I didn’t think I could take a single step, but my stomach got my feet moving toward the inn. Then a dark shape stepped in front of me, and I skidded to a stop.
“Tonight we train, Princess.” Master Hafa stood there stoically with his hand on the hilt of his sword.
All the excuses inside me died along with my hope for a warm fire anytime soon. I’d forgotten that my father had said Hafa would train me with my sword.
What was left of the day was fading fast. Yet if this was the price for riding, I’d pay it. He led me around the roundhouse to a small pen for horses. The whole thing was mud.
I placed my fist on the opposite shoulder and bowed respectfully. I reached for my sword, but Hafa shook his head.
“We will wait to train with that until we are farther from Hálenborg,” he said as he picked up two wooden practice swords from where they leaned against the fence, handed them both to me, and gestured to the makeshift ring.
Farther from Hálenborg. Even here, the farthest I’d ever been from the castle, the burned note followed me. And the lack of trust among my father’s advisors. Would that distrust extend all the way to Turia?
I delved inside for my tethers. Ren’s was strong and steady, an anchor as always. Distance had rendered my father’s tether duller, a murmur of what it usually was. But he was safe. He was well.
I shrugged off my cloak and overcoat, unbuckled my own sword, and gingerly set these to the side. Master Hafa sent two guards, Geoff and Melsa, into the ring. I’d fought them both before, beat them both. But never at the same time.
My opponents adjusted their stances, moving to the balls of their feet and assessing me. I assessed them in turn when I joined them. They came forward, and I went back, matching them step for step in the deep muck of the field. My legs were already trembling. But Master Hafa’s words reverberated within: In a real fight, the goal is to end it as soon as possible.
The ache in my body kept my mind from falling into focus. I paced the perimeter, keeping my wooden swords ready and my attackers at a distance. I needed to disarm one, or somehow get them so close together that they would trip themselves up.
My back brushed against a rough fence. Before I could move away, I felt something hard being tucked into the back of my trousers.
My lips twitched. Both attackers started toward me. Instead of engaging, I took two quick steps to the side, then threw one of my swords at Geoff’s shoulder with a grunt.
“Whoa!” He lurched in the other direction but managed to reach across his body to knock my sword away. Before it had even hit the mud, I gripped the wooden dagger that had been slipped into my waistband and launched it at his hand. Geoff dropped his sword and fell backward into the sludge with a shout.
Melsa ran at me, swinging her blade at my chest. I blocked her attack and twisted, swiping her feet out from under her and pressing my remaining sword to her throat.
Mud dripping from my knees, I looked up in triumph at Master Hafa, but he only scowled at me, his steel-gray eyes flashing.
“Jennesara, you cannot cheat in real battle. And Atháren”—he turned to address my brother, who was watching us with a grin—“you will not always be there to help your sister. Both of you, run to the river and back!”
“But,” Ren started, “it’s nearly dinner—”
“Twice,” Hafa said, ending the debate.
Ren clamped his mouth shut. I tossed my practice sword to Geoff and took off. A frigid wind sliced through my wool shirt and burned my lungs. But as punishments went, running wasn’t so bad.
By the time we had returned, the sun had set and we were both covered in mud and sweat. But my legs and back didn’t hurt quite so much. We hadn’t spoken much during our run, but the bittersweet feeling coming through Ren’s tether told me enough. This would be the last time we’d run together like this.
When we entered the tiny roundhouse, most of our party was lounging on cushions, eating and playing games. The noise of so many people crammed into such a small space rang in my ears. Ren sat with Cris in a circle of guards between the fire in the center of the room and the door. I sat next to Aleinn near the fire and slurped up a meaty stew; it was simple, but better than I’d had in ages.
I surreptitiously watched everyone, intrigued yet overwhelmed by how easily they laughed and spoke with each other. This kind of casualness, I’d never seen. In the palace, formality ruled, a precise respect. But out here…everyone was relaxed. I liked it.
* * *
I didn’t dream that night. When it was full dark a shot of anticipation coursed through me, and I jolted awake. I stayed still. Aleinn’s elbow was sharp in my back.
My focus tightened on the tethers. My father was calm. Asleep, probably. Ren fairly bounced inside me. I didn’t need the low embers of the fire to pick out his movement through the room as he and five guards snuck their way to the door.
Once they’d gone, I eased away from Aleinn, tucking the blanket tight around her. I stood under the front eave of the doorway and watched as Ren and his men gathered their horses and moved silently around the inn, ghosts in gray uniforms leading black demons through the night.
A rustle of clothing sounded behind me. Cris brushed by on his way out of the roundhouse, his pack over his shoulder, the last of the group. I reached out, grabbing his arm. The contact sent a shiver through me, but I held tight. He gazed down at me, his normally bright eyes now shadowy caverns in the night, jaw tight.
“Look out for him, Cris,” I whispered. “Keep him safe.”
Cris’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, but his arm relaxed under my grip. “I will.” He swallowed hard enough that I could see his throat move.
Ren spotted us and jogged over. Cris nodded farewell and went to ready his horse.
“It’s almost time.” Ren put his arm around my shoulder, but his attention flitted between me and the men he’d be traveling with.
“I’ll miss you,” I whispered as a shudder coursed down my spine. The evening’s chill was seeping through my sleep-warmed layers.
Ren’s arm tightened as he leaned his head against mine. “I’ll miss you too, Jenna.”
“Be safe. Come home.” My breath hitched on the last word, before I ducked my head.
“I promise.”
He kissed my forehead and pulled away first, knowing I might never let him go. He didn’t say anything more, just brushed his knuckles under my chin—chin up, Jenna—walked to his horse, mounted, and rode into the night. Just before he passed through the inn’s gate and out of sight, he turned, waved once, and touched his hand to his middle.
I turned my focus inward and reached for his tether. His hope, his excitement, his worry, and, most of all, his love for me flowed in like warmth and pure light—a farewell stronger than any words would have been.
When he’d blended into the darkness, I touched the small rectangle in my pocket, brushing the soft cover of the little book. I hoped Ren’s parting gift would be more interesting than useful.
Branches screeched against each other at the edge of the property, and I worried that wouldn’t be the case. I’d heard tales of the Wild: how it spit out anyone who tried to leave the road and traverse its depths. Or, worse, how the few who’d managed to enter it had never returned.
A deep breath calmed my fluttering pulse. We’d stay on the road. We’d be safe.
Four more days through Hálendi’s villages and fields. Four through the thinnest part of the Wild. Three to Turiana. Eleven days to the prince—and to the library where I would find my answers.
In the Throne Room
The laugh lines etched around the king’s eyes and mouth were faint, unused in recent years. He sat surrounded by gilded smiles and too much wine and the faintly metallic scent of rotting fish that had invaded his palace yet again.
The unyielding stone of his throne bit into him d
espite the cushions he replaced monthly. Yet he didn’t lower himself from his dais, didn’t partake in the revelry of his court. Instead, he watched from his rightful place. From above.
A door opened at the side of the hall, and the king’s hands clenched. Advisor Blaire scurried across the throne room, robes twisted in his fists, a sheen of sweat glinting in the dim light filtering in through grimy windows.
Blaire was a man who might have been handsome once, but he’d spent too long giving in to the desires of others, losing too many pieces of himself over the years. He was also shorter than the king, which was part of the reason he had been chosen as an advisor—the king didn’t have to be sitting on his dais to look down at him.
Blaire bent at the waist in a deep bow when he reached the edge of the platform. Too deep.
The king’s beady eyes narrowed, and the lines around his mouth intensified. “Well?”
“Your Majesty, I am afraid—”
“You said you could reach the mages, Blaire,” he said, his voice dangerously low. The king took a controlled breath and looked down at his fingernails digging into his palm.
“One messenger has returned from the Ice Deserts.” Blaire bowed his head. He wiped his sweaty hands down his robe. “But only one. And he is…”
“What?” the king snapped.
Blaire swallowed. “He is unfit to be summoned to the throne, Your Majesty.”
The king looked up, his gaze calculating and measuring. A smile stretched across his face. “Well then.” He rose from his throne and nodded to the servant. “Take me to the messenger.”
General Leland was far from pleased to wake up to the prince heir and six of his men missing.
“Why would Shraeus command such a thing? It isn’t safe.” He paced at one end of the room, refusing to take a letter that Master Hafa was calmly holding out.
Most of the men and women had scattered to finish their preparations in the cool morning, rather than risk Leland’s wrath. But I stayed, rolling up my sleeping mat as my insides rolled tighter as well. Not even Leland or Hafa knew of the plan?
I tied off my mat and closed my eyes, focusing on my father’s tether. No spikes, no more worry than usual. Exhaustion dulled the edge of Ren’s excitement, but nothing alarming there, either. I blew out a long, slow breath and stood.
“He says it was imperative Ren return right away,” Master Hafa explained for the third time.
Leland glared at him. “We could send you after them.”
“King Shraeus specifically asked me to stay with the princess.” Hafa glowered back. “And you know Hálendi can’t afford any delay.”
I ground my teeth and yanked yet another knot into the strip of leather around my mat. The dying fire popped in the oppressive silence as they glowered at each other. My father had planned Ren’s departure like this for a reason. I couldn’t let Leland intervene, no matter his good intentions.
My heart picked up speed, and I stood, brushing the dust from my hands. “Cris will watch out for him.”
Leland stumbled over a fur someone had left in his path and stopped his frantic pacing, hands on his hips, facing the wall. He released a huge breath and turned to face Hafa. “We have our orders. We continue on.”
Hafa jerked his head in a nod, but the tension between them didn’t quite dissipate. I hoped my father had been right to send Ren away in secret.
* * *
The crisp spring air warmed as we continued south. The grass poking out of the snow appeared green now instead of yellow, and the road had turned to mud. Then the rolling hills, filled with sheep and cattle, shifted into forest. It was early in the season for most travelers, and any that we did pass were wary of our large party of warriors and servants.
Leland led the way, still fuming and snapping at anyone who drew his eye. Hafa’s perpetual scowl burned a hole in my back the entire morning. Everything ached.
When the sun had reached its peak, we stopped in the middle of the road for our noon meal. Tall evergreens bordered either side, and big black birds assessed us from the branches while tiny squirrels chattered nearby.
I watched from afar as several people gathered small sticks and hewed logs, digging a small pit and lining it with rocks faster than I could ease my weary bones down to sit. The small bush growing next to me held tiny white flowers and a type of little red berry I’d never seen.
I pulled my book out of my pocket, reaching out for the tethers again. I’d lost track of how many times I’d checked in on my father and brother, but both were well, and the connection was still there, despite the distance between us.
I flipped through several pages, seeing if I could identify the plant, but my stomach rumbled, and I gave up searching through the tiny words and intricate pictures.
As I plucked a handful of berries from the branch, Hafa’s foot connected with my wrist. Not hard, just enough to startle me into dropping them.
“I wouldn’t touch those if I were you, Princess.”
I shook out my hand. “Why not? They’re beautiful.”
He grunted. “Because those beautiful berries are poisonous.”
I brushed every remnant from my palm and scooted away. “How can you tell?”
He pointed out the leaves, the color, and the clustering of the berries. “It’s common sense,” he muttered, and though I don’t think I was meant to hear, I did.
My fingers tightened around my book. “It’s not common sense to me.” The words came out before I could stop them. Hafa raised an eyebrow. I swallowed and continued. “I only have ten days, Master Hafa,” I said, a hint of the panic I was trying to keep suppressed leaking out.
His lips pursed into a thin line; then he let out a gusty sigh. He sat down, all grace and power, resting his forearms on his knees. “Being in the wilderness is exactly like a sparring match. But the opponent is Nature, and she’ll kill you the first chance she gets. So pay attention to your surroundings.” He studied me a moment, and I wasn’t sure what he saw, but he called out to a small group of soldiers, who came to sit with us.
As the others settled, my already aching back stiffened. A rock was poking into my leg, and I was pretty sure half of my backside sat in a puddle. None of the men or women changed their demeanor even though I was part of the circle. They threw themselves to the ground, laughing about a story they’d been halfway through when Hafa had summoned them.
“And when I turned around, a giant bear sat right there on his haunches in front of the river, watching me undress!” The man telling the story—Thomas was his name—finished with a roar of laughter that echoed through the trees.
The others joined in while pulling out their meals from their saddlebags. A squirrel shrieked above us, and a shower of dirt and pine needles coated me. My bags were still on Gentry. I bit my lip, but as I looked down the road to where the horses were being fed and watered, I saw that someone else was taking care of her.
Story time halted while everyone’s mouths stayed busy with the food. Except mine. Aleinn was preparing my meal near the front of the group, and suddenly I didn’t know what to do with myself.
I cleared my throat and scooted out of the puddle. “What happened next?” I asked.
Thomas blinked a few times with a furrowed brow, his cheeks stuffed with bread.
I cleared my throat again. “With the bear, I mean.” My eyes darted around the group. Everyone stared at me, the various bits of half-chewed food in their mouths seemingly forgotten. “How did you get away?”
Thomas swallowed his too-big chunk of bread with a wince. His eyes flicked to Hafa, who nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Well,” he started, leaning forward. “The thing about bears is they don’t like to be startled. So I did what any grown soldier would do.” He paused, and a few snickers rolled along the edges of the circle. “I screamed like a new baby taking his first breat
h and jumped into the river. The poor bear leapt up and ran off into the forest.”
“Aw,” said Kels, a woman to my right. “You mean the poor bear startled at the sight of you in your bare skin. You probably blinded her.”
Laughter erupted from the guards, echoing and returning again and again. Kels leaned forward. “Listen, Princess. Most animals don’t want to be bothered by the likes of us. If you make enough noise, they’ll stay away.”
The tightness in my back eased a little. “What about at night? We can’t exactly keep making noise in our sleep.”
Thomas guffawed. “You can if you’re Kels. She snores like—”
She shoved him, but both were smiling.
I asked question after question as we ate. My cheeks heated when Aleinn brought my meal, which was a good deal more robust than theirs, but they didn’t complain or point it out. Somehow, I was now part of their group.
Just as we were getting up to go back to our mounts, Hafa touched my shoulder. He stared into the dense foliage across the road, and I followed his gaze. It took me a moment, but eventually I picked out what he’d seen. A mother deer, her ears perked up, watching us right back. And at her feet, her fawn staggering with spindly legs as he ate up the new spring grass.
Everyone else hurried to get ready before Leland’s whistle—he was still mad about Ren leaving. But just beyond the edge of the road, I’d caught a glimpse of another world. One untouched by villagers or traveling caravans.
For the rest of that afternoon, after I’d loaded my own bags back on Gentry’s saddle, I kept a sharp eye for another glimpse into that world.
* * *
By evening, my muscles had congealed into mush from riding two days in a row. When Aleinn jumped down from the carriage, ready to assist me as usual, I’d already unloaded my bags from Gentry and had started hauling our tent to the place Leland’s captain had pointed out at the side of the road.
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