Just as I finish setting the mugs and silverware around the table, Leif and Tui come back inside. A tall, thin man is with them. They all stand stamping and rubbing their arms for a minute, then quickly take their boots off and walk toward the fire.
“Cold out?” I ask.
“Colder than ever.” Tui chatters his teeth with exaggeration. “But you should see the barn. It’s the nicest I’ve ever seen! There’s even a wood stove out there.”
Leif motions toward the tall man. “Raven, Catriona, this is Mr. Mulberry. He treats each of his animals like family. I think they do indeed have the nicest accommodations in the kingdom.”
The man grins at us proudly, warm eyes twinkling. “Aye, I believe we do! When you treat your animals kindly, they’ll treat you the same.” He sits in front of the hearth and rests his feet on the sheepskin rug. “It’s good to meet your friends, Leif. I hear you’ve all come a long way.”
“That we have,” I reply. “We have a long way to go, too—”
Just then the door bursts open, and what appears to be a herd of children rushes in. Their parents follow. This must be Jude and his family. Mrs. Mulberry appears again from the kitchen with an enormous roast mutton on a tray. She sets it down in the middle of the table and calls out, “Supper’s on!”
Leif follows her back into the kitchen and re-emerges with a huge tray of roast potatoes. He sets it on the table then pulls out a nearby chair and stands behind it. He nods at me across the room. “Raven?”
I smile back at him and walk over to sit in the chair he’s holding for me. He helps me scoot it back in, then sits down next to me.
It’s a small gesture of kindness. Quite ordinary. But for some reason I can’t stop my heart from fluttering. Throughout dinner, I’m only able to attend to the conversation around me with half a mind. The other half is thinking about how my heart should not be fluttering. This is not the time for that sort of thing.
The meal is delicious; the best I’ve eaten in weeks. I push the last two roast potatoes around on my plate, trying to decide if I can fit them in my belly after all I’ve eaten. That’s when I feel my scalp prickling.
I look up to find Jude staring at me from across the table. His face is stern, not friendly like his father’s. We lock eyes for a time.
It’s a relief when he speaks. “Where are you from, Raven?” His voice is drenched with suspicion, sending my heart pounding.
I don’t hesitate or drop my eyes. “I was born in the Bastion, but grew up near Greenhollow. I’ve lived with my cousin Catriona here and her family since I was very young. Since my mother died. It’s very kind of Leif to help me get back to my father. He’s still in the Bastion. My grandfather died recently, you see, and I need to go help him out.”
He doesn’t answer right away. But then he slowly nods and his face softens slightly.
“I do see. That’s very thoughtful of you,” he replies. His voice is warmer, but his face tells a different story: he doesn’t believe me at all.
I give him the biggest, warmest smile I can muster. If he doesn’t believe me, well, there’s not much I can do about that.
“Jude, tell me about your family’s sheep,” Tui interjects. “Sagegate wool is legendary—what’s the secret?” He’s sitting on Jude’s left, and I can tell straight away that he was listening in on our exchange and is attempting to change the subject. Sagegate wool certainly isn’t legendary. We’ve never heard of the place.
But it works. Jude goes into an endless description of the family’s sheep history, their breeding and care. I try not to laugh out loud at Tui’s attempts to look interested.
I’m grateful when Meg rises to start clearing dishes, and eagerly lend a hand.
Leif also stands, and snatches the plates from my hands. “It’s been a long day, Raven. Go relax by the fire. I’ll help with these,” he says.
“I’m happy to help, though.”
“I insist.” His eyes flash emerald in the dim, fire-lit room, and bore straight into mine. I’m helpless to argue. I nod in thanks and head back to the warm fire to stretch out.
My eyelids grow heavy as my body works to digest all that I’ve eaten. I jump when I hear Catriona’s voice at my side.
“People might start to notice when you don’t have to lift a finger,” she says. Her voice is full of disapproval. It hasn’t escaped my notice that she’s been helping with the dishes alongside Leif and Tui.
I know she’s right and shrug. “Leif insisted.”
“Of course he did.” She sits down so she can speak directly in my ear. “Look, do you really think it was by chance that he found us where he did, when he did? Don’t you think it’s all a little bit … questionable? And now he’s led us to this tiny village, where there’s pretty much no way out? We might be stuck here for the winter. Besides, I asked Mrs. Mulberry more about the crossing at dinner, and she said it’s likely the mountain is completely impassable until spring.”
I think about this for a time. It might be true that we won’t be able to get out of Sagegate for many months. But I still have no doubt that Leif brought me here because it’s the safest place to be. How can I explain this to Catriona? How can I explain that I trust this strange boy completely, with no logical reason for doing so? I can’t.
“We’ll talk to the Benfords in the morning, then we’ll know exactly what our options are,” I say. I stand and walk to the kitchen to help Mrs. Mulberry with dessert and tea.
By the time we’ve finished our apple pie, I can’t keep my eyes open and bid everyone goodnight. Leif, Catriona, and Tui do the same and we walk out to the large red barn. The night is pitch dark, but the barn’s doorway is easy to find, with a lit oil lamp hung by a small side door. Leif grabs the lantern off the hook and steps inside. We climb the ladder to the loft and I run over to one of the cots along the wall, kick off my boots, and flop down onto it. My body sinks into its wool-filled softness, my head on a feather pillow.
“You weren’t kidding about this being the most luxurious barn around,” I say to Leif. He’s hung the lantern on a wall hook and is sitting on the cot next to mine, smiling over at me in that goofy way of his. I don’t need the quilt on top of me as I am plenty warm from the heat of the wood stove and of the animals, which make soft noises below us.
He takes off his boots and lays back on his cot, stretching his arms and legs out like a star. I watch out of the corner of my eye and see his feet are nearly dangling off the end of the cot.
“Mmmm,” he mumbles as he tucks his arms behind his head. I watch him wiggle his toes, stretching out each one. Suddenly he turns on his side, so he’s looking right at me. His golden hair is loose, splayed across his pillow. “You’re safe here, you know. I’d never lead you anywhere you weren’t.” He’s not smiling now. His face is full of sincerity. I’m more than taken aback—there’s no way he could have heard what Catriona said to me earlier in the evening. Had she said something to him?
I roll over onto my side to look back at him. “I trust you.” I whisper this, even though Catriona and Tui are already snoring in cots on the other side of the loft.
“Good.” Leif closes his eyes, and in mere moments is quietly snoring himself.
I want nothing more than to join everyone in sleep, but my mind is racing. Was the trip with Tui to Greenhollow really just over a month ago? We’re making our way, but there's so far to go, so much uncertainty ahead. We still need to make it to the Bastion, then get through it undetected, find our way to the port, find a captain and a boat … and then maybe I will be safe. Won’t I? I close my eyes, trying to focus on my friends’ breathing and the snuffling of the animals below, instead of my worrying thoughts. I will just have to trust that it’ll all work out.
It’s very early in the morning when a loud noise startles me awake. My eyes shoot open and I look around frantically in the dark, trying to work out what the sound was. I sit up on my cot and crane my ears. I hear it again: the sound of boots outside, nearby. My heart starts thuddi
ng in my chest.
I reach over and grab Leif’s arm.
Immediately he’s up. “What is it, Raven?”
“Listen. What’s that outside?”
He’s quiet for a moment. Then I see his head nodding, illuminated by the moonlight coming through the window at the end of the barn.
“I hear it,” he replies. But he’s grinning, clearly trying to suppress a chuckle.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s just the shepherds moving the sheep out to pasture.” He pauses. “I’m sure of it, but I’ll go check.” He pads over to the moonlit window and looks out. His hair spills over his shoulders, and for a moment, I forget everything we’ve been talking about. I am entranced watching his tall, lithe silhouette.
I force myself to snap back to the present and the possible danger at hand. “What do you see?” I whisper.
“Come take a look.”
At the window, I can make out two shepherds walking away from us, a huge herd of sheep in front of them. One waves his staff, a signal to the sheepdog keeping the herd together.
Leif puts his hand on my shoulder. “You’re shaking,” he says. “Are you cold, m’lady?”
I look up at him. “No, not cold at all,” I reply.
He snatches his hand away. “I’m so sorry. For touching you like that. Please forgive me. I shouldn’t have.”
In the moonlight, Leif’s face seems even more youthful. His eyes are full of genuine worry. It was sweet of him to apologize, but how could I possibly be offended at that?
“I don’t mind. Please don’t worry about it. I found it quite … comforting.” I look back out the window again and think it best to change the subject. “I thought I heard boots. Thought it may have been Hunters.”
“Don’t worry, they won’t find us here.” Leif takes my elbow. “Come, let me tuck you in, otherwise you’ll get cold.” He leads me back to the cot and I curl up on it. He pulls up the thick quilt and tucks it around me with an exaggerated flourish. “There you are, snug as a bug.”
I can’t help but grin as he settles himself into his own cot. He lays on his side, looking over at me.
“Tell me a story,” I say. I’ve grown fond of listening to Leif’s tales, and think one may be just what I need to fall asleep again. Morning is still a long way away.
“All right,” he says. “This is my favorite one. As you know, I grew up all over the countryside, traveling with Papa. Still, we spent a lot of time in the Bastion, trading and such. He keeps a small apartment in West Market that we use when we’re in the city. We’d come and go during the spring, summer, and autumn but would spend most of winter there. It’s plain and small and our little stove keeps the space warm.
“We’re lucky to have a home. Many citizens aren’t nearly as fortunate. Thousands of people—many families—are homeless and simply huddle together on the streets, begging for food.
“King Araroa talks as if he’s concerned with their plight. But he sends only wagons full of nearly rotten food, discarded from the Palace. It’s never close to enough, and full-on brawls happen when the food wagons come along each month.
“One winter, seven years ago, I think, when I was ten, the King went to the southern coast during the coldest months. Queen Araroa stayed behind. Nothing changed—that is, until the day Her Majesty sent the food wagons out.
“Papa and I went outside to watch. We wouldn’t take any of the food for ourselves—we had plenty—but sometimes Papa would help break up the scuffles that were sure to erupt. But this day, none did. Wagon after wagon passed by. People grabbed armfuls of food. This time it was good food. Really good. The bread was fresh, not moldy. The potatoes were new crop. There were carrots, onions, dried meat, too. And plenty of it. People had their fill and the wagons continued to roll by. Papa and I began to think we should help ourselves, too.
“While we were considering it, a plainly dressed woman walked toward us. Her cloak was sapphire-blue, and when she came closer I could see it was made from rich fabric. The hood was pulled up over her head, so we couldn’t see her face. Several ladies and armed guards followed her. I knew who she was in an instant.
“The Queen stopped where Papa and I were standing. She pulled the cloak back a bit so we could see her face. Her stunning blue eyes were warm, and she had a soft smile. Her eyes flicked behind us for an instant, and she must have seen that we hadn’t taken any of the food.
“She spoke: ‘Please, do help yourselves. They say this winter is going to be longer and colder than usual. Everyone must have plenty to eat tucked away.’ She said this with much warmth. I was speechless and could only nod in respect. Papa was able to thank her and we agreed to help ourselves to the offerings.
“She smiled kindly once more, pulled her hood back around her face, and continued on. Once Papa and I recovered from the shock, we gathered food just like the others.
“The next month was the same, with ample food for all. But the King returned the following month, and it was back to the same scarce, near-rotten rations as always.
“Nobody has ever forgotten the Queen’s kindness, least of all myself. People would joke, in hushed voices of course, that if the King disappeared suddenly we’d be far better off with a ruling Queen. That wouldn’t happen, of course, as their son would take over and he’d likely be no more generous than his father.
“But what did happen was this: I made a promise to myself, back when I was a boy, that if there ever was a revolution, I’d be the first in line. And then word got out last year about the hunting party. Araroa tried to keep the reason quiet, but rumor spreads quickly in the Bastion and I knew I’d have my chance … to see a Woman King in power one day.”
Leif stops. He’s watching my face. Waiting for my response. If what he’s been telling me is true, and so many people have their hopes pinned on me, they’re going to be terribly disappointed.
I’m not a Woman King. Just an illegitimate daughter, running for my life.
Even though I can barely make out Leif’s face in the darkness, I clearly see it radiating pride. Right at me. It’s then I realize that letting Leif down will be the worst thing of all.
“I might like that too,” is all I say.
Chapter 11
The next morning, Mrs. Mulberry lays out a breakfast fit for a king. There’s bacon, eggs, soft biscuits, warm berry crisp. We stuff ourselves once more. When we try to help her with the clean-up she shoos us away, saying, “Better get over to the Benfords to see about the crossing. I do hope they’ll be able to help you. Here’s something for them to enjoy.” She hands me a cloth-covered basket.
Catriona stays behind to feed the horses and clean their stalls.
As Tui, Leif and I set off, the air is crisp and cold. We’re well into autumn and it feels like winter is not far away. I really hope this Benford Jr. can guide us over the pass. It’s the only way out of Sagegate, apart from the way we came in.
The Benfords’ tiny cottage sits at the end of the road, with only the towering mountain beyond. The three of us stand for a moment in front of the peeling front door, aware that the answer we’re about to receive means the success or failure of our journey. Our lives are at stake. I try to ignore this thought, but I can’t. I’m aware that I’ve placed a great deal of faith in Leif, who I met only two weeks ago. Whether that is wise will remain to be seen.
I knock on the door. We wait. There are sounds of shuffling footsteps inside, and the door opens just a crack.
“Can I help ya?” says a voice as weathered and worn as the house.
Leif steps closer to the door. “Mr. Benford—it’s me, Leif. I’ve got two friends here with me. May we come in?”
The door opens wider, revealing an ancient face wearing a big, toothless grin. “Leif, my boy! Please come in!” We squeeze past and the man shuts the door quickly behind us.
The inside of the cottage is dark, but cozy. An enormous pot-bellied stove radiates heat from the center of the room. Leif walks over to a woman I a
ssume must be Mrs. Benford, who’s sitting on a bed tucked into a corner. He kisses her on the cheek.
“So lovely to see you, Leif,” she says. “I wish I had something to offer you.”
“Please don’t trouble yourself, Mrs. Benford. Besides, we’re staying with the Mulberry’s, and after two meals I don’t think we’ll need to eat for another week.”
I hand the basket to Mrs. Benford. She rummages inside, pulls out a bread roll and takes a large bite.
“Why thank you, dear. Mrs. Mulberry is very generous with the cooking, she is.” She waves a gnarled hand toward the stools by the wood stove. “Do sit down and make yourselves comfortable.”
“I assume you need to get over the pass?” says Mr. Benford. “Unless you’re staying here for the winter?”
Leif shakes his head. “We’d love to stay, but our family is expecting us at the Bastion by Solstice. Is Billy around, so we can speak to him about leading us across?”
“Naw, Junior’s not here. He left a few weeks ago for Pinehaven. He’s helping the Swanson family cross. They spent the summer working here in Sagegate. We expect him back any day now, though. You can ask him then.”
I let out a sigh. I was really hoping to get this sorted today, but it looks like that’s not going to happen.
Tui speaks up. “We’ll look forward to seeing Billy when he returns, then. I hope he’s up for another trip across Zenith this year. At least, as far as the peak—we can make our way down the other side. Right, Raven?”
I nod. “We need a few days to prepare, anyway.” Then something crosses my mind. “Will we be able to take the horses, Mr. Benford?”
“Naw,” he replies. “’Tis only a footpath most of the way, and there’s a fair bit of climbing to do. It’s a difficult crossing, even for us two-legged folk, especially with the ice building up as it does this time of year. You’ll have to leave ’em here, come back for ’em. If you pass this way again, that is.”
My heart sinks. It hadn’t occurred to me that we’d have to continue on foot. A lump forms in my throat. Pearl has been my faithful companion for nearly two years. The thought of saying goodbye to her brings tears to my eyes.
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