Arrick’s lips twitched before he swept his hand toward the doorway. “That much has been made clear. But have no fear, your escort awaits.”
With stiff legs I moved to the door and saw that he had not lied. A guard of about twenty men sat in perfect formation on horseback waiting for the command to ride.
The rebel army was more than a bunch of ragtag bandits. Arrick had apparently developed capable soldiers with a sense of propriety and loyalty any kingdom would be happy to have on their side. But they had no loyalty and they fought for no particular kingdom.
I wondered if Arrick would fight against me, too, when I was queen. Would I be forced to hunt him down and end his rebellion?
The thought left me hollow.
I decided to think about those things later.
Much later.
“We’re ready to leave when you are, m’lady,” he murmured behind me.
I jumped at his closeness. I had been too lost in my thoughts to hear him approach. “Tess,” I insisted. “You can call me Tess.”
“Only if you call me Arrick.” I could hear the smile in his voice, but I resisted one of my own.
I turned to face him. “Arrick.”
“Tess.” He held out a hand to me. I slipped mine into his, allowing him to shake it. “I look forward to our business together,” he said.
“Is this business?”
He answered with just a wink. He was up to something.
But what?
Arrick disengaged my hand and stepped back. With a commanding voice that carried across his fortress, he called out, “We ride as soon as our guests are ready! Be on your guard.” To me he said, “We await you below.” Then he walked from the room, his men at his side.
I turned back to Oliver and let his silence speak for him. “Did I make a mistake?”
He picked up my sword from a low table against the wall and tossed it to me. I caught it at the hilt and rolled my wrist, testing the weight and familiarity. Arrick’s men must have returned them to us while we spoke.
“It remains to be seen,” Oliver admitted. “But keep your blade close.” He nodded at my satchel on the floor behind me. “And your possessions closer.”
A few minutes later we mounted borrowed steeds. Arrick rode at the front, while Oliver and I rode in the middle, either still imprisoned or protected. I couldn’t be sure.
With a click of his throat and a call of command, Arrick led us into the forest. Our horses were born and bred in Tenovia. Slimmer than Heprin’s steeds, they were reared to pick their way through the tangled forest. Their fat hooves remained steady through the rough terrain and their long legs easily stepped over the white roots that blocked the paths.
By early evening we’d cleared the Blood Woods and found the road again. Arrick’s caravan stayed to the right of the road and moved through Tenovia with a grace and authority that continued to surprise me.
By the end of the first day, we had recovered our lost time and set a steady course toward my homeland.
I was back on the right path.
And yet, looking at the dark head of the rebel commander, I felt more upended than ever.
10
After a week of traveling, our caravan had fallen into a routine. Or rather, Oliver and I had adapted to the stringent schedule of the rebel army.
We woke before dawn and set out on the main roads, unafraid of law enforcement. At first, I had been surprised at the support the Tenovian people showed for the rebel army. People would often wave as we passed and when we stopped near an inn, the inn keeper would send out hot food and cold drinks.
When I was at the monastery, I’d heard a few rumors of the rebel army from workers passing through. But their whispers were usually terrifying tales of beheaded soldiers and robbed carriages.
I had been justifiably wary of them until I accidentally became one of them.
In fact, most of the men in Arrick’s army had military experience. They’d either retired from their own country’s service or defected, making quite a few of them men with prices on their heads.
I had expected a cruel, barbaric group of men that wanted to kill anything that looked at them strangely and stayed warm by using the severed limbs of fallen enemies to kindle their fires.
Instead, I found men that respected life and respected each other. They helped stranded wagons by repairing wheels or rescuing them from the mud. They assisted with needed repairs as we passed through villages. They spent time every morning and evening practicing their fighting skills and sharpening blades. And they’d abandoned their countries because they believed this was a better solution… a better campaign for peace than anything else.
I shifted on my saddle, wincing at the pain shooting through my thighs and back. Shiksa resettled herself in the folds of my cloak, digging her tiny claws into the fabric so she didn’t bounce off. A week on horseback had made me appreciate the simplicity of walking.
A quick glance at Oliver proved that he was in the same shape, if not a bit worse off. He looked visibly pained as he bounced around atop his mare. She was as gentle as any horse I had ever seen, but Oliver’s body seemed to be at war with the movements beneath him.
He gave me a sour look. “One shall not complain about one’s circumstances. They can always get worse.” He wiggled in his saddle. “One of the first wisdoms of the Temple.”
I watched him for a minute as he steered his mare crookedly on the road. He couldn’t seem to walk in a straight line to save his life. With my sweetest voice, I told him, “By listening to you, one would never know you struggled not to complain.”
He wrinkled his nose. “It could be worse. I do believe that.”
I laughed. “How?”
“We could still be trapped in that tree with a gigantic wildebeest relentlessly ramming our haven.” His gaze lifted to meet mine. “Or worse yet, it could have already dragged us back to its cave to mash our brains and feast on our insides.”
“You are wise, Oliver the Silent. It could be worse.”
A horse, whose name I learned was Thief, rode up alongside me, pulling my attention to the other side. The steed was magnificent. The bronze coat shone in the late morning sun and the dark mane shimmered as it trotted along with perfect obedience. “Good morning, Commander,” I murmured to the rider.
Arrick smiled at me. “Good morn, Stranger. And how is your ride today?”
I swallowed down a fair amount of misery to reply, “Fine. Just like yesterday. And the day before.”
This was part of our daily routine. While Arrick spent the majority of his time with his men, commanding and dictating and doing whatever else it was that he did, he consistently stopped by to inquire after my wellbeing. His questions remained the same. As did my answers.
He chuckled. “Are you used to riding, then?”
I thought back to Oliver’s recitation of the Temple’s wisdom. “I am used to not complaining, Commander.” His eyebrow quirked curiously. “I was raised at the Temple of Eternal Light,” I explained. “The brothers that brought me up did not have much need for horses outside of working their fields. I am afraid I haven’t been on the back of a horse in a very long time.”
“You were raised among monks?” His expression was comical. “For all this time?”
“All this time?”
“For how long?” he clarified. “How much of your life did you spend with them?”
“Since I was a child,” I answered honestly. “Since I was nine-years-old.”
“And how old are you now?”
I tilted my chin. There was a tone to his voice that I did not like. There was an implication there that I was still a child. “Old enough to know that a man should never ask a woman that question.”
“Younger than twenty, I would imagine,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken.
I turned to him and raised one eyebrow, mimicking his almost constant expression. “And you already know I’m older than nine. What is your best guess?”
“Sev
enteen.”
I swallowed back frustration at his perfect answer. “Your guess is close enough, I suppose,” I told him.
His answering smile told me he believed he’d won. Which I suppose he had. “And how old are you?”
“No, you must guess. That’s our game.”
My gaze moved over him, taking in the way he squinted and the manner in which his smile stretched across his face. I accounted for his time in the sun, the tan to his smooth skin. He had a full head of hair and all his teeth, the rough scrape of beard over his jaw. There was an air about him that showed world weariness, but also youth and vibrancy and a playfulness I had been trying to ignore.
He reminded me of someone, and the similarity made my throat ache for things that could never be. They weren’t the same person. They couldn’t be. The boy I pictured would be ruling a kingdom by now. And Arrick was an outlaw. But those blue eyes were a perfect replica of the ghost of my past, the ghost that should have been the foundation of my future.
At last I looked at his hands. They were wrapped around leather reigns and stretched long and true. Young hands. They had neither the wrinkles of time nor the scars from many battles, though they were weathered and calloused and proof of a hard life.
“Twenty-three,” I guessed.
He nodded. “Close. Twenty.”
“Twenty!”
He laughed. “Do I look older?”
“Much,” I assured him. His age… Three years had separated the boy prince and me. The same distance between Arrick and me now. It was impossible though. Mere coincidence. Magic from the Blood Wood. I swallowed down my suspicion, hiding my reaction behind teasing. “I would have guessed fifty winters if I had not been worried about offending your ego.”
“Now you’re just being cruel.”
I smiled because he was right.
We rode in comfortable silence for several minutes before he said, “For eight years you lived without horses and yet you are obviously proficient with this one. Did you ride often before?”
“Before the monastery. Yes, we had horses. It used to be a favorite pastime of mine.”
“Well, you have impressed me with your proficiency, Stranger. I commend you on your ability to stay with us even though I know you’re hurting.”
“You are escorting me, Commander. There is no other option.”
I heard the smile in his voice, even while I kept my gaze focused ahead. “I’ve never heard of monks taking in orphans. Is this a custom in Heprin?”
I nibbled my lip, realizing I’d said too much. Monks did not take in children, especially female children, unless they were pledged to the order. Which I clearly was not. “No, it is not custom. I was a special case. The high priest knew my family. He agreed to raise me out of obligation to them.” And to the realm. But I knew better than to say that particular piece of truth out loud.
“And you were the only female among them?”
“The only.” I turned my gaze on him. “And the only person allowed to speak out loud. The Temple of Eternal Light is a silent order.”
His mouth opened and closed as he floundered for something to say. “Completely silent?”
“Completely,” I laughed. “Your rebel army is the most voices I have heard speaking at once in a long time. More concerning than the pain in my backside is the pain in my head from their constant chatter.”
He shook his head. “Eight years of silence. I cannot even imagine.”
“In truth, I think the brothers started to see me as useful. While they remained loyal to their vows, they had me to barter with vendors from the market and the women that made their clothes. I could communicate in ways that were otherwise impossible for them. I’m not sure what they’ll do now that they don’t have a stray orphan around to voice their very frugal opinions.”
I enjoyed his low chuckle. But when he spoke again, he was as serious as before. “You were obviously very valuable to them if they let you stay with them for so long. Did they protest when you decided to leave?” His gaze narrowed on me. “Or maybe they did not know? Has another fugitive joined my ranks? Is there a price on your head meant to be paid in cucumbers and tomatoes?”
“Hardly. I left with as much fanfare and pomp as a silent monastery is capable of giving. The Brotherhood of Silence were without a doubt generous hosts and gracious teachers, but they knew I would not stay with them forever. I could not. I would never agree to their vows and it’s forbidden for a woman to join the order.”
“So off to Elysia you went.”
“Yes,” I agreed, thankful he seemed to accept every part of my story without question. “Home at last.”
“Home? Is it?” His movements drew my attention back to him. From his pocket he withdrew my necklace. The two glittering gemstones shimmered in the bright sunlight, dancing as the horse moved onward. “But these are Soravale colors, are they not? The blue and the silver belong to the Soravale coat of arms. Elysia’s are white and gold.”
My fingers itched to snatch the necklace from his taunting fingers. He asked too many questions. “And how do you know so much of royal colors?”
Arrick inclined his head toward the army that surrounded us. “My men come from all corners of the realm. They still wear their colors out of loyalty to our mission, to the kingdoms we’re trying to save from an incompetent king and the Ring of Shadows.”
“Oh.” His answer made sense. And royal colors weren’t uncommon knowledge. But that flicker of instinct flared again. There was more to Arrick than he wanted me to know. His questions were carefully crafted, meant to put me at ease. And yet I felt him digging deep, searching for answers I intended to stay hidden.
Two could play at that game.
He persisted, “So, Stranger, if you’re from Elysia, why do you wear Soravale’s colors?”
I bit down on my lip, sharpening my fictitious history. Would a common Elysian family ever have dealt closely with one from Soravale? Maybe merchants. But how about their nine-year-old daughter?
“You stole it,” he assumed. “You’re a fugitive after all.”
“I am not a fugitive,” I huffed. “And I didn’t steal it. I had a friend when I was younger. He gave it to me.”
“He?”
“Yes, he.”
I cleared my throat and turned my palm over, holding out my hand. “May I have that back now, please? Or are you planning to hold it hostage all the way to the Marble Wall?”
The cool metal dropped into my hand.
“I wasn’t holding it hostage.”
“Oh really?”
“I merely wanted to ensure your cooperation.”
I almost smiled. Almost. “And you have it. There is no need to kidnap my possessions again.”
His blue eyes flashed with fire. “I hope you understand what we’re sacrificing for you. We’ve placed your journey above all our other priorities. And we’re in the middle of a war.”
“A war?”
“A rebellion,” he clarified. “Battles aren’t being fought on a field, but our work is important. Even you, the recluse that you are, can believe that.”
“Do not presume to know what I believe, Commander. Nor should you assume the work you’re doing is important. So far, I have seen nothing but happy villages and peaceful life. I’m afraid this war you are stirring is nothing but whispered rumors in a realm that has no need for battle or rebellion.”
He leaned toward me, the leather of his saddle creaking beneath his muscled thighs. “You are sheltered. Sheltered, stubborn, and spoiled. You might not appreciate my help, Stranger. But you need it.” His heels clicked against his steed’s belly and he moved forward with a jolt of power.
I watched him work his way through the battalion, his head held high the entire time. He didn’t stop until he was seated at the front of his rebel army. And never once did he look back.
“That was brilliant, Tessana,” Oliver muttered at me in a harsh whisper so those riding around us couldn’t hear.
“I to
ld you not to call me that.”
“Fine. That was brilliant, Tess.”
“What?” I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the seedlings of guilt that sprung up in my chest. “He started it.”
“He started it?” He let out an elongated sigh, “He is young,” Oliver noted. “But when compared to you his maturity is staggering.”
“Dragon’s blood, Oliver, what would you have me do? He is not our friend. And he is most certainly not our ally. He has an agenda and until I know what it is, I cannot—”
Oliver whispered. “Cannot be polite? Or at least silent until we arrive at our destination?”
“He intentionally picks fights with me! And he pries too much.”
“You’re right,” Oliver conceded. “But you cannot afford to lose him. We were naïve to believe we could take this journey alone, Tess. I’ve heard the rebels speak of the royal armies and how they patrol these roads. And the whispers of the Ring of Shadows are worse. We are fortunate to have a guard. The Light is shining on us. But you are determined to ruin this, and I don’t know why. You’re a fool if you still believe we can do it on our own.”
I bit my tongue to keep from hissing something foul. And to keep from admitting he was right. But I couldn’t quell the need to push Arrick, to press and press and press until he finally gave way and revealed that hidden thing I knew was there. “Fine, Oliver. If you are so concerned with our safety, I shall hold my tongue in the future. Even if Arrick is determined to infuriate me. I shall be more silent than you have ever been.”
I thought he would react to the subtle dig at his abandoned vows, instead he lifted his brows and smiled. “Arrick?”
“That is his name.”
“Of course, it is.”
“Oliver, it is.”
“I know that’s his name,” he murmured slyly.
Now Oliver was the one picking at my fragile restraint. “Are you arguing with me?”
He sobered unsuccessfully. “No.”
“You are.”
“I’m not,” he insisted.
I narrowed my gaze, unsure exactly what we were fighting about. “His name is actually Arrick.”
Crown of One Hundred Kings (Nine Kingdoms Trilogy Book 1) Page 9