She could see the questions in Gareth’s eyes, but—ever aware of her station—she knew he would hold them for a more private time. The three of them settled atop their horses and faced Frost and the two stable boys who’d assisted with the saddles and gear. Blaez sidestepped and shook his head, his silver mane shifting from side to side. Her anxious feelings were undoubtedly causing his unease.
“Speed of the goddess to you, Your Highness.” Frost lightly grasped the cheek strap of Blaez’s bridle to settle him and looked up to meet Kathryn’s gaze.
“Thank you, Commander Frost.” Kathryn looked to Rowan and Gareth, and they nodded their readiness to depart. She reached down, and Frost took her hand. “I’m trusting you with the safety of my kingdom, Frost.”
“I will not let you down.” Frost dipped her head.
“Nor I you.” Kathryn looked back at her mounted comrades. “Let’s ride.” She pulled away from Frost and allowed Blaez to set the pace as they passed beneath the stone arch of the main gates of Starford Keep. A fourth horse traveled with them, a large chestnut mare that, for the moment, carried extra gear. She would also carry Belstaff’s heir back to Olmstead if they actually managed to find him.
The dampness of the early morning air hovered close to the ground like a low fog. The thigh-high lush grass, wet with dew, lined the road as they crossed the grassy field that surrounded the castle. Within moments, they’d left the exposed open ground for the cover of the dense forest that surrounded her small walled village fortress.
Chapter Four
Aiden placed both hands against the cool, rough wall and tilted her gaze toward the high window. Stars against a black sky were all that she could see. Nightfall again. Frustration hung around her neck like a millstone. How many days had she been left to languish in this cell? Three? Or was it four?
Faye had been kind enough to bring the doctor and food on the first day. Since then, food and water had been delivered by one of the guards. Other than that, Aiden had seen no one, and she was no closer to getting an answer about her release. The guards never spoke or responded when she pelted them with questions.
She balled her hands into fists as she paced back and forth across the hay-strewn floor. When she got near the bucket in the corner where she was forced to relieve herself, she frowned and returned to the far side of the room. The small space was beginning to close in on her.
“Hey! I want to speak to the magistrate!” Aiden yelled through the small barred opening of the heavy door. No one answered. She pressed her ear to the opening and listened for any sounds. She heard nothing.
Getting more frustrated by the hour, she sank to the floor, propped up on a pile of straw. She rested her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands. Faye had brought enough water for Aiden to wash her face and hands the first day, but she hadn’t been able to truly bathe since. She was miserable, and she had the body odor to match her mood. She studied her hands, turning them over in the dim moonlight. They appeared otherworldly, pale and ghostly.
She rested her head back against the wall and willed herself to relax, to breathe. She was never skilled at meditation. This had been one of the daily rituals at the monastery, and one she had never mastered. She was easily distracted; she’d fidget and long to be outdoors. She heard her mentor’s voice in her head as if he were in the room with her. Brother Francis would sit next to her on the stone tiles of the chapel. They’d kneel facing the ornate emblem of a blazing sun that bore a woman’s face. The face of the goddess.
The creation myth, a poem of incantation was first sung by the goddess Amarigrin, and it began with I am the ray of the sun.
In the beginning, there was nothing but walled heat from the sun. Until the goddess sang her melody of creation from the place of unknowing, from the place where all things originated. Only then did the night fold over the stars. The land greened and curved as gravity bent the terrain. And then, in the head of mankind, she created the fire of thought.
Although no one knew exactly where the melody first rose, the myth was believed to point toward the mountain region that extended east to west bordering the great forest of Taiga. This was where the monks who kept the old stories, the old beliefs, gathered. Monasteries were constructed every hundred miles through the range, each with its reigning element. The monastery where Aiden had been raised, where the warrior monks trained, represented fire, the Brotherhood of Fire.
Aiden was never sure she belonged with the Brotherhood of Fire. For some unexplained reason, she’d always been drawn to wind. The sky at the horizon, the air of open spaces, the winds of change.
The lines of the ancient creation poem filled her mind. Aiden took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and repeated them silently as a meditation:
I am the ray of the sun
I am the wind that blows across the sea
I am the wave of the ocean
I am the fairest of flowers
I am a salmon in the pool
I am an idiot. She’d clearly learned nothing. Her training hadn’t prepared her for the real world. How could she be so stupid?
All she’d been after was a pint of ale and a warm meal. If only she’d had some gruff bartender instead of Faye serve her food she’d have never gotten in this situation in the first place. Look where flirtation had gotten her. Things had been so promising until Gabe showed up all grumpy and territorial. She released a long sigh and tried to think of something else to occupy her mind.
When she’d been lonely as a child, in the monastery’s orphanage, she’d sometimes lain awake at night and entertained herself by imagining adventures. She had envisioned herself as a knight, sword drawn, slaying mythical dragons or rescuing maidens. Or she had imagined herself a pirate sailing with a crew to foreign lands.
There were always young women in her fantasy adventures, damsels in need of rescue, romance, or whatever. That’s usually where the fantasy would hit a dead end because Aiden didn’t really know what came after the initial spark of romance. She’d never even personally experienced true romance. There’d been one young girl in the village near the monastery that Aiden saw every Saturday during the summer at the village marketplace around the central square. Their relationship never got past hello or a question about the price of an apple.
She’d been optimistic while Faye was flirting with her that she might finally find out what happened after hello, but instead, Gabe happened. And now she wondered if women might be more troublesome than she’d realized.
She shifted against the cold of the rough stone against her back, closed her eyes, and tried to mentally transport herself into one of her imagined adventures, an adventure without maidens.
Chapter Five
Kathryn watched the sparks rise as Gareth stirred the campfire, then turned her focus back to the map of the four kingdoms. Taiga to the north of the Arranth Mountains, Olmstead to the east, Belstaff to the south bordering the Abbasson Sea, and Fainsland to the west along the Oran Sea. And the Great Salt Desert in the middle, the site of an ancient inland sea long evaporated.
They were well into the kingdom of Fainsland, just south of the Theirry Foothills. They’d ridden the entire day after spending two days crossing the salt flats by wind ship. They’d almost had to set up camp in the dark, and still they were a day’s ride from Eveshom. But if all went well, they’d arrive with the cover of darkness and extract the potential heir with no resistance. She folded and stowed the map.
Was she being overly confident? Gareth thought so. He’d pointed out more than once that there might be others who’d received the message from Balak about the missing heir. He agreed with Frost that they should have brought soldiers with them, so why had he consented to come with her? He was watching her now with intensity as if he were trying to read her thoughts.
“What?” she asked.
“What do you mean, what?” Gareth threw one more stick of wood on the fire and leaned back into a reclined position.
“You want to say somethi
ng. I can see it on your face. Just say it.” Kathryn was amused that he ever tried to hide anything from her. His face was an open book.
“I think this is a wild goose chase.”
“By all means, don’t hold back your true opinion.”
“The notion that there is some missing heir to the Belstaff throne is a myth. You can’t convince me that if an heir truly existed Balak or someone else wouldn’t have located them by now.”
It was true. The stories of a missing heir had almost become folklore at this point. Yet for some reason Kathryn still clung to the hope that there was some truth at the root of the myth. She had been just a toddler when the King of Belstaff was killed in battle. As the stories were told, his queen was with child at the time, but no official announcement was ever made about a royal birth. Maybe the queen had feared Balak would harm the child. Knowing what she now knew of Balak that seemed plausible. Some believed the queen died in childbirth and the unborn heir with her. Some believed that that infant survived and was taken into hiding. But where?
There was some merit to what Gareth said. After all these years it did seem that if the legend were true, the heir would have surfaced by now.
Any royal born would carry the mark of their family crest as proof of kinship. A few imposters had tried to pass themselves off as the missing heir, but their ruse was uncovered when it was revealed that the ink used for the tattoo had no gold in it. Only the royals could afford ink infused with equal parts of twenty-four-karat gold.
“This may very well turn out to be another hoax, but even if there’s a slim chance that the heir is real, I have to know.”
“Have you thought about what will happen when we get to Eveshom?”
“Yes. I mean, I can’t possibly anticipate everything, but yes, I’ve thought about it.” Kathryn wasn’t sure exactly what he was getting at.
Rowan was watching the exchange between them from across the fire pit.
“What if this prince turns out to be someone you don’t expect?”
“Why do you both assume the heir is male?” asked Rowan.
That was an interesting observation. There wasn’t any particular reason to assume the heir was male. “I’m not sure. In my head I just picture a prince.” But Kathryn wanted to get back to Gareth’s original question. “Explain what you meant.”
“I meant, what if this prince, this heir, turns out to be a complete jerk? What if this heir turns out to be worse than Balak? I mean, they’re related. Right? What if bringing the heir back to Olmstead turns out to be a bad idea?”
“Leave it to you to imagine the worst, Gareth.” Rowan spoke up from across the flame.
“I’m a realist.” Gareth sipped from a flask and offered it to Kathryn. She declined. “I just want Kathryn to be prepared if this guy turns out to be a disappointment.”
“I’m prepared for that.”
“I hope so, because I might turn out to be psychic.”
Rowan chuckled. “That would be special indeed.”
“Hey, I have my moments.” Gareth leaned back on his elbow and grinned, the light from the fire catching the white of his teeth in the darkness. He was a handsome man. It was too bad he couldn’t seem to settle down with anyone, and Kathryn could never feel for him the way he’d wished she had.
Kathryn relaxed under her cloak, using her gear bag as a pillow. She watched the embers of the fire and thought about what Gareth had said. It was true that she was optimistic about this missing heir, hopeful even. If he turned out to be even half of what she hoped he’d be, then she was willing to commit troops, supplies, and advisors, whatever it took to see him assume his rightful place on the throne of Belstaff. Whoever he was, he couldn’t possibly be worse than Balak.
But the entire endeavor was just a big gamble.
If this missing heir turned out to be worse than Balak or even as bad as Balak, then she’d be crushed. She’d try to hide it from the others, but she would feel defeated. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of wishful thinking she’d allowed herself to imagine some union with this heir, either through marriage or treaties of alliance. She’d consider it for the sake of Olmstead. Then her lands would be protected.
If marriage was the only option, could she go through with it? She wasn’t sure. She’d always dreamed she’d marry for love and nothing less. But as the threat of invasion loomed, she was willing to consider every option.
She closed her eyes and tried to redirect her thoughts. She willed herself to call up memories of happier times, her birthday the year her father had given her Blaez. She’d just turned twenty-one and her whole life lay ahead of her. Kathryn knew her father had a tendency to spoil her, and she’d let him. She mourned the loss of those carefree days.
Chapter Six
A scuffling sound from outside the cell made Aiden jump. She’d heard nothing for hours and couldn’t see what might be going on outside her cell door now. She stood in the center of the room, straining to identify the noises, hopeful but also a bit scared. Muffled voices were followed by a loud banging sound, like metal striking metal. Not good. Aiden stepped farther away from the door, tensing at the sound of footfalls. Was she their target? She didn’t even have a weapon to defend herself.
The bolt slid noisily sideways, and the heavy door swung open. A woman stood backlit in the doorway. She was stunning, despite the fact she raised a crossbow and looked as if she wanted to skewer Aiden. She tossed back the hood of the cloak that fell just past her knees to reveal long golden hair gathered into a clasp just above the collar of her shirt. Two others, a woman with dark hair and a bearded man, slipped around the woman and into the room. The man’s sword was drawn as if he expected Aiden to fight him. She raised her open palms to show them she was unarmed.
She returned her attention to the blonde standing in the doorway. The look on her face telegraphed fierce determination, but everything else about her was soft and feminine.
“Take off your shirt and turn around.” The blonde commanded.
“What?” Aiden’s throat was dry, and it made her voice sound lower than normal. The woman issuing orders had girlish hips visible within the draped cloak and the trousers she wore cinched at her slender waist with a wide belt. A snug-fitting bodice of dark leather was laced tightly over a light colored blouse, which was open at the neck to reveal a hint of cleavage.
“The lady asked you to take your shirt off. Do it.” The man, standing to her left, raised his sword and brought the blade close to Aiden’s throat.
Aiden lifted the loose, slightly tattered shirt over her head. She stood bare-chested before them. The only light in the room came from the moonlit high window and the small lantern the dark-haired woman held aloft to illuminate the chamber.
Kathryn lowered the crossbow and stared. “You’re a woman.” Even in the low light and despite the boyish physique, she could see that the person standing shirtless in front of her was female.
“Thank you for noticing.” The prisoner frowned and held her shirt up to cover her small breasts.
“I need to see your shoulder.” Kathryn stepped closer, but allowed Gareth to keep his sword trained on the captive. Kathryn wanted to see the mark for herself. She motioned for Rowan to bring the light near. She was after truth, not rumor.
“She has the mark,” Kathryn said unnecessarily as both Gareth and Rowan stared, too. The flecks of gold imbedded in her skin sparkled in the lantern light.
“It’s a birthmark. Can I put my shirt on now?”
Kathryn was surprised. This person appeared to have no idea who she was. How was that possible? “I’m sorry. Yes, you can.”
“Who are you people?”
“I’m Kathryn. This is Gareth and Rowan.” Kathryn pointed to each of them as she said their names. “And you are?”
“Aiden.”
“Aiden.” Kathryn echoed her name barely above a whisper. She took a step back.
Kathryn was struck by how beautiful Aiden was. Her face was elegant, her features refined i
n contrast to her lean, muscled body and broad shoulders. Aiden had dark, unruly hair and blue eyes the color of the sea in full sunlight. Clearly, she’d been in captivity for several days. Her face was smeared with dirt, and bits of straw clung to her clothing and her soiled shirt. Under all the grime, Aiden was a magnificent specimen androgynously regal. And even in her disheveled state, she had a presence about her that fairly pulsed against Kathryn’s chest. She took another step back.
“We should go.” Gareth checked the chamber hallway, his sword still drawn but now held at his side.
Aiden slipped on her shirt and stared at the three visitors suspiciously.
“Aiden, we’ve come for you. To aid you in escape.” Rowan supplied the answer to Aiden’s unspoken question.
“But how did you know I was here? I don’t even know you.”
“We will explain everything once we leave Eveshom. We need to move before someone discovers we’re here.” Kathryn stepped out of the room as if she expected Aiden to follow, but Aiden stood frozen.
Kathryn shifted back to the door of the cell. “Are you coming, or would you rather stay here?” There was the slightest hint of impatience, or possibly sarcasm.
Aiden shook her head. “No, I definitely don’t want to stay here.”
Chapter Seven
Aiden stepped over the unconscious guard, and spotted her things in a small side chamber as they headed down the dim hallway. She retrieved her satchel, but her sword was missing.
“What’s wrong?” Rowan joined her in the small room.
“My sword. It’s not here.” She checked inside the bag for the small leather purse of coins. That was gone too.
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