I see its shadow first, creeping silently over the ground—smooth, like a cat’s. Lithe and confident. I try to think what kind of creature moves like that.
I don’t have to wonder for long. Before I know it, the figure is passing directly beneath me, and relief floods in as I see it’s just an ordinary boy, hardly older than myself.
He’s dressed in typical tracking clothes: brown leather jacket and boots. I can’t make out his face, shadowed beneath the brim of his hat. His steps are soundless, except for the tinkling of the bell, which I now see is attached to his right boot. The silver flashes in the moonlight.
I’m confused. Why would anyone want to be so loud, here? There certainly aren’t any bearcats around in these parts. Was he trying to scare something else off? Or did he actually want to be discovered?
Then I realize. It’s a trap. Frantically, I try to think what to do. Up here in the tree I’m safe, but Tui and Catriona—he’s heading directly for them. Is he being followed? Maybe he’s leading the other Hunters to them. I strain my ears for any clue that there are others, but all I hear is the muffled tinkle, now getting fainter.
Without considering the situation further, I slide out of the tree and silently track the boy, moving through the bushes, scanning around me for any sign of others nearby. But as far as I can tell, we are alone. I follow him for several minutes, staying far enough behind that he’d have no chance of hearing me. I’m frustrated to realize the boy is as silent and swift as I am. He’s quickly gaining ground toward our camp; it’s clear I’ll have to overtake him.
I dart to my right, well off the trail, running quickly and silently through the trees. The sound of his bell is dropping farther behind me. I cut back in toward the trail. This area is thick with shrubs and ferns, and I find an opening just off the trail where I can conceal myself. I hear his approach, step by step. I wait for him, my nerves calm, my breathing even.
I draw my knife and have it at his throat instantly as I drag him backwards into the ferns.
“Don’t make a sound!” I hiss. I tighten my grip around his shoulders and press my knife with a little more emphasis against his skin. He’s larger than I am, that’s for sure—at least a foot taller than me, strong and sinewy, with the build of a treeperson, like myself. But he doesn’t struggle. I sense that if he tried to fight me off, I doubt I would have the advantage. I feel his muscles relaxing under my arms and let him gently kneel to the ground. I loosen my arms slightly, but keep the blade of my knife firm. I can feel his heart pounding through his jacket.
For a handful of seconds I wonder what on earth I should do next. Curiosity overcomes me and I spin around so I'm facing him. I flick off his hat with the edge of my knife and place the point of it at his chin, all in one smooth motion.
I crouch in front of the boy, studying him.
He keeps his eyes trained down on the forest floor, his full lashes resting on his cheeks. The moonlight shines on his long golden hair, messily tied up at the nape of his neck. I can’t stop looking at his face, calm and peaceful. Nothing about it is threatening. And there's something else, but I can’t place it.
I have so many questions but can't seem to get any of them out. About why he was approaching our camp, far off the traveled route. About who he is. Where he’s going.
“Who … who are you?” I finally stammer out.
“Leif,” he quietly replies, still looking down.
My heart jumps in my chest at the sound of his voice.
“Look at me, Leif.”
“Yes, m’lady.” He immediately raises his eyes to look at my face. I study them for a moment, but then I blush. The way he’s looking at me is so unexpected, so completely foreign. I’m caught up in it for much longer than I want to be. Should be. Nobody has ever looked at me like that before. His eyes and face are soft. His vivid green eyes flash at me, even in the darkness.
Leif continues to gaze at me as if I’m a beautiful apparition, almost as if he were enchanted. I start to wonder if he thinks I’m a ghost. I shiver.
We don’t move for a few long moments. Then I have to ask: “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, your Highness Araroa. I am your servant.” He bows his head slightly, ignoring my knife still pressing into his neck.
I try to keep my voice calm at this news. “And why are you wearing a bell?”
He continues looking at me with that same mystified gaze. The corners of his mouth turn up a little. And then I understand. He wanted me to find him.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes, m’lady.”
I study his face. Somehow I sense he’s telling the truth.
“But there are others, not so far away,” he adds.
“Were you with them?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Do you plan to go back?” My eyes burn into his, pleading for the truth.
“No, m’lady. I am with you now.”
He has every reason to lie, but I somehow know Leif is a man of his word. His last answer was all I needed. I ease my knife away from his neck and re-sheath it.
“It’s cold and you must be hungry. Follow me.” I turn and walk smoothly out of our hidden spot in the ferns, back toward the camp. I hear Leif rise behind me, his hand snatching his hat back up. He’s soon following close behind me.
“Leave the bell. Please.” I order this in a voice I don’t recognize as my own.
Leif immediately bends down and unties the small silver bell from his bootlace, tossing it into the underbrush. We quickly continue on.
My mind is flooding with all the questions I want to ask him: Where are the Hunters now? Where did they think I was? How long was Leif with them? Why did he leave them? Where is he from? But as we walk, his pace matching mine, I sense I have plenty of time to learn the answers.
It also crosses my mind that if he’s up to no good, I’m giving him plenty of opportunity to take advantage of me. With my back to him he could easily snatch me away and drag me back to the Hunters. I suppose it’s a test, of sorts.
He passes the test easily, and soon we are back at camp. I have no sense of betrayal from him—quite the opposite. The protection I feel in Leif’s presence is almost overpowering.
I quietly coax the embers back to life, motioning for Leif to sit away from the others. He folds his legs underneath him and gratefully warms his hands near the flames. I gather up two mugs and nestle the pot of water in the fire to boil for tea.
I sit next to him, warming my own hands, and consider my first question. “How far away are they?”
“About a day and a half. But they’re heading east, toward the pass.”
“Why are they going that way?” I ask.
“Because they think you’re heading east”—his mouth turns into a half-smile and his eyes twinkle—“after you evaded them in Blackpool.”
“Why do they—?” Before I finish, I realize the answer to my own question.
“M’lady, you may want to continue on quickly. Winter will soon be upon us, and if the pass is closed, then they’ll know you didn’t travel that way.”
“Yes, that’s true,” I say. The tea is ready and I fill our mugs. We take small careful sips of the hot liquid, staring at the fire, neither of us sure how to continue.
“Can I make a suggestion?” Leif finally says.
“Of course.”
“You should get some sleep. I can keep watch if you like.”
I realize I feel more tired than I have in weeks. Tui and Catriona might think I’m utterly careless for trusting this stranger to watch over us as we sleep, but I can’t help feeling that Leif truly wants to help us.
“I think I will, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, m’lady.” Leif unfolds his long legs toward the fire and sets about warming his feet. He smiles.
I’m frozen by his gaze. Only when he looks away, the fire lighting his face as he takes another sip of tea, am I able to move back to my bedroll and crawl inside.
I watch the fl
ames as my eyelids grow heavy, wondering what I’m going to tell Tui and Catriona about our new guest. I can’t explain my belief in him, when there are so many reasons why he could be trying to ensnare me, to lead us to the Hunters and to my death. It’s unlikely they’ll feel the same about him.
Before I finally drift off to sleep, my last thought is: perhaps I am the enchanted one.
Chapter 9
After a few hours of deep, restful sleep, I wake up and tell Leif to take a turn. He gratefully accepts the offer of my blanket, and curls up facing the fire. He lays his head on his hat and falls asleep almost instantly.
I’m glad it’s still dark so he can’t see me staring at his fire-lit face—his eyelashes resting on his cheeks, his mouth slightly upturned in a satisfied smile. The sight of him feels so familiar, but I’m sure I’ve never met this boy before.
At dawn, Tui is the first to open his eyes. “Who the hell is that?” He leaps up, looking back and forth between the still-sleeping Leif, and me calmly waiting for the pot to boil.
“That’s Leif,” I say. “He’s going to be coming with us.”
“What do you mean? How do you know he can be trusted? Who is he?” Tui’s face is turning red, his voice rising.
Catriona hears the commotion. “Where did he come from?” she says, jumping up. She leans over his sleeping face for a closer look. “He is pretty cute. Nice find, Raven.”
“Stop it!” Tui says. “It’s probably a trap. He could be a Hunter. What were you thinking, inviting him over? We need to talk about this. In private.”
I put my hands on my hips and glower at him. I’m fuming. I knew they’d think I was crazy for bringing Leif here. But still—how dare Tui speak to me that way? Like I’m a child, unable to know who to trust on my own.
Tui pretends to ignore me and starts walking away; Catriona does too. Sighing, I follow them.
We stop when we’re out of earshot. I glance back at Leif, still asleep. Tui says, “Look, I’m sorry I reacted like that, Raven. I just don’t think we can trust anyone out here. Hunters are far too close for comfort. Where did he come from, anyway?”
I tell them how I’d heard him in the distance; about how I’d captured him and he’d immediately surrendered. How he’d been with the Hunters, but had promised to help us now.
“How do you know he can be trusted?” Catriona asks. It’s a fair question, and one I can’t answer. There is a long pause while Catriona and Tui wait, looking at me.
“I don’t know,” I finally say. “I just believe him.”
Tui shakes his head. “That’s not good enough. He could easily be a spy. He could get word back to the Hunters about our location.” He pauses, and a look of confusion comes over his face. “How did this Leif even know we were out here?”
I shrug. “I have no idea. We’ll just have to ask him. At the very least, he has information about where the Hunters are, and where they are looking.”
“Which is only useful if it’s true,” Catriona adds.
I try to ignore the doubt in her voice. “I know that. I can’t explain why I trust him, I just do.” My friends are right; I shouldn’t be trusting anybody, much less a boy who’s just deserted the King’s Hunters.
“I don’t like it,” Tui says again.
“I know, but you’re just going to have to trust me on this.”
Tui sighs, gives me one last look of warning, and turns to walk back to our camp.
Leif is awake. He’s made steaming mugs of tea, and he stands when he sees us approaching. A huge smile takes over his face as he hands a mug to me. “Good morning, m’lady,” he says, green eyes twinkling. “And good morning to you each as well.” He nods to Tui and Catriona, and offers his hand to Tui. “Leif Phineas. And you are?”
After a slight hesitation, Tui takes Leif’s hand and shakes it firmly. “Tui. Good to meet you. Can’t wait to hear more.”
Tui’s iciness doesn’t shake Leif’s friendly manner. “I look forward to telling you everything. And you are?” He drops Tui’s hand and takes Catriona’s as she introduces herself. Both accept the mugs of tea Leif offers.
“I’ve got something else for you,” Leif says to me. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a paper-wrapped packet. As he unfolds it, I gasp at the sight: a stack of chocolate biscuits. I start to reach for one, but Tui grabs my arm to stop me.
“Wait! Let me try one first,” he says.
Leif nods and passes him the bundle. Tui takes a small bite of one and his eyes nearly roll back into his head. “Oh my,” he moans, quickly finishing it off.
“They’re not poisoned, I assure you,” Leif says. To prove it he takes a huge bite of one himself, washing it down with a large slug of tea.
That’s proof enough for me. I take several of the biscuits and nearly inhale them. They are divine.
“Where did you get these?” I ask, my mouth still full of delicious chocolate.
Leif smiles proudly. “Fresh from the King’s kitchens at the Bastion. Delivered by supply troops but two days ago. If you want more, I’ve pilfered an entire pack’s worth. They’re hidden not far from where we met last night.”
Tui raises an eyebrow. “Really?” he says. “Let’s go get them then.”
We pack up our camp, ready the horses, and backtrack to where I first saw Leif late last night. Sure enough, he pulls out an enormous backpack from its hiding place in the bushes. Our mouths and eyes gape as he pulls out one delight after the next: rounds of cheese, crackers, apples, sausages, sweets. This may have been what finally won Tui over.
We feel like we could eat for hours, but we don’t. We sample some of the freshest food, then Leif packs everything away again.
Before we set off, Leif tells us what he knows of the group of Hunters he was with: they are a day and a half behind us, and are heading toward the main pass.
“How did you know we’d gone this way if the other Hunters didn’t?” Catriona asks. Her voice is still full of suspicion.
“Horse dung,” he says with a broad grin, green eyes flashing. He takes a big bite of the apple he’s holding before continuing. “The other Hunters noticed it too, and I told them I’d scope it out. When I returned, I said it had stopped—that whoever had left it must have turned around. That night, I filled this pack”—he pauses to heave it onto his back—“and I set out in your direction. I knew you weren’t far ahead, due to all the fresh, er, deposits. Luckily I was right.”
“And what about when they find you gone?” Tui asks.
Leif shrugs. “I don’t think they’ll even realize I’m missing for some time. I laid pretty low. Even so, we’d better get going, right? The more days between us, the better.” He reties his loose golden hair into a neat bun and places the leather hat on his head. He tips it at me and starts walking.
He’s right, and so we follow.
We’re riding along the river, Leif walking beside Pearl and me. He has no trouble keeping up, despite the weight of the food pack he’s carrying.
“I’ve never had a horse of my own,” he says, after pulling the stalk of peppermint he’s been chewing from his mouth. His words startle me; it’s as if he’s read my mind. “So I grew up walking everywhere. Papa and me, we’d travel on foot for days. It was just the two of us—Mama died when I was a babe. Papa’s a salesman. We’d carry his wares to the smallest villages, as far as we could. When we’d sold everything, we’d head back to the Bastion to restock. That’s where I grew up, officially, but most of my growing up was done on foot.”
“What did you sell?” I ask.
He hesitates, only a beat. “Anything we could. But the stories were free.” He looks up at me with another of those huge grins. It makes me catch my breath, as each one has before.
It takes me a moment to recompose myself. “What kind of stories did you tell?”
“Not me, my papa. He used to say his stories were a way to get in with his potential customers. He’d gather an audience round after dark, spin some incredible yarns, then they�
��d all be back in the morning with their purses. It was brilliant—worked a charm, every time.” He stops and looks up at the sky, considering what to say next. “I think, though … I think Papa just plain loved to tell stories. Sometimes, I think his sales were simply an excuse for him to travel and spin a yarn.”
I don’t say anything, waiting for him to go on. I sense he has a lot of stories of his own.
“To answer your question,” he continues, “Papa told a whole lot of different stories, some of them folk tales, some of them true. A lot of them made up. There was one story, though, that I remember him telling me ever since I was a young boy. It was always my favorite.” He pauses.
I glance down out of the corner of my eye and see he’s smiling to himself. “And that was?”
“It was more than one, really. He loved to tell stories about how our kingdom used to be, back before the Quellines.”
I feel my heart speeding up. “I know those stories too. My … my grandmother used to tell me ones like that before bed, when I was a girl.”
“About the Woman Kings,” he says softly.
“Yes.”
“Those were the stories that were true,” he says. “Although many people thought my papa was just making it up. They were too fantastical: freedom, beauty, peace and prosperity, for thousands of years. The Bastion was a thriving center of arts and commerce. And he’d have tales about each King. Let’s see: there was King Emerald, who was known for fantastic theatrical productions. King Fatima, who sent explorers over the oceans to distant lands. And the last, King Sione. She only held the throne for two years before her brother … took over.”
“And how did he do that?”
Leif looks up at me. “You don’t know?”
“No, I guess I don’t.”
“He took her head off,” he says with a sigh.
Miss Lilith had never told me that part, but I don’t doubt what he says.
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