“No. I didn’t. Our kingdoms are at war, after all.” A moment of hesitation flickered across her eyes, and then she unwrapped one hand from the reins and offered it to him, fingers covered in rough patches, fingernails lacking varnish, unlike her red-painted toes. “Join me?”
Her invitation pulled him from his thoughts and he finally stopped, turning to look from her offered hand to her face. “Join you where? I’m capable of walking the remaining distance to the castle on foot.”
Brynhildr fell silent again and withdrew her hand. “Never mind then. Enjoy the remainder of your walk.”
“What do you want from me?” he demanded at last. “I know why you’re keeping me here—to control Cara. To make her your weapon, as you have with all the other mages you’ve captured and threatened.”
“All mages are weapons. Each of them. They have a terrible, powerful, and destructive force that must be controlled, if not one day eradicated entirely from our corner of the world.” She spun the horse to the left, turning away from him to leave, Freki’s nose pointed toward the compound’s only gate. “I don’t expect you to trust me, but I have nothing to gain by lying to you.”
“Is that what you’re after? You want to control the mages in all the kingdoms?” His voice cracked in surprise.
She paused, sitting tense in the saddle. “I’ve seen the worst of what mages can do. Kingdoms where they summon great monsters from the abyss and bring the dead back to life. You don’t have to believe me to know that your sister is dangerous. Her fire killed three of your own men.”
“Magic can do good,” he argued. “It can heal as well as harm. Our queen would never summon demons or the undead.” Except doubt crept into his voice when he remembered the black glass and what it had done not only to him, but to his friends and family.
“This queen wouldn’t, but her predecessor did. Gothel was a terrifying creature. Had we stood against her, our kingdom may have suffered the same fate as yours.” Queen Brynhildr glanced aside, biting her lower lip. “It’s been a long day and I wish to ride through the hills. Will you join me or not, Camden?”
This time when she offered her hand, he took it. He settled behind her, comfortable in the saddle but hesitant to hold her for balance. For one split second, he considered his chances in taking her long strawberry-blonde braid and choking her with it. No one would have to know it was him if he strangled the life from her and dashed from the scene of her death.
Temptation tingled through his fingers, but Cam behaved. He’d learned from his explorations, there was always some slave or servant wandering the grounds or a guard standing watch. Brynhildr set off at a trot, the gaited beast practically prancing now and raising her forehooves high with each step. “You’ve made Freki happy. She likes you.”
“Does she? Usually that never happens unless I’ve given a horse sugar.”
With few options for handholds, he gripped the saddle behind him. Riding with her didn’t alter his distrust of the queen; if anything, he questioned her motives even more. Their last visit had been an interaction in his chamber, with her scantily clad. Today, she wore fur and leather, with a sword strapped to her waist.
“You’re taking me beyond the wall?”
“Yes.” At the end of the pebbled path, they reached the massive gates that seemed to stretch forever into the sky. He’d never climb them without a rope and gear.
The sentries jerked into formation, all standing straight and pivoting their bodies to follow her progression. “Your Royal Majesty,” they murmured in unison. Someone above them turned a wheel, and the metal gates rolled open on a smooth track.
No one questioned Cam’s presence as they trotted through.
“I want to show you my kingdom,” Brynhildr said. “One day, it is my hope that you’ll no longer need to be caged at all.”
“You make it sound as if I would wish to stay here,” he murmured. His attentive gaze took in the whole operation of the door and the guards. The wall was thicker than he’d imagined, at least eight feet. A second metal door opened at the other end, operated independently of the first. “As you said, our kingdoms are at war. Why would you even want me here?”
“You’re different from the rest of your crew.”
Different how? he wondered, the question on the tip of his tongue. Again, he was overcome with the burning desire to strangle the high queen with her waist-length braid. Their size difference wasn’t too vast, Cam only two inches shorter than the queen at the most, but brawnier, and certainly outweighing her. Gods, it tempted him. But then he thought of Cara, and knew he’d never get into the compound again to rescue her if he returned alone. If Brynhildr could be trusted, Cara wasn’t there anyway, and strangling their chief oppressor guaranteed he’d never find his sister.
“Hold on tight. Freki hasn’t enjoyed a run in a good while.”
Freki charged forward, breaking into a full gallop the moment her rider gave her the reins. At risk of being thrown off, Cam circled his arm around the queen’s middle and held tight. As they flew across the open fields, his thoughts shifted to the treacherous excitement building in his chest.
He’d missed riding. No matter how much he loved the sea spray and wind against his face, the stars reflected in the ocean, and the thrill of hauling a three-hundred-pound goliath onto the deck, none of those gave him the same thrill as commanding his own stallion.
Freki had stamina he’d never observed in Eisland horses, which were lithe and fleet of foot, with thick coats they’d adapted for the long winters. This creature was like velvet under his hands, and enormous. Since childhood, he and Cara had always ridden only the largest draft horses, as they’d been large children and grown into even larger adults.
They rode for what seemed like an hour or even longer without losing their pace, her hooves bounding over packed earth while emerald hills rose and fell on both sides, speckled with colorful flowers. He appreciated that High Queen Brynhildr didn’t fill the silence with small talk.
Then at last, he saw hints of an actual village and smelled the hickory smoke rising.
Not a city, but a town nonetheless, though he’d describe it as a hamlet. The pretty cottages were painted in shades of brick red and slate gray, with thatched roofs and quaint little gardens. He gained his first look at a farm, fields stretching out ripe with tall corn and an orchard of apple trees scenting the air with their sweet fragrance.
People called out to them in passing, and from what Cam could see, they were a kingdom of giants, and he didn’t feel quite so unusually tall anymore. When they’d outfitted his cabin on the Giddy Madeleine, Joren had commissioned a custom bed for his “ogre-sized friend” since Cam’s feet hung over the edge of anything else. As they passed cheerful villagers, Brynhildr slowed to a stately trot, waving in passing.
These people seemed genuinely elated by her visit.
How much was show, he wondered, and how much was real?
* * *
Brynhildr guided Freki from the main road and trotted toward the Epleberg Orchard.
“They have no walls here. No militia as far as I can see.”
“They’re not unprotected,” Brynhildr replied, chuckling as she dismounted. She unfastened a pair of saddlebags and glanced up at him before offering the second bag. “Care to help?”
He slid down from Freki’s back and paused a moment to pat the mare’s neck, leading her to wonder if he was fond of horses, and whether he’d appreciate having a stallion of his own for rides in the compound or beyond it. “As you command.”
“That wasn’t a command.”
Wordlessly, he took the bag and ambled down the track between the trees.
Of all the orchards she’d visited across the Ridaeron Dynasty, Brynhildr loved the Epleberg family’s the most, and for that reason, Gunnar had built the new palace near their homestead to avoid losing her for days at a time while she traveled across the region for their apples.
To Brynhildr, nothing was better than plucking her own and e
ating them fresh from the tree. There were at least a dozen varying types, some good for pies, others for cider or sauce, some the sweetest morsels with crisp, honeyed flesh and skins the color of sunrise. She crossed over to the tree with the golden apples and began her collection, knowing Lydia needed at least a dozen to bake her tarts.
“It’s your mountains,” Camden finally said, breaking the silence. “They create a natural barrier any army would have to maneuver past to attack your kingdom’s heart.”
“You’re observant.” She had no doubt he was devising some way to escape them, as her guardsmen and even a few of the other thralls had mentioned his penchant for wandering. If they didn’t feed him such heavy, fattening foods on her orders, the man would no doubt begin wasting away. “Do you expect I’ll tell you the secret to our defeat without even receiving a smile in return?”
“I don’t expect you to tell me anything. I’m merely commenting. As for smiles, you can have one when I see my sister. For all I know, you have her tossed in a dungeon somewhere. You expect me to take you at your word when I’m at the disadvantage.”
“I told you no harm would come to her. Compared to any other mage, she’s living in the lap of luxury.” Gunnar thought her insane for keeping her word, and he’d suggested shipping the mageling away.
“Why should I trust you?”
“What choice do you have?” she shot back.
Though she easily may have slain the sibling pair after their failed revolt in the quarry, she wanted to keep this one. She liked his fire and his grace in combat. She studied him for a while, admiring the breadth of his shoulders and the way the cloth tightened around his biceps each time he plucked a ripe apple from the tree.
“You should try one of the golden apples. They’ve won prizes. In the fall, the owners press them for the best cider in all of our dynasty.”
“You grant awards to fruit?”
“No. We grant the awards to the farmers who grow the fruit.” Brynhildr chortled and watched him buff one of the gilded beauties against his shirt before biting into it. Before her eyes, his expression transformed from bewilderment to grudging satisfaction.
“No wonder you come to pick these yourself.”
“They are amazing, but that is not why I fetch them in person. I come to enjoy the ride, though rarely do I ever bring company. It’s peaceful.”
“Ah.”
“When I’m on the road with Freki, no one asks anything of me or has any expectations.”
* * *
Devouring a second apple provided a valid excuse to look away from her. Cam still didn’t understand her reasons for bringing him, but so far, he’d seen nothing dark or nefarious about the countryside aside from the branded slaves. His gaze dropped to his tattoo, then returned to the woman it represented. Her hair gleamed in the sunlight, golden fire against her pale face.
“Yet you’ve brought me.”
“You don’t ask anything of me or have any expectations.” She wiped a rosy apple against her shirt then bit into it. “We’ll have to match you to a horse of your own. Freki allows no one but me to ride her alone.” She didn’t look at him when she spoke, having settled in a patch of soft grass and stretched her long legs before her, crossed at the ankles.
“Not much to ride and see within the walls.”
She glanced over a shoulder at him and raised a brow. “Whoever said you’d be forever bound inside the palace walls?”
“I’ve been here, what, a month?” He set another apple in the bag, the first of them already full. “Two? I don’t expect you to trust me to roam so freely.”
“You are alone, own no weapons, and have no idea of your surroundings hundreds of miles from home. Even if you did reach a city, where would you hide? If you reached the coast, how would you sail away? Will you commandeer a ship and sail without a crew? Row a boat to Eisland?”
“I…I don’t know.”
At least she didn’t laugh at him, though his cheeks grew increasingly hot with each reminder.
“Had you approached the gates, the sentries would have allowed you to pass.”
“Someone must have missed that directive.”
“Someone must have,” she agreed, tone and expression genuinely confused.
He shrugged again and brought two apples to the horse, a golden one and a pink one, allowing her to choose which she wanted. “Not that it matters when, as you’ve said, I’m stuck in your kingdom with no way to leave unless you give me a boat and allow me and my crew to leave.”
“Allowing you and your crew to leave isn’t a possibility at this point. You’ll only return with bigger ships and weapons. Was it not your people who fired upon ours first?” She flicked her apple core aside for the birds picking through the grass for fallen morsels. Unlike the guards who had shunned him at the gate, Freki had no prejudices against him. She nibbled the gold apple from his palm and eagerly swung her tail.
“No. Your ship attacked us.” Appetite gone, he attached the saddlebags to Freki and moved into the shade. “I lost friends. People I cared for. Your captain and your mage sank the ship to the bottom of the ocean.” Including the admiral. Their prince.
Her features darkened and a notch formed between her brows. “No. That couldn’t be right. Our standing orders were to let there be peace in the Viridian for now. Not after the losses we sustained fighting Gothel’s war. According to report from Captain Njal, your people fire upon them the very moment they approach for talk. Only for talk.” She gestured with her hands, mangling the Eislandic tongue at the end.
“There was no talking. Your mage rained fire down upon us from the start.”
“That is…quite a serious allegation.”
“I was there. Do you know what we were doing when your ship ambushed us? Celebrating the birthday of our prince. We weren’t anywhere near your waters.”
Her jaw clenched. “How would I know what you were doing? All our captains have strict orders to avoid your shores. If this is true…” She sighed and turned away from him, cradling her temple with one hand and muttering under her breath.
“If you’re being honest, then there’s a simple solution. Send my crew home. Send a peace envoy to Queen Rapunzel and beg forgiveness for the misunderstanding. Keeping us here only makes you look bad and guarantees retaliation. You think you lost much at sea during Gothel’s war? They’ll bring the battle to you this time.”
“You know they’ll retaliate regardless. Your prince wasn’t among those brought in by Captain Njal, so I can only assume he is dead.”
And the death of a prince, especially the brother of the Queen of Eisland, would not be forgiven.
Brynhildr straightened, spine straighter than a steel pole. “And I do not beg.” She climbed onto Freki again, looking particularly despondent.
“Maybe so, but not even bothering to try confirms what we know about you is true. That you don’t care and don’t want peace.” He shrugged. “There’s no shame in asking forgiveness.”
The queen said nothing and did not look at him again, sitting rigidly in the saddle and gazing toward the direction from which they’d come. At the end of a tense moment, she said, “You may ride with me or walk at your own leisure. The choice is yours.”
Without another word, he swung up behind her. He had no idea what sort of beasts roamed the land after nightfall and he’d never make it back to the wall before then. The ride back took longer, Freki no longer in the spirited mood to fly like the wind. Not that Camden minded. Brynhildr remained quiet, her spine stiff, until he actually felt bad for his jabbing words. He’d always hated the silent treatment from Cara, and this was no better.
“I didn’t mean to insult you,” he finally spoke up once they passed through the two gates at the wall.
“Didn’t you?” she challenged him, voice terse. “It is your right to be cross with me, after all. You’ve held nothing back since your arrival, so do not think me so stupid that you can lie to me now.” When they reached the stables, she slipped down
first to greet the horsemaster. Her mood had long dimmed and whatever goodwill had been in her voice and twinkling in her eyes didn’t return.
And it seemed a shame, no matter how much he wanted to hate her, that only a few words from him had somehow dimmed her spirit. Cam told himself he’d wanted a bigger challenge.
“All I meant is…if you truly wish peace, you won’t let pride stand in your way.” He slid down and unstrapped the two saddlebags, hefting them over his shoulders. “Where shall I take these for you?”
The silent treatment morphed into something else, her back to him still at all times. “To the servants’ hall, if you will. Liran and Alyssa enjoy them most, but neither likes to leave the compound and find riding long distances tedious. Lydia will bake tarts tomorrow for each of you.” Without sparing Camden a glance, she unfastened the saddle girth and raised it from Freki’s back, tugging off the saddle blanket next. “An extra scoop of oats for her please, Hugi. I will brush her down myself.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” the bearded groomsman said. “Pleasant ride?”
Whatever answer Brynhildr gave, she spoke in her native tongue and it was lost to Camden.
That was a dismissal if he’d ever heard one. “Very well. Good night.” He strode toward the stable doors but paused on the threshold and glanced back. “Thank you for the ride. Your country is beautiful.”
And with that, he stepped out to deliver his sweet bounty then retire to bed. He had lots to think on.
Chapter 14
Sometimes Joren thought his sister was too kind when it came to matters of crime. He’d expected Leon’s attack against himself and Muir would earn the man a one-way trip to the gallows, but Rapunzel insisted on a closed trial. Only she, Muir, Joren, and Captain Olivier would stand in attendance. She wanted answers for his murderous conduct, to understand what drove a man to slay the defenseless.
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