by Karalynn Lee
“Three down, and the rest fled. There was no point in continuing the attack if you couldn’t overwhelm and silence us all, was there?”
“You were better prepared than we expected,” he admitted.
“If Helsmont hasn’t warred for years, prince, it’s not because we’re afraid to. It means others are afraid of us.”
Beatris turned brisk. “Once we’ve organized the mess you’ve made of our camp, we might as well move on. It’ll be at least dawn by then.”
Kimri decided she resented the ambush more for the sleep she’d lost than anything else. But then Herrol said quietly, “May I mourn my men?” and she remembered lives had been taken.
The commandant nodded curtly to Samir. “Let him see their bodies.”
She made arrangements for her own injured guards. None had died. One sentry had taken a knife across the cheek that left the skin and layers of flesh open. The Kenasgate soldiers had been trying for his throat to silence him.
“They frightened off the horses first, which distracted our guard,” Beatris said. “We’ll have to round them up.”
Kimri followed her to the picket line, now near-deserted. “I can help.”
“No need— Huh.” Beatris regarded the only horse left, who calmly returned her gaze. “That’s your mare, isn’t it?”
Kimri stroked Redwing’s nose, praising her effusively for staying. “I’m good with animals.”
“Very well. Go with Cheyrit. I don’t want anyone else getting ideas about snatching you away, not when you’re under my protection.”
And formidable protection it was. Judging by the trampled ground, there had been a fair number of men in Herrol’s troop. It was hard to make out the hoof-tracks amidst all the footprints, especially in lantern light, but the guard Beatris had assigned to her knelt only briefly and then nodded to the east. “That way.” The hesitation in his speech had vanished.
They found clusters of horses, all of them nervous and sweat-slicked. She coaxed them to her one by one, soothing them with gentle words until their ears flicked toward her. They let her stroke their necks and lead them back to the hastily repaired corral for a quick grooming.
She found Beatris. “Most of them should be walked, since they’ll be tired from running in panic.”
Beatris eyed her. “Except yours, which didn’t run, hmm?”
She spread her hands in innocence. “You should train your horses better.”
The commander grinned. “If our king didn’t want you, you’d have a place in our stables.”
She spoke the words as a compliment, and Kimri managed not to bristle at the idea of a princess serving as a stable hand. It’d probably be a more interesting life than that of a king’s consort, anyway.
They didn’t build a cairn for the Kenasgate men. Herrol protested, but Beatris said, “Let at least the wild things have something out of this night. You’ve gained nothing, and I’m not sure we have either,” which silenced him.
They moved onward as soon as enough pale light came over the horizon for them to see by. Even exhausted, she found her nerves too frayed from the ambush to relax. She twitched at every unexpected movement until her mare snorted her displeasure at the spastic behavior of her rider. Kimri apologized and looked around for Herrol so she could glare at him. He walked between two guards a bit ahead of her, oblivious to her dark look.
Unable to resist the opportunity to taunt him, she overtook the latter guard so Redwing walked next to the prince. “So what do you think your ransom-price will be?”
“Not too high, I hope, or my father will never pay it.” He didn’t look at her, but his voice sounded serious enough.
She swallowed her next barb. Herrol had a younger brother, and perhaps the king of Kenasgate was considering making him heir instead. She couldn’t imagine the king being willing to leave his son prisoner otherwise. It couldn’t be a pleasant position for Herrol to be in. Losing her taste for gloating, she gave a careless shrug. “I’m sure the mountain-king won’t ask for much. He’ll be desperate for anything he can get after paying my exorbitant bride-price.”
He choked and gave her an amused glance. “No wonder King Dereth wanted to marry you off. I can see how much trouble you must’ve raised in Anagard.”
“Yes, now I can just cause it in Helsmont.”
“That’s what I’d hoped to do.”
At least he was honest about it. “How did you find out about the alliance?”
“You wouldn’t believe we simply happened to be riding through the pass and seized our opportunity?”
She snorted.
“There are always loose tongues,” he said. “Even in a place guarded as well as Helsmont.”
Her estimation of him rose. It was no small feat to place a spy in Helsmont. Dereth had tried. The first man had been tricked onto a horse who then carried him out of the pass, oblivious to his commands. The second had been simply told there was nothing to be said whenever he asked a question, even about the price of a loaf of bread. Dereth had given up after that.
“You’ll have to be well-watched, then, so you can’t get word to your spy.”
He sighed. “Foolish of me to have warned you.”
“Oh, I’m sure the mountain-king appreciates such helpful ransom-prisoners as you.”
Before he could come up with a retort, he tripped on a protruding tree root. The group came to a stop as he picked himself up, muttering curses. “I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth before anyone asked, and resumed walking.
But the prince must have injured his ankle, for he began to favor one foot. His limp grew more pronounced as they went on, until she winced on his behalf with every step he took. She halted her horse. “Get on.”
He looked up at her. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll take control of the horse and accomplish what I came for?”
She scowled. “Do you want something else broken?”
His mouth quirked, but he didn’t move.
Impatient, she said, “I’m the lightest rider here, and Beatris isn’t going to call a halt to redistribute the weight on the packhorses for your sake.” Besides, she was curious about the prince.
He laughed soundlessly and took her offered hand, swinging easily into the saddle behind her.
As soon as he settled into place, she wished she hadn’t insisted. What had she been thinking, asking the prince of her homeland’s enemy to ride behind her? But telling him to dismount again would be ridiculous.
At the very least she could glean some information from him. She sought a safe topic and settled on the one that had preoccupied her throughout this journey. “Tell me about Helsmont.”
She’d caught him off guard. “What?”
“I’ve never been there. And I don’t have a conveniently planted spy, either.”
“His reports were mostly concerned with military matters,” Herrol said cautiously.
She huffed in exasperation. “No one can tell me anything useful about it. I’m almost coming to think it’s a mythical place.”
“It might as well be. It’s shrouded in legend as much as fog.”
Fog. She sighed. She liked sunlight and green woods. “What about Kenasgate, then?”
“You have to stop trying to ferret military secrets out of me.” When she twisted around to make an indignant reply, he laughed. “I know what you meant. What did you want to know?”
She thought for a moment. “What do you miss?”
“You’re assuming there’s something that I do miss.”
“Truly? Nothing at all?” She already ached with longing for familiar people and surroundings. Mostly Dereth.
“It’s been constant raiding for me. I barely remember my home.” But he relented after a few moments. “As a boy I liked to play near the river by the dragon’s spine bridge.”
Her memories didn’t reach that far back. Her father had installed archers on the riverbank by that bridge early in her childhood, when the war between Kenasgate and Anagard had intensified. Herr
ol tactfully didn’t mention this fact, however, and instead reminisced about how he had led an unlikely cabal of nobles’ and servants’ sons alike into various scrapes.
He reminded her of Dereth, who probably would have done the same if he hadn’t been kept busy by his unruly sister. She had heard the king of Kenasgate was intractable, but for a moment she allowed herself to entertain the notion of their two realms meeting in peace after Herrol took the throne. He didn’t strike her as a bad sort, at least when he wasn’t trying to abduct her.
The air grew thinner as they traveled onward and upward. Beatris began riding closer to her and with a warier eye. She’d heard of how some folk didn’t fare well in these higher climes and she occasionally found herself short of breath, but otherwise felt fine. Her worst complaint was of the creeping cold that led her to roll herself up in her cloak before going to sleep. Not even Beatris’s laconic, “Get up, caterpillar” in the morning dissuaded her from the practice.
Herrol didn’t fare as well, developing a throbbing headache and spells of dizziness that had Beatris threatening to tie him into the saddle. It was no idle threat, either. She brought out a length of rope.
“You’re not going to truss me up like a lamb for the spit,” Herrol protested.
“It’s a long tumble down,” Beatris said. “Will your king pay ransom for a pile of broken bones picked clean by birds?” She gestured upward at the eagle circling them as though already anticipating carrion.
Herrol paled but set his jaw. “So thoughtful. I’ll walk.”
Beatris shrugged. “Keep your hand on a pack-horse’s lead and try not to drag it over the edge with you. And I’ll notice if you try to slip away.”
He set his jaw. “I gave you my word.”
“Some temptations overcome even the most honest men’s honor.” It was clear she didn’t include Herrol among their number.
Although sympathetic to Herrol’s suffering, Kimri welcomed the delays he caused. It put off her fate a little longer.
But although their path steepened and took them into even thinner air, Herrol’s ailment eased after a few days. In good time, too, for they had to wend their way along a precipitous drop with room for only one abreast. Kimri kicked a small pebble over the edge and watched it fall a long way down.
“We’ll have to walk our horses from here,” Beatris said. “Ours are used to this path, but will yours cope?”
Kimri stroked Redwing’s muzzle. “She will.” She couldn’t help feeling a flare of pride when Beatris simply accepted her word.
They made their way past the cliff safely and crested the next peak. Her eyes widened and she leaned forward to get a better look. Their way lay gently downward now, and she could see the city of Helsmont tucked in that valley, named for the kingdom as all capitols were. They had nearly arrived.
An eagle’s shadow passed over them as though in omen: the rest of her life would be spent overcast by these mountains. Her stomach churned, but she swung herself into the saddle when Beatris did and let the guards close around her as they rode forward.
Chapter Two
A tall figure stood alone by the gates. At first she thought it must be a guard, perhaps the commandant of the city garrison, but Beatris turned to her. “There my task ends.”
Beatris had promised to take her directly to King Tathan. So this was the mountain-king, her betrothed. She tried to make out details of his face: a serious mouth and touches of gray in his black hair. She couldn’t see his eyes, for they were shaded by his hand as he watched them approach. He was a big-boned man, but as they drew closer he moved toward them with swift, smooth strides instead of a giant’s plod.
He reached her side and would have lifted her off her horse if she hadn’t hastily dismounted just in time. What had she been thinking, staying mounted as though he were some underling? Her mare sensed her nervousness and shied away, and Kimri grabbed the reins as she stared up at him. It was one thing to be told she would marry the mountain-king, and another thing entirely to actually meet him. He’s…not as old as I expected. His features were craggy but not unhandsome, and set in an expectant expression. Flustered, she forgot to greet him properly and blurted out, “How did you know we were coming?”
“I know everything that happens in these mountains.” His voice was deep, like the rumblings of an avalanche felt before it was seen. It seemed to hum along her bones.
She couldn’t help feeling relieved when he turned his regard to the guards. They had already dismounted, and as he looked toward them, they touched their hilts and their hearts in salute. Beatris stood at their forefront. “My king, I bring your betrothed, Princess Kimri, unharmed.”
“You’re not counting the blisters,” he said, and Kimri flexed her feet within her boots, feeling them ache.
Beatris shrugged. “I’m only human.”
The king smiled. She could see now that his eyes were green like pine. “You did well.”
For the first time, Beatris looked at peace.
“I also bring you a prisoner, Prince Herrol of Kenasgate.” Beatris prodded him forward.
“Your father cannot be pleased that you are here,” the king said to him.
Herrol raised his head and said nothing.
“Unless he’s the one who sent you into my realm.” The king eyed him speculatively.
“He will offer you a handsome ransom.” Herrol’s voice was only a little strained.
“I shall only take such,” the king said. “I will send a messenger to warn him of the price of trespassing in my land, although I’m sure your men will have already carried word to him.”
“No doubt,” Herrol said, but after a pause. Apparently she wasn’t the only one disquieted by the king’s easy knowledge. How had he known the other soldiers from Kenasgate had escaped? Beatris hadn’t sent anyone ahead of them.
“You’ll be treated fairly enough, for all that you tried to abduct my betrothed from within my borders,” the king went on. “Meliah, take him in ahead of us. Accommodations have been readied for him in the watchtower.”
She watched Herrol lower his head and move on under guard. Oddly, she felt as though she were losing an ally.
“Your betrothed accounted for herself well,” Beatris said unexpectedly. “She took the princeling.”
The king turned to Kimri, an amused gleam in his eye. “So you do not only play at being a soldier.”
She cursed the warmth creeping up her neck. How did he know about that time she had secretly joined a troop? Had Dereth told him? “I have many talents, King.” She lifted her chin.
His eyes crinkled slightly. The knot in her belly loosened. “You are most welcome here, Princess Kimri of many talents.”
“Of Anagard.” She wouldn’t yet relinquish that allegiance. She didn’t mean to sound so mulish, but she hadn’t forgotten that she hadn’t been given a choice about coming here.
“Yes. Until the wedding.”
Why dance around the subject? “When will that be?”
“You will live in my household for a year, as according to the custom here. Then, if we still suit each other, we shall wed.”
She wasn’t foolish enough to ask him what would happen if they didn’t suit each other. “A year?” she said instead.
“So that a woman can come to know the man who would be her husband through all four seasons, we say.”
It had the ring of both old lore and common sense, and offered a respite. After a year, marriage might seem an inevitability rather than an ambush.
Resignation or terror. Bright choices indeed. Inclined toward neither, she met his gaze squarely. “And time for you to learn about me.”
His smile deepened. “I look forward to it.”
He turned and led them through the gates. As they entered the city, she looked around with unabashed curiosity. She hadn’t expected everything to be so different, from the dark stone of the buildings to the garb of the folk. Of course they would wear thicker clothes, but dyes seemed uncommon, leaving mos
t in drab colors. The streets were narrower, and she saw a herd-dog keeping several goats trotting in a line in front of their herder so as to leave room for others to pass. There weren’t many carts or wagons, but some people carried loads on wooden frames strapped to their backs. She couldn’t help noting a tendency toward simplicity, so much so that they looked more like peasants than townsfolk.
People came out of their doors to watch her in return, although they didn’t approach. Didn’t her arrival merit a welcoming parade or some sort of celebration? She was their future queen, after all. But the most she received was a smile from a woman wearing a flour-dusted apron.
“I asked them to let you ease into your first day,” the mountain-king said as though he sensed her disquiet. “I thought you’d be weary from your journey, and I didn’t think a crowd of people would help.”
“I actually couldn’t feel less tired,” she confessed. She felt like a hound encountering something unfamiliar: ears pricked forward, eyes keen, tail slightly raised. “There’s so much to take in. It’d be a shame to miss any of it.” She might not have wanted to come here, but now that she’d entered the mystery-shrouded city, she wanted to find out as much as she could.
They reached the outer walls of the keep and passed through. She halted. In the center of the courtyard was a dance: two people and four blades, the song of swords striking, the flash of sun off of steel. She sensed nothing vicious in each attack and parry, only a harmonious rhythm as the swordsmen flowed river-like from one move to the next. Then came a shift, and one of them threw himself into a suddenly aggressive attack, only to move swiftly away once his swords were deflected and wait. The other changed his style to suit, prowling closer, each step a deliberate decision.
The entire procession had stopped because she had. “I want to learn,” she breathed.
“It is only the best of our warriors who sword-dance,” the mountain-king said, not brusquely, but her cheeks flamed all the same.
She would prove she was no soft maid. She held her hand out to Beatris. “Your bow.” Archery was a barely acceptable pastime for noblewomen in Anagard, and she’d practiced enough to have a fair hand at it.