“When do I need to have the stitches removed?” I ask instead.
“Ten days. If you’re in Saulette by then, I can do it for you.”
“I can do it as well,” Rhys says, taking me by surprise. “I’ve removed stitches before.”
I turn to him. “You have? Why?”
He gives me a shrug.
This man. Honestly. Getting anything out of him is like pulling teeth.
Kent smiles, undaunted by Rhys’s indifferent behavior. “Either way.”
“Where’s your sister?” I ask.
Kent looks as though he wants to roll his eyes, but he resists. “She’s resting. Apparently, she’s still suffering from yesterday’s ordeal.”
“She wasn’t even on the boat!” I exclaim.
He extends his hands as if to say, “What can you do?”
“Are you riding to Saulette?” Gage asks him.
“No, I’ve sent a courier over the mountains to inform my father we’ve made it here. They’ll send a carriage.” The doctor gives Rhys a sideways look. “I’d invite you to join us, but I wouldn’t wish my sister on anyone.”
Which really means he’s protecting my secret.
“That’s all right,” I tell him. “As soon as our horses arrive, we’ll ride there.”
“Over the mountains?” he asks, looking concerned. He then turns to Gage. “Just the three of you?”
Gage looks at Rhys. “I assume you’re headed to Saulette?”
There are a few fishing communities farther down the coast, but they’re so tiny I didn’t know about them until I spotted them on the map. Most people who travel all the way to Bayshore are on their way to Saulette.
Rhys nods.
“Are you planning to ride with us? I haven’t seen any sign of Rupert, so there’s a good chance he’s already gone ahead. Please don’t feel obligated.”
“I’ve come this far,” Rhys says. “I don’t mind accompanying you the rest of the way.”
“Rupert?” Kent asks. “The man we sat with at dinner while we were aboard the ship?”
“Yes, that’s him,” Gage answers, shaking his head with disgust. “He cornered Amalia in Talton, and Rhys intervened. That’s how we came to travel together.”
I give Rhys a sideways look and add, “I told Rupert that Rhys was my intended.”
“Ah.” Kent looks unsure how he should respond to that, so he smiles. Sort of. “I thought you’d known each other…longer than that.”
It’s my turn to shrug.
“Well…anyway. Be careful over the pass. Storms often blow through this time of year, and bandits are fond of the mountains. No matter how many times Saulette’s guards raid their camps, they always seem to crop up again.”
“We’ll be careful,” Gage says, though he looks understandably concerned.
Bandits killed Braeton, after all. And for what? A little gold. They weren’t even bright enough to attempt to hold him for ransom.
My heart hurts just thinking about it.
“Guards also regularly ride the pass,” Kent assures us, his face growing solemn as he realizes the reason for the shift in our moods. “The road is considered to be fairly safe. It’s the weather you must be cautious of.”
“We’ll prepare accordingly,” Gage says. “I noticed there’s an outfitter in the main square. I’m sure he carries all we require.”
We finish our conversation and say our goodbyes to Kent. I wouldn’t mind his company, but I’m terrified Lestra is going to come looking for him.
The evening sun sets across the bay, making the water look like molten gold. Ember runs along the shore, darting in and out of the gentle waves and sending sand flying.
I walk with her, staying just far enough away I won’t get drenched every time she shakes seawater from her coat. Not far away, Gage sits on a boulder, writing a letter to Kess.
Rhys walks along the shore, heading our way. I watch him from the corner of my eye, hoping he won’t be able to tell that he has most of my attention.
He’s wearing his sleeveless leather doublet again, back to pretending he’s nothing but a common huntsman. I know better now. There’s far more to Rhys than that…even if he’s not ready to come clean.
“Have you eaten?” he asks when he joins me.
“Not yet.” I motion to my dog. “Ember needs to run before I leave her alone.”
This innkeeper has no qualms about letting my dog in the room, but he might not be so understanding if she chewed through the door.
Ember barks at several sea birds, her tail high and her ears at attention. She turns back when they scatter—like a child looking at her parents to see if they noticed the wonderful thing she just did. When she spots Rhys, she lets out a loud, happy howl. Then she runs in our direction, lowering her head as if she’s racing the wind.
Unable to stop herself in time, she runs past us and then loops back around, finally slowing her pace.
“She’s bleeding,” Rhys says, taking me by surprise.
I follow his eyes down. There are drops of bright red blood soaking into the sand. My stomach rolls, and I look away, terrified of how badly Ember might have hurt herself.
Rhys calls her over, kneeling on the ground. He wraps an arm around her back when she comes to him, holding her in place, and pulls up her front, right paw. “She cut it on something.”
I look down the shore. It could have been anything—a sharp rock, a shell.
“How bad is it?” I ask, pressing a hand to my stomach.
“Hmmm.” Rhys doesn’t answer right away, which makes my worry grow. “Bad enough it needs attention.”
Gage walks over as Rhys frowns at the dog’s foot.
“What happened?” my cousin asks.
Even though Ember is the size of a wolf, Rhys scoops her up as I explain the situation to Gage. Ember’s tail wags, and she wiggles in Rhys’s arms, elated to be carried like a puppy.
“Where are you taking her?” I ask.
The huntsman turns to me, frowning as if he doesn’t like what he’s about to say. “To your doctor.”
I scurry after him, the beach sand shifting under my feet, wondering if Kent will think it below him to patch up my dog.
“Go to your room,” Rhys says as soon as we walk into the inn. “I’ll find Kent.”
I begin to protest, but he raises a brow. “Unless you’re eager for a meeting with his sister.”
“She’ll be fine,” Gage assures me.
I stroke Ember’s fur, feeling like I’m deserting her.
Rhys meets my eyes, giving me a wry smile. “You trust me, don’t you?”
Pressing my lips together, I nod, letting him go ahead.
Gage hangs back with me. “Are you hungry?”
Shaking my head, knowing I won’t have an appetite until Ember’s wound is tended, I say, “Not now. I’ll wait until Rhys returns with Ember. Tell him I’m going to my room.”
I end up pacing the small space. I start a letter to my parents, and then I set it aside. I sketch a little, but I don’t finish that either.
Finally, there’s a knock at my door.
“Who is it?” I call.
Ember answers with her greeting howl.
I open the door, already smiling, and Ember trots in, favoring her newly wrapped paw. Rhys follows her inside.
“Thank you,” I tell him, realizing we’re alone once more, with only my dog as a chaperone.
“Kent says she shouldn’t walk long distances until it’s healed.”
“How long will that be?” I ask, realizing this will slow our progress considerably.
“He didn’t say. But he offered to take her in his carriage when he travels over the mountain.” Rhys then pauses, looking slightly irritated. “He said, yet again, that you’re welcome to join him as well.”
“Not when Lestra is with him,” I say. “I’ll miss her, but Ember will be fine with Kent. I’ll go with you and Gage.”
Though Rhys’s expression barely changes, he look
s…pleased. “That’s fine.”
I resist the urge to push him to admit he wanted me to ride with him.
“Have you eaten?” he asks.
I shake my head.
He starts for the door. “Would you like to join me?”
I smile when he turns for the door and follow him into the hall. “I suppose.”
24
“If you leave early in the day, you can easily make the ride to Shale by evening,” the man at the outfitter’s shop informs Gage and Rhys.
I wander while the men talk, looking at the various items the man has hanging from his walls—longbows and crossbows, along with various arrows and bolts and mounted animal heads. Barrels border the walls, filled with salted meats, a tea blend of deep red hibena petals mixed with dried berries, dark brown sugar crystals, salt, and more. Coils of rope in varying sizes lie on a table, and large coats of wool and fleece hang from an open wardrobe. Along with all that, there are pickaxes and hammers and tools I have no name for.
It’s fascinating. I’ve never seen a shop like it.
I come to a barrel of dried black beads about the size of a thimble. I take a closer look, wondering what their purpose could be.
Hundreds of tiny eyes stare back at me.
I yip, stumbling back.
The owner of the shop laughs. “Dried Calder beetles—they’re naturally high in fat. They could save your life if you find yourself stranded in the backcountry.”
I’d rather starve.
Skirting the barrel of beetles, I continue perusing the store.
“The road is wide and easy enough to travel,” the outfitter says, “but if a storm goes through, it might be days before you can pass. The ride is harder, and longer, but you can take the coast. The weather will be milder in the lower elevations.”
“If I can borrow a horse, I’ll ride to Shale tomorrow,” Rhys says to Gage.
I whip around. “Why are you leaving?”
And alone.
“To scout the condition of the main road,” Rhys says calmly. “I’ll return the day after tomorrow. By then, our horses should be here, and we can decide which route we’d rather take.”
“Why don’t you just wait, and we’ll all go when the horses arrive?”
Rhys turns back to the outfitter, ignoring me. “And bandits? What have you heard of them?”
The man shrugs. “There are always bandits in the mountains.”
“Another reason you should wait,” I say. “Alone, you’ll be an easy target.”
Rhys raises a brow, skeptical. “I’m not terribly worried.”
I want to grasp him by the front of his doublet and tell him that I’m worried, but that might not be entirely appropriate.
“Collette will probably let you borrow one of her horses—for a price,” the man says to Rhys. “She runs the stable.”
Rhys nods and turns to leave the shop. I follow him out, figuring Gage can fend for himself for a bit.
“You said you weren’t going to disappear,” I say the moment we’re outside.
The huntsman looks at me. “I’m not disappearing. I told you, I’ll be back the day after tomorrow, and then we’ll ride to Shale together.”
“You don’t need to do this. If the main road is unpassable, we’ll just turn back and wait until it melts. It’s a long trip to learn little.”
“Do you think you can stay out of trouble while I’m away?”
He’s not even listening to me.
“Tryndon went on ahead, didn’t he?” I demand. “He didn’t return, so the road must be fine.”
“I’m going, Amalia.”
“What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”
I’m aware I sound like a sulky child, but there’s more to this than just my reluctance at being left behind.
This conversation reminds me a little too much of my last with Braeton. Fear clutches my heart with its ice-cold fingers, making it hard to breathe.
I cross my arms and draw in a deep breath, willing the panic back.
Possibly confused by my sudden silence, Rhys looks over. I’m not sure what he finds on my face, but his brow knits, and he lets out a sigh that I’m coming to know means he doesn’t quite know what to do with me.
Taking my arm, he steers me down the street and into a narrow alley between shops. There’s a vegetable garden behind the buildings. The soil has recently been tilled, and the smell of sun-warmed earth is rich in the air. It’s a spring fragrance—at odds with the winter that’s taken residence in my chest.
“What’s going on in your head?” Rhys asks, his tone softer than usual. I like it—it makes me feel like I mean something to him, that we’ve passed the bridge between acquaintances and are now something like friends.
Friends who kissed under a vibrant artist’s sky.
The warmth of the memory chips at the ice in my heart, but it’s not enough.
“My brother was attacked by bandits while traveling. He died at their hands.” I meet Rhys’s eyes. “I don’t want you to meet the same fate. I know you’re brave, and you’re obviously capable of protecting yourself, but…” I press my hand to my heart. “I can’t shake the feeling something will happen to you, too.”
He’s too quiet, too still. I expect him to say something, anything, but he seems to be at a loss for words.
A tear runs down my cheek, both surprising and embarrassing me. Wiping it away with the back of my hand, I turn on my heel and hurry away.
“Amalia!” Rhys calls behind me, but I don’t stop.
25
I watch Amalia go, feeling helpless for one of the first times in my life.
Her pain is my doing. I am the reason for her tears, for her unfounded fear. If she knew who I truly was, she’d welcome my death.
She might gladly plunge the blade into my heart herself.
I lean against the side of the building and close my eyes, trying to block out the world. I need this brief separation. Not only will it give me the chance to speak with my men, but I’m becoming too attached to the princess. I need to remember where my allegiances lie.
Several minutes later, I push away from the wall and head to the stable to speak with Collette. I find her outside, running a yearling on a lunge line. The woman is older than I expect, likely a grandmother, and she has pulled her white hair up in a bun. She wears trousers, riding boots, and a jacket that looks like a man’s but was obviously tailored to fit.
I wait until she’s finished, not approaching her until she’s done exercising the young horse.
“Harry said I’d loan you a horse, did he?” she says after I introduce myself and tell her my purpose.
“For a fee,” I say, offering her several gold coins.
She accepts the money, nodding sagely. “I think I have one that will suit you, but you’ll have to leave something of collateral. I’ll give it back when you return.”
“Will this do?” I unsheathe my dagger and offer it to her. Normally, I’d never part with it, but it’s unlikely I’ll need it here in Renove.
The woman narrows her eyes at the unique blade. “Is that copper?”
I nod, frowning at the weapon Edwin gave me on my thirteenth birthday. The blade itself is steel, but a bladesmith etched it with swirling scrollwork and embedded molten copper into the design.
Though it looks decorative, it serves a purpose.
“This will do. Come see me tomorrow morning before you leave.” She walks toward the stable with the dagger. “I’ll have a horse waiting.”
I thank her and then head back to the inn, hoping to find Amalia. I don’t know what I’m going to say, but I don’t like the way we left things. I can’t leave without talking to her.
She’s not in her room. I walk the village and then head to the shore. I look for the princess for hours, but she’s nowhere to be found. Worry begins to work its way into my pace, lengthening my stride, quickening my pulse.
Near dusk, I find Gage. “Have you seen Amalia?” I demand.
> “She’s not in her room?” he asks. “When I saw her this afternoon, that’s where she said she was going.”
I shake my head, scanning the village street as if I expect her to turn the corner at any moment. “We had an argument, and now she’s gone. I haven’t been able to find her.”
Gage studies me, frowning. I have a feeling he knows where the princess is, but he’s not sure he should tell me. After several long moments, he jerks his head down the street. “If she’s upset, she’s likely in the stable.”
“The stable? I was there earlier, and I didn’t see her.”
“Did you check the empty stalls?”
“No…”
“If you want to find her, that’s where I’d look.” He walks away, leaving me gaping after him.
Shaking my head, I head back to the stable, though I doubt I’ll find Amalia there.
The building is quiet when I enter. The horses have just been given their evening ration of hay, and they chomp happily as I walk the aisles.
I pause when I see the princess sitting in a pile of fresh straw at the back of a stall. It appears I was wrong.
A barn cat lies curled in her lap, asleep. She rests her head against the wall, her eyes closed. There’s a stray piece of hay in her long brown hair.
Quietly, I open the door and walk in, kneeling in front of her like I did in the apple orchard. She doesn’t move.
“What is a princess doing sitting alone in the stable?” I say softly, almost certain she’s napping with the cat.
Slowly, she opens her eyes, meeting mine, giving me a strangely satisfied look—as if I’ve just confirmed something for her.
I lean forward and pluck the hay from her hair.
“How long have you known who I am?” She looks down at the fat orange and white tabby in her lap, running her hand along his back.
“Since we first met.”
She nods solemnly, digesting my answer, not looking terribly surprised. “Does that mean I get to know one of your secrets?”
“All right,” I whisper, though I’m terrified of what she might ask.
“Tell me something real—anything.”
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