by Donna Hatch
Kai crouched down next to the princess and touched her shoulder. “Princess, we need to leave now before we lose our chance.”
The princess raised her head.
“You can’t stay in Arden,” Tarvok added. “The whole country is teeming with Hanorans. Captain Darkwood will take you to Darbor.”
“Darbor?”
Kai nodded. “King Farai will protect you. You will be safe there.”
“What about the others?”
Tarvok spoke. “You are the last survivor of your family.”
The princess rose unsteadily to her feet and stared at him in clear disbelief. She looked from Tarvok’s solemn face to Kai’s and back again. Putting her hands on either side of her face, she closed her eyes and whispered, “No.”
“The rest of the living royalty were rounded up and executed publicly. Even the children,” Tarvok declared soberly.
She looked up at Kai, her eyes tearing again. “Everyone?”
“I’m sorry.” Kai could barely stand to look her in the eye.
“No, that can’t be.” Moaning, she slid down the wall and curled up in a quivering heap on the floor.
There was nothing either Kai or Tarvok could offer as consolation. This delicate creature who had lived her life among the plush riches and comforts of the palace, adored and pampered, was now forced to live as a fugitive, without even the necessities of life.
Once again, fury at Lord Alivan’s deception, and the underhanded victory of their enemies, rushed through Kai. The most beautiful city in all the kingdoms was in ruins. Countless innocent people and good, brave men had died, and for what? Kai resisted the urge to smash his fist through a wall.
“You’re hurt,” Tarvok observed, eyeing Kai.
Kai glanced down at the dark stains on his padded shirt, barely visible underneath his chain mail.
“It’s only a graze.”
“I’ll send for a healer.”
Kai looked through the shutters of the window at the lightening sky. “There isn’t much time. I’ll be all right.” He helped the princess stand. “Princess, we must go while we can still get away. If the Hanorans have a good tracker, they will find you here. We have to move on.”
She sniffled and looked up at him with childlike vulnerability.
Kai put a hand on her arm. “I will protect you and get you safely to Darbor.”
“Do you really think we have a chance?”
“I will use my last breath if I must, but I will bring you to Darbor unharmed,” he said with fervor. He exchanged glances with a grim Tarvok. “I’ll send you word when we reach Darbor.”
“I will keep the effort going.” Tarvok found a blanket and placed it around the princess’s shoulders over the cloak Kai had given her. “You are the last living member of Arden’s royalty. Our one hope. You are our rightful queen now.”
“Queen,” she whispered in disbelief.
Looking at this young, frightened, ragged creature, Kai understood her trepidation.
“Captain Darkwood will take you to safety until Arden can be regained. I will find anyone who can wield a sword and continue the fight. It’s not over, I promise you.” He bowed his head. “Your Majesty.”
The princess nodded and managed to reply with grace, “Thank you, Captain Tarvok. Your loyalty and bravery will be remembered.”
Tarvok removed his own cloak and handed it to Kai, and they clasped arms in a warrior’s handshake. Before emerging cautiously from the tavern, Kai checked in all directions. Braygo, who had been watered, fed, and rubbed down, was led back to his master.
Kai tossed a coin to the stable lad. “My thanks.”
The tavern shrank behind Kai and Jeniah as Braygo bore them toward Darbor. They rode in silence, listening for the sounds of enemy troops. All was mercifully still. Fatigue crept upon Kai, but somehow he kept himself upright and conscious.
The distant thunder of many hooves sent Kai into full alert. He reined Braygo to a halt and listened breathlessly to make sure, then urged the duocorn to a run until they reached a thicket, where Kai quickly dismounted and helped Jeniah to the ground. They hid in the densest part of the trees, hoping their tracks were not noticeable on the icy ground.
A regiment of Hanoran soldiers came dangerously close, but the riders galloped past without pausing.
Only when he let his breath out did Kai realize he had been holding it. He exchanged glances with the princess before they remounted. They rode hard while the sun crept slowly across the sky.
As the shadows deepened, Kai began looking for a place to camp. Before long, he found a cave.
“Great,” he muttered, “another cave.”
Leaving Jeniah on the duocorn, he briefly explored the cave and found that it was fairly shallow, yet deep enough to provide shelter, with a ceiling that rose many feet above his head. A common carnivore, fat from a summer and fall of gorging, hibernated inside. Kai remounted and doubled back several times before returning, hoping no skilled Hanoran tracker had found their trail. He listened with straining ears for sounds of pursuit. All remained quiet.
Kai slew the sleeping beast, then checked for further signs of danger. When he found none, he dragged the carcass outside. Sharp waves of pain knifed through his body but iron control kept him upright and moving. Though the cave was dry and relatively warm, Kai could see his breath.
After helping the princess dismount, he retrieved a blanket from his saddle and spread it out on a soft bed of dried leaves that had belonged to the former resident of the cave. The princess stood, staring blankly, and offered no resistance when he led her to the makeshift bed. She sank down on it wearily.
Kai brought his duocorn into the cave. “You were a brave warrior last night, Braygo.”
The animal nickered and nuzzled Kai’s neck as he untacked him and unloaded the saddlebags. Kai withdrew a firestick, snapped it open, and set it on the ground near the princess. Its radiant heat filled the small cave with warmth.
Though he had trouble keeping his eyes focused, he could not allow himself to rest until he made sure they would not be discovered. He went outside and buried the carnivore he had killed, lest it should attract other beasts. Favoring his injured left side, Kai cut a few branches from an evergreen tree and arranged them in front of the cave so it appeared as if a thick bush grew there. Then he stood back to survey his work. The entrance to the cave was difficult to see, even looking straight at it. He circled the area, pausing frequently and listening, but the forest was quiet. After erasing their tracks and laying out a powder that helped throw off the wyrwolves from their scent, he went inside.
Braygo lay down on the cave’s floor next to the princess, his slender legs tucked underneath him. In the semi-darkness, Kai kneeled down beside him and gave him a thorough rubdown, thanking the moons for Braygo’s invaluable presence during the battle and subsequent flight. Then, suddenly lightheaded, Kai leaned an arm against the cave wall.
“Princess, I need your help removing my armor.”
She moved like a sleepwalker but followed his instructions until they managed to remove the armor. After they were finished, she curled up in the blankets. Kai leaned against Braygo to try to absorb some of the warmth from the duocorn’s body. With the princess’s eyes upon him, he managed what he hoped looked like a reassuring smile.
“We’ll be safe here tonight, Princess. Get some rest. Braygo will alert us if anyone comes near.”
She nodded somberly and within minutes, sank into slumber. Kai listened for sounds of the enemy, but all was silent. He finally allowed sleep to overtake him. In his dreams, Hanoran soldiers swept the country, looking for the princess. The dream became a nightmare.
Chapter Eight
Jeniah woke slowly, aware at first only of a cold room and an uncomfortable bed. She opened her eyes. The dim light cast dark shadows in every corner. Instead of draperies around her bed and a large fireplace, she saw dirt walls with roots snaking along the sides. Stones littered the floor.
Th
is was not her room. She was inside a cave.
On the ground lay a smooth, round stick, broken in half. Both halves glowed as if made of hot coal. Jeniah studied the stick curiously. It was not a common stick from nature; it had been crafted. She hadn’t known such a thing existed, but then she had never slept outside of her bedroom with its well-tended fireplace.
A huge silver duocorn lifted his head and looked at her with soft eyes. He lay protectively close to a motionless form on the ground wrapped in a cloak. In the gloom, she recognized the shapeless form as Captain Kai Darkwood of Darbor.
Memory returned, and with it, a living nightmare that renewed Jeniah’s terror. Events unfolded of the night her life as a princess ended. Her family was dead. Her home lay in ruins. She hid in a cave. Hunted. Exiled.
Braygo watched her as he lay next to his master. Without the faithful mount, they surely would have been captured and she would be dead now. Like her family.
Jeniah thought of her home, her father and mother, her brother, her cousins, Mora who had served her for so many years, the shy stable boy, her faithful guards, Breneg and Ciath—all were gone. She was alone. Yet she’d cried so much, she had no more tears left to shed.
A soft moan drew the princess’s attention and she took command of herself. The dying ember-like stick on the cave floor softly illuminated the captain’s face. Sleep lent the fearsome Sauraii master a boyish appearance. One of the ladies in waiting in Arden had described the Darborian as “dangerously handsome,” but at the moment, he looked as harmless as a child.
As she watched him, her fears abated. He had risked all and beat terrible odds to keep her safe. Only a knight of his caliber could have protected her as he had. And now Jeniah must put her life, and the fate of her people, into the hands of a trained killer.
But he wasn’t a killer, not really. He was trained to defend. Still, could she truly trust a man who’d killed hundreds?
Her stomach gnawed at her with a hunger she had never before known. Her feet were freezing and she longed for a hot bath and a change of clothes. Miserably, she shifted upon her rough bed of grasses.
The captain stirred and opened his eyes, but when he tried to speak, he lapsed into coughing, wincing with each cough. Jeniah crawled closer to him. He was deathly pale, and when she touched his face, her fears were confirmed. He burned with fever. Alarmed, she began digging through his saddlebags until she found a water skin. She slid one hand underneath the captain’s head and supported it as she placed the water skin to his lips. He drank in gulps and then coughed again.
A line of dried blood caked one side of his face. She pushed back the hair on his forehead to find a deep cut barely outside the hairline.
“I don’t know much about healing, Captain, but I can clean your wounds.”
His mouth moved but no sound came out.
She needed something to use as a cloth. Her gown would do; it already hung in shreds, so a few more missing pieces would make no difference. As she reached down, she realized she wore two cloaks—hers and a much larger one that obviously belonged to a man. Touched, she glanced at the Sauraii.
She tore a few strips from her gown, then poured water on a folded piece of cloth and gently bathed the cut on his face. When she unfastened his cloak, she found a bloodstain high on his shoulder. Carefully, she peeled away his heavy padded shirt to examine the wound. He appeared to have been shot with an arrow or dart, but judging from the wound on his back above his shoulder blade, it had passed all the way through.
Jeniah cleaned the wound, trying to avoid hurting him. The wound bled at her touch but the captain did not complain; only his labored breathing betrayed his pain. Further down on his left side, she found a large tear in his padded tunic with a dark red stain. Jeniah widened the tear to find a much larger wound, still bleeding and surrounded by an enormous purple bruise. When she bathed it with the wet cloth, the knight flinched and let out a soft gasp.
“You need a doctor, Captain.”
He spoke with visible effort. “Can’t risk it.”
“I don’t know what to do for you.” Feeling helpless, she bit her lip. “Do you have any salve in your bags? Anything I can give you for the pain or the fever?”
“No. Just need rest,” he mumbled as he drifted off to sleep.
She repositioned his cloak until it fully covered him. Her eyes strayed to something tied to a leather thong around his neck. Careful to not disturb him, she picked it up. It was a narrow braid of golden brown hair. She glanced up at the sleeping warrior’s face as if answers lay there. Jeniah did not know the customs of Darbor, but in Arden, such a token only came from a lady whose regard was highly valued. Someone from his past? Or someone to whom he was returning in Darbor? A curious sadness settled over her at the thought of him loving another. But that was foolish. Of course he had a life and a family in Darbor. His stay in Arden had only been a temporary arrangement, and now he would return home to his loved ones. Jeniah pushed back the agonizing remembrance that she had no one waiting for her at home.
Her stomach complained again. With the captain injured, the task of locating something to eat fell to her. Inside the saddlebags she found a large tunic, which reminded her of the state of her clothing. She removed both cloaks and put on the tunic over what was left of her gown. After replacing the cloaks, she went back to the saddlebags. She found some dried meat, tough and leathery, but she ate a few strips, wrinkling her nose in distaste. There had to be something better. Perhaps something wild grew nearby. Parting the tree limbs that served as their door, she peeked out.
It had snowed the night before while they slept, covering everything in a thick, pristine whiteness. The early morning sun reflected blindingly off the snow. Shading her eyes, Jeniah scanned the area. Only a few hand spans away from the mouth of the cave grew a bush laden with seedpods.
“Ah!”
She listened cautiously for several minutes until she was certain that the forest was silent. She looked down at her feet and frowned. Too bad she had donned her slippers instead of having the foresight to put on her riding boots. Slippers would not protect her feet from the snow, but at the moment, her hunger overpowered her need for warmth.
She ran quickly into the freezing air outside the cave, grabbed as many seedpods as she could carry, and ran back. Her feet felt frozen, but she smiled triumphantly and kicked off her wet slippers.
Inside each pod were several large seeds. During winter festival, it was traditional to roast them over a fire as a special treat, although half the fun was the anticipation as they sizzled and popped. Jeniah wasn’t sure how filling they would be or how they would taste raw, but perhaps they would satisfy until she could get something more substantial.
She crushed the outer pods with a stone and picked out the seeds. After she ate them, she washed them down with water.
Her eyes were drawn to the slumbering captain. The light was better now, revealing how pale his face had grown. The cut on his forehead looked worse than before.
She touched his shoulder, gently waking him. “Here, Captain, have some more water.”
She placed the water skin to his mouth, again holding up his head so he could drink. Clearly, it was a battle for him to stay awake, and his blue eyes were ringed in shadow.
“Thank you,” he mumbled.
His strong, calloused hand dwarfed hers as he gripped her hand with surprising strength. A surge of tenderness for him washed through her and she touched his face with her free hand in a way that she hoped would be soothing to him. The captain closed his eyes and turned his head toward her touch. His breathing deepened as he went back to sleep. As she continued caressing his face, the barest hint of a smile touched his mouth as he slept. She never would have touched him, or even studied him so closely if he were awake, but now she took advantage of his state of unawareness. Jeniah let her hand travel down his face, exploring the planes and angles. A few stubbles of a beard had begun to grow on his chin and jaw, giving his chiseled, masculine beauty a
rugged appearance. He looked much the way he had appeared at their first meeting. The cut on the side of his forehead heartlessly marred his face in a vain attempt to flaw his handsome features.
She stroked his hair as Mora had done to her when she had been sick or hurt, while the other hand remained locked in his.
His fever climbed until the heat from his skin almost burned her hand. Finally, she withdrew her hand from his and gave him the last of the water. Her slippers were still wet, but she put them on and went back outside. Finding a clean pile, she pushed as much snow as she could through the narrow mouth of the water skin. Her hands and feet throbbed from the cold before she had filled the water skin and returned to the cave. She stepped out of her slippers, stripped off her stockings, and rubbed her feet vigorously until they warmed.
Outside, the sun sank and the forest hushed. The mournful wail of a wyrwolf sounded in the distance, and Jeniah realized how helpless she and the captain were. Would the wyrwolves find them? The captain’s enormous sword lay in its scabbard next to him, but she doubted that she could even lift the weapon, much less actually use it to defend the two of them.
When there were no further sounds, her fear dimmed and fatigue crept upon her. The strange stick ceased to glow, and the cave darkened, growing steadily colder until her breath came in white puffs. She hated to disturb the captain, but they needed warmth.
“Captain?” She touched his shoulder. “I don’t know how to make a fire.”
He could barely open his eyes. “Firesticks. In the pack. Snap it open.”
In the captain’s belongings, she found another stick like the one lying cool and gray on the floor and snapped it open. Immediately, the center sparked and began to glow like a hot coal. She set it down on the floor to avoid getting burned. A surprising amount of heat emanated from the firestick, which now glowed red. Her head whipped up at the sound of the captain’s voice.