“Barely.” Her fingers gripped the edge of the bottom step, but she wasn’t strong enough to pull herself up.
“All right,” he said at last. “I’m coming up too. Be very still.”
“What if it breaks under our weight?” Charlie asked, alarmed.
“Then we’ll have to find another table and start over.” He dragged himself onto the table as gently as he could as Charlie leaned against the sloping surface, holding her breath and trying not to move. He knelt next to her. “All right. Put your foot on my shoulder and pull yourself up.”
“Then how will you get up?”
“I’m taller than you. I can reach. Hurry up before this collapses.”
Charlie did as he said, putting her boot on his shoulder to boost herself up. She was able to get a better grip on the step now and dragged herself up with a little help from Griffin. She moved up a few steps to get out of his way and waited tensely as he slowly stood and reached for the bottom step. Griffin was stronger than she was and able to pull himself up without help, his toes digging at the slick surface. He immediately urged her to her feet again, and they continued to the top of the staircase before he let her stop to rest.
After collapsing briefly at the top, Charlie stood and stared down the hallway.
“Time to try to get out,” she whispered.
“Oh, fun,” he groaned. “Been looking forward to that.”
This time when they crept down the hallway, the staircase was waiting like it had never moved. Charlie pounded down the steps, Griffin close behind her. She ran out across the middle of the room, back toward the door.
A resounding crash and a sharp pain in her hand made her jerk around and look back. Between her and Griffin lay the chandelier that had hung from the ceiling in the large room. Broken glass and bent gold were scattered across the floor. It was a piece of that glass that had cut the back of her hand.
“Um,” Charlie said.
“Just keep going,” Griffin ordered.
She grabbed the door handle and pulled. “It’s locked!” she exclaimed, pulling frantically at the door as something boomed in a far-off corner of the castle. Griffin pushed her aside and slammed his shoulder into the door, breaking it open.
They raced down the hall and back into the first room without stopping. They shot out the door, letting it slam closed behind them, and kept on through the tall grass toward the wall. Once through, they propped the door up over the opening and darted to the moat.
“I don’t think the moat is going to swallow us,” Griffin said. “We can slow down now.” But he didn’t.
“I’d rather not if it’s all the same to you,” Charlie replied breathlessly, already skidding down the slope. Only on the other side did either of them stop.
“If I didn’t know any better,” Griffin panted, “I would think you were scared.”
“Then it’s a good thing you know better, isn’t it?” she snapped.
* * *
At Charlie’s insistence, they rode well-away from the temple and its many horrors before stopping to camp close to a stream. They set up camp without the usual bickering, silently performing the minimum to settle in for the night. Griffin stacked firewood perfunctorily, then sat back on his heels to stare at it blankly. Charlie sat on the other side of the unlit fire and looked at it in silence with him for a while as they both contemplated their recent ordeal, at stark contrast with the quiet, peaceful forest; cool evening air; and soothing noises of birdsong and leaves rustling.
“So are we going to talk about what you did back there?” she asked at last.
He looked up, startled. “Saved you from being trapped in an ancient torture chamber? Yes, you’re welcome.”
Unamused, Charlie held her hand up as if holding a ball. “I was actually referring to the glowing orb of light you casually produced out of nowhere.”
He nodded, a bit chagrined. “Ah, yes. Well, about that.” He turned his focus back to the firewood, leaned over it, and mumbled softly to himself. A small flame appeared among the kindling, growing quickly until the larger sticks caught fire and began to burn.
“So that’s how you’ve been lighting our fire every day,” Charlie said, dangerously calm. “You can do magic.”
“Just a bit,” he admitted. “You’ve already seen pretty much my entire repertoire.” He hesitated a moment. “You don’t seem too shocked.”
“I’ve seen old magic before,” she said dully. “I’ve just never seen anyone work any right in front of me. I thought magic was all gone.” She stood up. “I’m going to walk upstream and take a bath. Goodbye.”
With that, she picked up the saddlebag that contained her clothes without bothering to select anything out of it and headed upstream to find a private spot to bathe. She pointedly decided not to think about magic, torture chambers, altars for young maidens, or Griffin until she was finished with her bath. Normally she would have had some trepidation that he might follow her and might even have warned him forcibly not to, but now she knew he would do no such thing and didn’t have the mental energy left to care if he did.
Charlie pealed her mud-caked clothes off, then ended up pulling them into the water with her since they had to be washed too anyway. She took her time carefully washing and rewashing her hair in the shallow water until she felt too chilled to remain any longer. She dragged herself out, struggled to pull clean clothing over her wet skin, and hauled all of her belongings back to their campsite.
Griffin didn’t appear to have moved at all while she was gone. “Well, my turn then,” he said standing and grabbing his own bag.
“It’s dark,” Charlie pointed out as she arranged her wet clothes over a low-hanging limb to dry.
“Well, I had to wait until you came back, and you took forever.” He started to leave, then hesitated. “Charlie, did you find what you were looking for at that place?”
“No,” Charlie said miserably, crawling into bed and pulling her blanket over her head.
* * *
Their experience in the mysterious, abandoned temple had created a sort of tenuous working relationship between Charlie and Griffin. Truthfully, Charlie was grateful that he had been there with her; she doubted she would have survived the ordeal without him. Unfortunately, this rather undercut her previous declarations that she did not need his help and left her with less of an argument about why he should go away and let her travel alone. Griffin was politely refraining from pointing this out to her, but she suspected that was mostly because they were both still too shaken to really want to talk about it. The supernatural elements of their adventure were so surreal, even to two people who had encountered magic before, that they almost pretended it hadn’t happened.
Shortly after they left the temple and its horrors behind, they rode into a city to re-provision. The bustle and noise of Armenday overwhelmed Charlie’s senses uncomfortably as all visits to populated places had after the relative tranquility of the road. Their horses’ hooves clipped along the straight, cobbled streets as the crowds of pedestrians with their baskets, donkeys, and children gave way to the larger animals. She had forgotten the smell of the city—it was not altogether a pleasant one. She let Mystic follow Griffin’s horse as she took in the sights and sounds, watching the people and reading the storefront signage. She had tucked her hair into her hat and worn her loose vest over her tunic to dispel any casual glances. Everyone was looking at Griffin instead of her anyway.
Griffin stopped outside a shop and dismounted. Charlie joined him, and they tied their horses to the hitching rail.
“Do you have any money to contribute to our supplies?” he asked her.
“Yes, but I’ll have to get it turned into coin first,” she answered, digging through a saddlebag.
When she turned around, he was looking at her blankly. “Turned into coin?”
“Yes, I don’t have any more coin.” She showed him the earrings in her hand, a pair of moonstones set in silver. “I’ll sell these to get some more,” she expla
ined.
To her surprise, he looked appalled. “Is that what you’ve been doing this whole time—selling off your jewelry?”
“Well, yes,” she said, puzzled about why he found this unsavory. “It’s very convenient. They’re much lighter than coins anyway. There’s always somewhere that will buy them.”
Griffin took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He held out a hand. “Give them here. We’ll find a jeweler to take them. You’d better let me do it—they’ll make a better offer to a man. They’ll think a girl selling her earrings is in a hard place and try to short you. Just wait here with the horses or have a look around. I’ll be right back.”
Charlie decided to do the latter, wandering up and down the street to admire the wares available, keeping a watchful eye on their horses as she did. Presently Griffin returned, arms laden with paper-wrapped bundles.
“I’ve bought all of the food we need. Let’s look around a bit to see what else we can find. Here, put these in your bags.” He portioned out her half of the goods, and they busily tucked their supplies away. “And here,” he said again while they were standing between their horses, shielded from the sight of other shoppers. He deposited a handful of coins into her palm. “Your change. Hide it.”
She hardly needed to be told that, but she did it anyway with only a slight roll of her eyes after she’d already turned her back to him. They rode about a bit, picking up odds and ends like soap, a spoon to replace one that had disappeared, and some sewing thread. They bought little cakes dusted with sugar at a sweets stall and ate them while watching street performers from their advantaged height. They were in no hurry and took their time working their way to the edge of the city, sometimes stopping to look at something or exchange a brief comment.
As they cleared the boundary of the city, the small, low-roofed houses gave way to open land where the forest had long ago been subdued for firewood and farming. A few parcels of land were clearly identifiable as farms, with barns and houses looking like children’s toys from a distance. But what caught Charlie’s eye was a sight she had seen once before on her trip—tents in neat rows, insignia on a snapping flag, picketed horses, and men in uniforms. She stopped her horse.
Griffin stopped too and turned back to look at her. “What?” He followed her gaze to the tents, then looked back at her again. “Oh. Soldiers. Headed to the coast, I expect. Only the Lord Bora knows why; there aren’t enough boats to take all those men across the sea.” He studied her. “You’ve gone rather pale.”
“I’m always pale,” Charlie demurred, but she couldn’t hide the nervous edge in her voice. So the soldiers are going to Tandora, she thought sickly. They’re crossing the water.
Griffin was still looking at her oddly. “What’s wrong?” he asked darkly.
Charlie swallowed and attempted to adopt a look of nonchalance. “Nothing. Just surprised.”
“Mm-hmm,” he answered, not convinced. “Your lying hasn’t improved.” He continued to look at her a long moment, then sighed. “Put it out of your mind, Charlie. There’s nothing you can do about it. Let’s go.” Resolutely, he directed his horse down the road.
Charlie stared at the soldiers for a moment longer, then followed. He was right—there was nothing she could do.
* * *
Later that evening, when they had finished dinner and were both lost to their own thoughts, Charlie stretched out on her back and stared at the sky, thinking. She was worried about the soldiers. She was worried about her quest. She was worried about Griffin. She turned her head to look at her nearest problem. Despite the unspoken truce they had adopted after escaping the temple, she still had misgivings about Griffin’s presence. She had appreciated his help at the temple, but she didn’t want him tagging along with her the rest of the way. She was afraid he might witness the arrival of a letter from Grandmother and ask her even more questions she would have to deflect. She wanted to wash her clothes and dry them by the fire without hiding her underclothes under her shirts.
Griffin was sipping from a wineskin he had bought in the city. When he noticed her looking in his direction, he held it out to her.
Charlie sat up and moved to sit by him. She took a swig from the wineskin and passed it back to him.
“Why did seeing those soldiers earlier upset you?” he wanted to know.
“It didn’t.”
“Yes, it did. Are you on the run from something?”
“No.” She accepted the wineskin again. It had been forever since she’d had wine.
“So,” Griffin said. “Since you didn’t find what you were looking for back at the temple, what are you doing now? We’re still riding east.”
“You ask too many questions,” Charlie told him, frustrated. “And I’m tired of arguing with you all the time. It’s exhausting.” She declined another turn with the wine.
“You never answer my questions,” he pointed out. “That’s half the reason I stay with you. At this point I’m so curious, I’ve got to see it through to the end.”
She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get to the end of this.”
Griffin was quiet for a while and drank his wine. “How about this,” he said at last. “I’ll make you a deal. We can have a little competition, and if I win, you have to answer a question for me. And if you win, I won’t ask you anymore questions. How does that sound?”
“What sort of competition?” she asked suspiciously.
“What about fencing? I want to see what you can do with that little sword you carry around.”
“Hmm. I don’t know,” Charlie said reluctantly. Griffin was a knight; he was most certainly stronger and better trained that she was. He had also been drinking for a while now.
“Come on,” he coaxed. “I’m only asking for one question—that’s pretty low stakes.”
“How about,” she counter-offered, “I let you ask me three questions, but I pick which one of them to answer.” That way she could dodge telling him something she really didn’t want to. And she could always lie.
“Fine,” he agreed. “But you have to swear on Mystic’s head that you’ll answer honestly.”
So much for lying. “I swear,” she sighed. “Are we doing this now? It’s getting dark.”
“Yes, I don’t imagine a friendly round of sparring will take long. Let’s move away from the shadows of the trees though.”
Charlie followed him out into the open field where there was still sunlight and more room. She tied her hair back and ignored him while he did a few stretches. She turned her sword over in her hand a few times and mentally recited the list of things her father used to tell her when he taught her. She wished she bothered to practice more, but she always felt self-conscious doing it with Griffin around.
“Come on if you’re ready,” Griffin said cheerfully. He seemed in high spirits but otherwise unaffected by the wine.
They brought their weapons up. Without warning, Griffin’s sword shot right for her neck. She was startled by the intensity of the movement after he had touted this activity as a friendly match. She parried and tried for the opening he had left, only to be blocked herself. He sliced at her legs, and she dodged again, cutting for his sword arm. He leapt back. Instead of following, she used the pause to recalculate. He was trying to frighten me so I’d panic and lose quickly, she realized. It had almost worked.
Griffin circled around, then lunged at her. Their blades clashed together, slipping until the hilts of their swords met. Both fencers leapt back, eyeing each other warily. Charlie began to think she had made a bad deal. She had fenced with her brothers often, and they were both well-trained, so she hadn’t expected to find fencing with Griffin so difficult. It occurred to her that it was possible everyone she fenced with back home might take things easy on her so they wouldn’t hurt her. It took all of her attention just to block his strikes.
“You’re doing very well,” Griffin told her. “I’m impressed with your training—it’s on par with a fi
rst-year squire. You need to be more bold though. Strike confidently.” He demonstrated by executing a thrust that stopped just short of her shoulder.
Charlie ignored him. She was afraid she would make a mistake if she even thought about what Griffin was saying, much less answered. She concentrated on trying to hook her sword under his to flick it from his hand without getting run through. He was going to wear her down if this didn’t end soon, and she was a little afraid he would actually hurt her, even if he wasn’t trying to.
She darted back, waiting for him to move toward her, then tried again to catch his sword-hilt from his hand. Instead, Griffin stepped forward and blocked her so closely that their swords clashed together close to the hilts. Charlie had to step back to keep from falling against the force of his superior weight and strength, but as she did the ground vanished under her left foot, and with her weight already tilting backward, she fell. Griffin had been leaning so hard against her that with her no longer leaning back, he fell after her, twisting in an attempt to avoid landing on her. They had stumbled backward down an incline without noticing. The momentum of the fall made Charlie almost bounce after she hit the ground, then roll so she was suddenly tangled up with Griffin, who was flailing so much trying to right himself that she could not possibly have missed him. They were only saved from impaling each other by having sensibly thrown their swords sideways when they started to fall.
After a dizzy moment, Charlie regained her breath and her equilibrium, only to find she had landed halfway on top of Griffin, both of their heads still turned downhill. She immediately tried to scramble up again, but she couldn’t seem to get free of him.
“Stop moving,” Griffin ordered. When she didn’t, he seized both of her arms and pulled her down so that she couldn’t move at all. “Be still for a minute. We’re caught, and I can’t free us if you’re thrashing around.”
His commanding tone broke through her panic enough that she obeyed. She was acutely aware of how close she was to him, and she felt trapped and vulnerable. She was breathing too fast, and she needed to be right side up. She braced her hands on the ground on either side of him so she didn’t have to touch him more than she had to.
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