“I don’t suppose you know how to braid.”
“Not on your life,” he answers with a snort. Then he raises his brows. “But I’ll cut it for you.”
“If you come near my hair with a pair of sheers, I will end you.”
He grins. “Big words for a girl who doesn’t even own a wee little dagger.”
I think about that, and my expression becomes serious. “I should, though, shouldn’t I?”
“So you can stab me?”
“No,” I scoff, giving in to the urge to toss the brush at him.
He catches it, laughing.
“For protection. I’ve already found trouble, and we haven’t even been gone for two days.” Gage’s expression darkens, and I hold up my hand before he can say anything. “Stop. I don’t want to dwell on it. It’s just something we should think about.”
Mother has always said it’s unseemly for a lady to learn how to shoot or fight, whatever that means. But whether it’s seemly or otherwise no longer feels relevant.
“All right. We’ll find you something,” Gage says, finally relenting. “Any preferences? War hammer? Battle axe?”
“Be serious.”
He laughs. “Wee little dagger it is.”
We leave the townhome not long later and stroll down the planked street, taking in the coastal village. The Talton Bay glistens in the evening light, and sea birds flock on the docks and shoreline. The beach is rocky, and much of the village is built on wooden boardwalks over the jagged boulders.
Fire lilies bloom along the coast, mocking me. The flowers are beautiful, yes, but looking at them is a reminder that Braeton was stolen from me far before his time.
Several fishing vessels are anchored not far away, in deeper water.
“How far away do you think the boundary is?” I ask Gage as we walk, looking at the horizon where the sky meets the water.
He follows my gaze. “I’ve heard you can head directly out to sea, sailing in a straight line, and end up back in Renove in a week. So maybe three to four days away, depending on the wind?”
The phenomenon began with the creation of the Chasm. We can’t leave our kingdom, and no one can enter it. We have historical maps showing other continents, other lands. We used to engage in trade, as did the kingdom directly above us.
Now we’re isolated, in our own little bubble. No one knows exactly what happened when my distant grandfather begged the fae to create the magical divide between Draegan and us. They left us after it was finished, taking their knowledge with them, sailing off in their great ships, somehow passing the boundary that won’t let us, or anyone else, through.
We can’t control the magic that was unleashed. We can’t touch it or wield it. It lives in the land, doing as it pleases. It’s benevolent, however. Gentle, giving. Ever since that time, we’ve had mild winters. Our summers are warm and plentiful. Things grow well; people thrive. In every way, it blesses us.
Except when orchards come to life.
The thought makes me pause.
“Are you all right?” Gage asks when he realizes I’m standing still, staring at the water.
“Hmm?” I turn back to him, shaking my head. “Yes, fine.”
He gives me a quizzical look but doesn’t question me further.
Occasionally, I glance over my shoulder. After I’ve done it a dozen times or so, Gage pivots on his heel, looking behind us. “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing.”
He narrows his eyes at me, and I clear my throat, trying to act casual. “I was admiring the village.” I wave my hand around. “I’ve never been here. It’s cute, wouldn’t you say?”
“Cute,” my cousin deadpans, still studying me.
I smile and jerk my chin in the direction we were headed, silently telling him to continue.
He eyes me, suspicious, but begins walking once more.
I resist the urge to look behind me again, to see if I can spot a particular huntsman in the crowd. Somehow, I know Rhys is here.
I’ll just have to wait until he finds me.
We spend an entire week in Talton. I walk the streets with Ember, buying trinkets from the peddlers and eating fish, mussels, and crustaceans cooked over beach fires.
I’m not sure exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. It’s a fascinating way to while away the time after living in the castle my entire life, and Talton is certainly lovely, but how am I going to spend a year like this? Am I fulfilling the requirements of the Requeamare by wandering like a tourist?
“Have you found our king yet?” Gage asks me when I step inside the kitchen. He has something cooking in a pot over a low fire, and he pokes it with a wooden spoon.
“Maybe tomorrow,” I say absently, working up the nerve to look into the pot. “What are you doing?”
“Making onion soup.”
“What have you put in there?”
“Onions. Water.”
“So…you’re bathing them?”
He shoots me a look. “What else would you put in onion soup?”
“Beef, I believe.”
He looks back at the pot and grunts.
Leaving him to his experiment, I sit at the table. “Have you written to Kess?”
“Every day since we’ve been here.”
I smile, though my heart hurts for them both. “Have you sent the letters? I can take them to the courier if you’d like. I have a few letters to send tomorrow.”
Gage has given me some freedom since we’ve been here. The royal guards are attentive, and they appear to keep a watchful eye on their posts. As long as I take Ember along, Gage has allowed me to explore the village and the shore during the daylight hours.
I had hoped that I might stumble into Rhys on one of my outings, but since I haven’t gotten lost, and no one has shown villainous intentions toward me, he hasn’t made his presence known. I’m about to throw myself into the ocean just to see if he’ll appear.
There’s also the chance that he’s not here at all, that I was wrong about him following me and that he was indeed in the wrong place at the right time—as he said. In fact, it’s a bit presumptuous to assume his entire world suddenly revolves around me.
“Honestly, Amalia,” I mutter to myself, “How vain are you?”
“What was that?” Gage asks, turning toward me.
I look up, feigning confusion. “What was what?”
He studies me, and judging from the tilt of his brows, I’m not sure he likes what he sees. “Do you remember how we spread the rumor that you were going mad?”
“You mean when we were still in Kenrow…less than two weeks ago?” I say. “Yes, I seem to remember.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if it might have been true.”
I scoff, pretending to be offended.
He chuckles and goes back to stirring his onions.
“You’re not going to make me eat that, are you?” I ask.
Gage frowns, his lips pressed into a flat line, reminding me of a frog. He brings a spoonful of onion water to his lips to test, and then he makes a face.
“Well?” I ask. “How is it?”
“It tastes like water boiled with onions.”
“So…to the tavern?” I now have a favorite, and it does not serve onion water soup.
Calling it a loss, Gage nods. “All right.”
Ember sleeps in the main room, belly in the air, back leg twitching. She stretches when I give her a scratch, caring little that we’re leaving. “I’ll be back,” I promise her.
I tell Gage about my day as we walk through the village, heading toward the main square.
“I sat on the dock and watched women dig clams from the sandy stretch of beach at low tide,” I say. “I was tempted to join them, but I had no bucket or spade.”
“You were going to dig for clams?” Gage asks, sounding particularly amused.
“It looked a bit like a game,” I say, laughing. “A treasure hunt of sorts.”
He shakes his head, but he’s smiling.<
br />
I’m about to tell him about the man I met who was weaving nets when I spot someone in the crowd.
I gasp softly when I see Rhys. The huntsman walks down the boardwalk, just about to pass us. The hood of his brown cloak is pulled over his head, and his face is mostly shaded.
He looks up, and our gazes meet and hold. His eyes are green—not emerald, but a darker shade that reminds me of summer forests. I hadn’t noticed before—likely because we keep meeting at night.
My breath catches in my chest, but I keep walking, never faltering, never slowing.
The smallest of smiles, one I’m probably not supposed to see, plays at his lips as he lowers his head and continues on his way.
12
“The princess has been looking for you,” Tryndon says from our table at one of the local taverns. “She’s constantly scanning the crowds.”
“Why are you here again?” I ask, wishing he’d leave. If questioned, Tryndon would say he and I are close. I would say he’s a nuisance.
“You have no friends.” Tryndon helps himself to my roll. “I thought you could use some company.”
“I don’t need friends, and I certainly don’t need company.”
“A lone wolf,” my brother says, smirking. “Solitary captain.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I’d say noble captain, but that’s a title you dropped some time ago, isn’t it?”
I glare at him, eating in silence, inviting him to do the same.
“Amalia hasn’t noticed you, has she?” I ask once I’ve finished.
Tryndon shakes his shaggy blond head. “No. She’s a pretty girl but not particularly observant—that’s how I know she’s looking for someone specific. And I believe that someone, dear brother, is you.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Is it? Did she or didn’t she say that she thinks you’re her own, personal guardian, there to swoop in whenever she finds herself in danger?”
He laughs as if that’s the funniest notion he’s heard in his life.
I shouldn’t have told him about the conversation I had with Amalia, but it’s been a long week, and my brother is nothing if not relentless.
Eager to be alone, I stand.
“Where are you going?” Tryndon asks, grinning like a fool. “Looking for the girl, aren’t you?”
“No.”
Yes.
He chuckles as I leave, but I ignore him.
I walk the boardwalk, toward the house where Amalia is currently staying, replaying my conversation with Tryndon in my mind.
The princess has been looking for you.
I release an irritated sigh, wondering what errand I could concoct to get rid of my brother. My men are already waiting ahead for my command, so there’s no reason to send him to them.
I’m afraid, for the time being, I’m stuck with him.
Amalia and her cousin have been in Talton for a week, and they don’t seem to be in a hurry to leave. I cannot implement the first of my plans yet, and I cannot send my men ahead until I know which way the princess intends to travel. She’s obviously heading to Saulette, but will she take the long way around the mountains, or will she choose to ride over the pass? Or perhaps she’ll go south out of Bayshore, along the coast—though that route would take far longer and be less comfortable.
I mull over the options as I walk. The evening air is pleasant, even if the breeze cutting across the ocean is cool. There are plenty of people about, and blending in with the crowds is a learned skill—one I’ve mastered.
I see Amalia long before she notices me. She speaks with her cousin, her face animated and her hands moving as she tells a story. Since she left the castle, she’s been wearing her hair down, and the evening light catches the brunette waves, bringing out the golden undertones.
She’s in a simple blue gown, something a merchant’s daughter might wear. Like me, she’s trying to blend in with the common folk of the village. Unlike me, she’s failing miserably.
People watch the princess, captured by the way she moves and the smile she’s not careful enough to hide. I frown, watching her dole those smiles out to anyone and everyone without a thought.
When we’re close, I lower my head, careful to make sure Amalia’s cousin doesn’t spot me. At the last minute, when we’re just about to pass each other, the pull becomes impossible to resist, and I look up.
Amalia’s eyes meet mine, and her lips part slightly, betraying her pleasure…but not surprise. It’s as Tryndon said—she’s been watching for me. In these brief seconds, she smiles for me, but it’s not the same one she bestows on the masses.
This one ghosts across her lips, meant for me alone. Something passes between us, something unsettling.
I can’t allow myself to be attracted to the princess. Attraction leads to affection, and if left unattended, affection can stumble into love.
Not only is losing my heart to Amalia not part of the plan—it isn’t even an option.
13
“It’s cold, isn’t it?” I say to Gage, wrapping my arms around myself.
My cousin glances at me, drawing his brows together. “A little, I suppose.”
“I should go back for a shawl, shouldn’t I?”
“If you think you—”
“I’ll meet you there.” I resist the urge to shove him forward to keep him moving.
He looks back, baffled. “I’ll walk with you.”
“No,” I say too quickly, and then realize I need to be nonchalant about this. Shrugging, pretending I’m in no hurry, I add, “The tavern fills up so quickly in the evenings.”
It’s true—it does. They serve the most amazing clam chowder, and the cook pan-fries fish with a crust that’s better than anything I’ve ever had at home.
“All right…”
“I’ll be back shortly,” I assure him, not daring to hurry after Rhys until my cousin continues walking.
With a shake of his head, Gage glances at one of the village guards standing at his post. As if deciding there’s little chance of me finding trouble this time of day, he turns toward the tavern.
I nibble my lip, waiting to make sure he’s not going to turn back, and then I take off down the boardwalk, looking for a man in a dark brown cloak.
Rhys has already disappeared.
The crowds get thicker as people leave their shops and places of business and head for their homes. I climb the stairs of the local courier’s office, hoping to get a better view. The office is on the second story of a long, wooden building boasting several shops. I climb the stairs and walk the upper balcony, which wraps around the building.
Up here, I have a view of the boardwalk and many of the walkways that branch off the main thoroughfare. There is no sign of Rhys, however.
Sighing, I turn and walk smack-dab into a human wall. Hands steady my arms, and my eyes fly to the man’s face.
Not Rhys.
“Are you all right?” the man asks, smiling.
He’s too close, but when I step back, my back meets the rail. He’s several years older than I am, with dark red hair, and his face has a sharp edge to it.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I say, attempting to edge away.
“I’ve seen you around Talton these last few days.” The man’s eyes drop to my neck. “I wanted to take the opportunity to introduce myself.”
I’m wearing the necklace Braeton gave me before he left. I couldn’t bear to leave it home, but now I’m questioning the wisdom in that decision.
Instinctively, I cover the pendant with my hand and force a smile. “My brother is expecting me,” I say, though the words sound strange when I’m speaking of Gage and not Braeton or Keir.
“I’m Rupert,” the man continues, acting as though I didn’t even speak. “I run a trade shop in Saulette.”
“A…trade shop?” I ask, unfamiliar with the term.
“I’m a pawnbroker.”
Still, I have no recollection of what that means.
His
eyes once again drop to my hand, which is still covering my necklace. “I buy things of value from people who might be in need of money, and then I sell them back if they can pay me in a reasonable amount of time.”
“Oh.” I swallow, realizing we’re shadowed and out of the street guards’ view.
“I noticed your necklace in passing,” he says, giving me a perfectly friendly smile that has my intuition waking. “Are you interested in selling it?”
I shake my head.
“Shame.” He wrinkles his nose and takes a step forward. I shift back to avoid him, and the railing bites into my spine. There’s nowhere for me to go, and he knows it. “Maybe I can change your mind?”
Pretending to be braver than I am, I square my shoulders. “I’m not interested.”
“I’ll give you two pieces of gold for it.”
Before I can decline that absurd—and frankly insulting—offer, a hand drops on the man’s shoulder from behind, and a cloaked figure appears as if out of nowhere. “Is there a problem?”
My stomach flips when Rhys steps around the man, placing himself partially between us.
Rupert’s smile grows, but it turns the slightest bit feral. “I have business with the girl.”
“That’s not what it sounded like to me,” Rhys says. “In fact, I believe she made it clear she isn’t interested.”
“And who are you to interrupt?” Rupert demands, puffing up in a way that makes me nervous. “I haven’t seen you with her, so what right do you have?”
Without a thought, I slip my arm through Rhys’s. The huntsman tenses like the contact takes him by surprise, but he doesn’t shift away.
“He’s my betrothed,” I say boldly, cocking my head, daring either of the men to argue with me. “He just arrived in Talton. My brother and I have been waiting for him.”
Rhys doesn’t so much as flinch, but Rupert looks between us, obviously skeptical. After a heavy moment, he forces a laugh. “If you change your mind, I’m at the inn.”
I bow my head and then glare at his back as he hurries down the stairs and onto the boardwalk. The man is just stepping out of view when I realize I can feel Rhys’s eyes boring into the side of my head.
Forest of Firelight Page 7