.
“That’s good, because I don’t actually know how to put up a tent,” I joke, making Sail laugh.
After he gets the whole thing together, he and Digby quickly pile furs inside, along with my own lantern to give off both light and a little bit of heat, even though my tent is nearest to the fire.
I feel a little guilty at the special treatment, especially knowing that the guards and other saddles have to share a tent with five or six others, while I get one all to myself. Though, at least they get to share the body heat.
I practically inhale my portion of travel rations and boiled water, and then head for my tent early. There are a few more hours of night left, but we won’t be able to get back on the road for hours yet, based on the strength of the storm.
When he sees me coming, Sail gets up from his spot on the stump next to my tent, the spot he’ll be keeping watch while I rest. He holds the flap open for me to get in. “Looks like you lost that bet, hmm?”
“Ah, but I didn’t actually get to take the bet, did I?”
Sail laughs and shakes his head. The fact that he can always be in such good humor, regardless of what’s going on around him, is a testament to his character. “You got lucky this time. I won’t let you off the hook so easily next time.”
“Thanks for the warning. Good night.”
“Night, my lady.”
I duck inside, tying the flaps closed before I quickly strip and get dressed into a thick woolen nightgown and burrow myself beneath the covers of my furs, while I leave my boots to dry beside the lantern.
The hot brick at my feet feels like heaven, but I know its warmth won’t last for long. Not with the hail pelting the tent, not with the wind that seems to cut through every layer around me, slicing straight through.
The weather held for seven days, but now it’s broken into a million powerful pieces, sending shards raining down from the sky.
Outside, the storm seethes like a warning.
I’ll realize too late that I should’ve heeded it.
Chapter Twenty-One
The storm rages and rages.
Not like the Gale Widow blowing with the wail of her despair, but a scorned woman, raining down a frozen hell of vengeance, just as Sail predicted.
Three long days and even longer nights. Hail and snow and then a horrible downpour of rain that comes in biting rivulets, soaking our entire encampment, freezing wherever it lands.
Everyone, even good-natured Sail, is miserable. I think poor Crisp is even ready to revolt. The fire keeps going out too, no matter how many wooden lean-tos the guards build, trying to keep the wind and wet away.
They finally have to hack up one of the tent tarps and tie it tight between the trees high up to keep the pouring rain from falling directly onto the flames. It’s good for shelter, not so good for the men who have to bunk up in increasingly cramped sleeping conditions.
No one can hunt, and there aren’t any animals out in this weather anyway, which means all we have to eat is the dried meat and nuts. Nothing hot, nothing fresh, aside from the boiled water of endless melted snow. Everyone mostly just stays inside their tents, bored, cold, and cross, cursing at an indifferent sky.
Until finally, on the fourth day, the storm breaks.
I wake up to the sound of fire-crackling flame instead of wind or hail or rain. Peeking out of my tent for the first time in hours, I find that the muddy sludge is gone, and in its place is a new foot of snow glittering in the gray, waning light. Flakes fall gently from the sky in a lazy, peaceful dance.
“Thank Divine.”
Judging by the position of the sun, I’d say there’s only about an hour or so left of daylight.
I glance around, noting that most of the men are either out scouting or dealing with the still stuck carriages, while the rest are sharpening their weapons or eating. But I can tell that the mood is no longer bleak, several of the guards good-naturedly ribbing each other and talking with relaxed faces.
Most of them are used to me now that we’ve been traveling for days on end together, but I still get curious looks and stolen glances now and then. However, none of them attempt to talk to me or come near me, aside from Digby and Sail. Either Midas warned them off or Digby did. Probably both.
I clean myself up in my tent, waiting for nightfall, knowing that we’ll be getting back on the road as quickly as we can break camp.
I wash out of a water pitcher, with a cold, damp rag. Traveling isn’t glamorous, and I sorely miss the things I’ve gotten spoiled by like my bed, my pillows, my bath.
Just thinking about soaking in hot water makes me want to groan. Instead, I have to settle for this hurried rag-wash, going as quickly as I can with goose bumps pebbling over my skin, teeth chattering.
It takes some grit to force myself to pour the pitcher over my hair, and I nearly squeal at just how cold it is, but I manage to keep it in and scrub my scalp and strands hastily before my fingertips go numb.
I dress with my skin still slightly damp, using my ribbons to help re-braid my hair before t
hey wrap around me, another layer to help insulate.
Just as I yank on my fleece-lined leggings beneath my heavy gown, a tray of food is shoved into my tent—probably Digby making sure I eat before we get back on the road.
I grab the tray and sit on my bedroll, dragging my furs over my lap while I eat. There’s an entire leg of roasted meat, and even though it doesn’t have any spices or seasoning, I devour it in seconds. It’s blessedly hot and fresh, leaps and bounds better than that chewy, dried stuff I’ve been choking down.
When I’ve eaten everything off the plate short of licking it, I help pack up the tent, rolling my furs, putting away my clothes in the trunk, dimming the lantern.
By the time I step out of my tent, the camp has already been broken down, the men suiting up in their armor and shoveling snow over the banked fire. The horses have already been led away too, strapped to the unstuck and mended carriages, while the shadow of night begins to curl over the horizon, ready to bathe the world dark.
“Ready, Miss Auren?” Sail asks, coming up from behind me.
I dash away the snowflake that lands on my cheek. “More than ready to get moving. I thought that storm would never end.”
“We lost a few days, and the ground turned to ice, but the new snow will help, and we’re not so far off from Fifth Kingdom.”
“Good,” I say, as I begin to follow him away from the trees to where the horses are already lined up.
Digby stops me, a scowl ready on his face. “Your hair is wet.”
“Excellent observational skills, Diggy,” I tease before bringing up my hood.
But even Sail frowns over at me. “He’s right. You’ll catch a chill.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll ride in the carriage until it’s dry,” Digby states.
Now it’s my turn to scowl. I don’t want to be cooped up in the carriage after being cooped up in the tent for three days. “I’d prefer to ride.” Digby shakes his head.
“I’ll wear my hood,” I insist.
He doesn’t reply, just walks me over to my carriage and pops the door open, eyeing me. He’s obviously not going to be talked out of it, and I don’t see Crisp anyway.
I sigh in defeat. “Fine,” I grumble. “But as soon as it’s dry, I’m riding next to you, and I’m going to talk for hours,” I warn him.
I can’t be sure, but I think the corner of his mouth tilts up, just a bit. I point at it. “Ha! You almost smiled,” I say victoriously before turning to Sail. “You saw it too, right?”
He nods with a grin. “Definitely.”
Digby rolls his eyes and hikes a thumb toward the inside of the carriage. “In.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say before climbing into the carriage. Sail gives me a smile before shutting the door, and I lean back, settling against the cushioned seat as our group begins to move forward once more. At least my legs and back had a nice reprieve from riding, my muscles no longer sore.
I loosen my hair out of the braid, hoping that it’ll help to dry it quicker. I’m already bored out of my mind, and I’ve only been in here for a few minutes. I lean against the carriage wall and close my eyes, wondering how many days we still have of travel before we reach Fifth Kingdom. I know the storm set us back, but I’m not sure by how much.
The steady rocking of the carriage must make me fall asleep, because the next thing I know, my eyes are flying open. I look around the carriage, noting that the small lantern inside has died out.
My ribbons are curled up around me beneath my coat, offering me some extra warmth, and my hair is dry, the golden strands hanging behind my shoulders.
I’m disoriented as I look around the dark carriage, troubled as I try to pinpoint what woke me up. But then I realize, the carriage has stopped.
It’s still dark out, so I know we can’t have been traveling for very long. The carriage probably got stuck again, and the jolt woke me. I wipe the condensation off the window and look out, but all I can see is a thick veil of darkness.
I rap my knuckles against the glass. “Digby? Sail?”
I don’t get a response, and I don’t hear any of the men outside. A corrosive edge of panic threatens to slice into me, and my hand lifts up to the scar on my throat—something I haven’t done in days.
Scooting closer to the door, I press my face against the glass, attempting to see something, anything, out the window, but all that’s visible is the dimmest glow of snow on the ground. Everything else is bathed in darkness.
I grip the handle to go outside and investigate, but the door wrenches open, making me flinch back in surprise as Sail’s head pops in.
“Great Divine, you scared me. What’s happening?”
“Sorry, Miss Auren,” he says, his eyes flicking down to where my hand is holding my throat. I quickly drop it as he clears his throat. “Digby called a halt. The leads saw some disturbance in the snow, so he’s sent out some scouts.”
“What kind of disturbance?”
“Not sure yet.”
I move to get out, but Sail doesn’t step aside and instead gives me a sheepish look. “Digby wants you to stay in the carriage.”
I’m sure he does, but I can’t bear being stuck in here. That trapped feeling…
The second I stepped foot outside of the Highbell Castle, something changed. Like a plug pulled out of its drain, a decade’s worth of water, water that’s engulfed me completely, began to lower. Gone was the strain of holding my head above it. There was no sucking in breaths, counting them, reminding myself I had air, that the crushing flood wouldn’t suffocate me as I treaded water.
I can’t go back to that. Mentally, emotionally, even physically, the thought makes beaded sweat begin to gather against my skin, and I know, I just know that I can’t bear it.
Which is why, even though I’ve been ordered to remain, even though there might be danger outside, I can’t stay in here. It’s too cooped up, too reminiscent of that perpetual fight to float instead of sink.
So I shove past Sail and jump out into the dark.
Chapter Twenty-Two
My boots land nimbly on the snow as I jump down from the carriage. Sail gives a soft curse behind me, but he doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to get me to go back. I like that about him.
“Where are the other guards?”
He points. “Up ahead on the hill where they can get a better vantage point.”
I nod swiftly as we make our way through the snow. As we pass by the saddles’ carriages, women’s heads pop out the windows, straining to see what’s going on. The drivers wait steadfastly on their benches, keeping the horses from becoming too anxious as their hooves paw at the snow.
Rissa is one of the women leaning out, but she surprises me when she calls my name. She hasn’t spoken a word to me since I saw her in the throne room that night, when King Fulke demanded our attention. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I tell her honestly.
Her blue eyes flicker around the dark landscape, though their lanterns bloom light from inside the carriage.
“If you find anything out, let us know.” She pulls her head back inside without waiting for my reply, conversation between Rosh and Polly immediately striking up in quiet murmurs.
I blink at the window for a moment before moving on. I don’t know whether to be glad that Rissa was willing to talk to me or offended at her brashness.
Sail looks over at me and smirks, though he says nothing. “What?” I ask.
He gives an easy shrug. “Nothing. I’m surprised you didn’t ask for a book, is all.”
I frown. “A book?”
“Yeah, to chuck at her head.” Sail barks a laugh at his words, and my mouth pops open before a grudging, embarrassed laugh escapes me. “I was trying to help her!”
Sail laughs so hard that he loses his breath. “Remind me not to ever ask for your help, Miss Auren.”
My lips pull up into a smile from his teasing. “Ass.”
“It’s my favorite story of yo
urs.”
I groan and wipe a hand down my face. “You guards are a gossipy bunch. Does everyone know?”
Sail grins. “Yep.”
I shake my head. “Great Divine.”
His chuckle tapers off. “Don’t be embarrassed. I like that story.”
I give him a glare, but he holds up his hands. “Not just for the reasons you think,” he explains. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted this position—to help escort you to Fifth Kingdom. Sure, back at home, I was just on outside wall watch. Boring as hell and cold enough to freeze your ba—er, I mean, to freeze,” he corrects with an embarrassed grin shot my way.
“You can say balls, you know,” I tease. “You don’t have to be careful or censure yourself. I’m just a saddle, after all.”
But Sail shakes his head. “You’re definitely more than just that, my lady. And you should make sure people treat you as such.”
Sail’s words startle me, my smile slipping off as the conviction of his words put something serious between us. Something heavier than the lightness we usually keep.
“As I was saying,” he goes on, filling the awkward silence. “I wasn’t sure I wanted this placement, even though it was going to be a huge advancement for my rank. But then, this lot that Digby chose, we started talking. Trading stories. And that was when I heard about you tossing that book at poor Miss Rissa’s face.” He shakes his head with a snicker. “Some of them thought you were just being a…”
“Bitch?” I offer.
A sheepish look is sent my way. “Right. But a few of us reckoned what you were really up to, how tired Miss Rissa was. We figured it out.”
“Pleased with yourselves, hmm?”
“Immensely. But that was how I knew I made the right decision to guard you. Because you aren’t what some people say—you aren’t some stuck-up, spoiled snob of a saddle, sitting in her tower and sneering down your nose at everyone while you polish your gold skin.”
I grimace at his visual.
“No, you cared enough about getting Miss Rissa out of a tight spot, so much so that you risked looking like the villain. You did something, a little rough, sure, and probably not the most well thought out plan, but you acted. You didn’t just stand by.”
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