Adela’s smile returned, a tinge of worry still lingering. It would stay until Damian returned. Rose felt the same when her father was sent on a mission.
“What did you find?” Rose glanced at Felix.
“Not much. But we’ve alerted the forest. There’s three days to the solstice and the sorcerer can’t hide forever. We’ll find him and Killian.”
Felix said it like there was no other outcome. He didn’t seem like the type to subscribe to false hope, that thought alone reassuring Rose more than any platitude.
“What happened t’ you this morning?”
“Yours wasn’t the only ambush. The sorcerer set a trap with a few of his men and some Nameless Ones who are always on the lookout to cause trouble.”
“And?”
“And the Nameless Ones got what they deserved, but the sorcerer and his men escaped.” Felix scowled and crushed a stray ember under his boot. “We broke free just in time for Damian to hear Killian’s cry.”
Rose shuddered and took another fortifying sip of tea. “Thank you—for helping Lars.”
“Felix poured his magic into the wound while they treated it,” Adela said. “A bit rash, perhaps, to release that much raw power, but it got Lars through the worst of it.”
Felix ignored the other faery’s words, busying himself with tending the fire.
“Thank you.” Rose whispered.
Felix sent her a small, genuine smile that softened his hard features. “Just tired of seeing people get hurt by that sorcerer.”
She sniffed away the last of the lurking tears. “Me too.”
Felix tipped her a nod.
Dinner was a quiet affair. Rose offered to take a watch and Felix gave her the first turn. The hours passed quietly, Damian returning at the end of her shift. She retreated to her pallet, trying to overhear the brothers’ murmured conversation. They quieted after a few minutes and she was left with her fears of what the next day might bring.
*
A stream chuckled alongside clusters of slender aspens not far from the clearing, and Rose took her spare clothes and went to wash away the last traces of the ambush.
She plunged her dirty shirt and trousers under the cold water, scrubbing furiously with bits of soap against the bloodstains and dirt. Dried blood flecked off to be carried away by the river, but a few stubborn patches remained, even after she attacked it with handfuls of moss.
She laid the wet clothes on the grassy bank to dry and settled down beside them, re-lacing her boots over her trousers and resting folded arms over knees.
The sun trickled through the foliage to tease at her face. She closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth after the crisp chill of the water. Birds chattered to one another and a small animal trundled by with a rustle in the undergrowth.
All that’s missing is the smell of sweet forest sage, and I could be home. In our cabin. Not an entire country away where everything bad that could happen, has happened. She pressed her forehead against her arms.
“Rose.” Adela’s voice opened her eyes. “Lars is awake and asking about you.”
Rose nodded, taking her time gathering her clothes. No telling what he would say to her. Not after the ambush.
“Rose.” Adela’s expression softened with a small smile of understanding. “I think he wanted to know that you’re all right.”
Rose gave a poor attempt at a smile and followed Adela back to the clearing. She left her clothes in a piled mess by her pack and tip-toed over to Lars. She couldn’t quite meet his blue eyes as she sank to one knee a cautious pace away.
“How are you feeling?” She blurted first.
“I’m all right. It doesn’t hurt much right now. Rose, I—I don’t remember much, but I need to apologize for what I said to you.” He shifted, trying to catch her gaze.
She shook her head. “You can’t apologize for the truth.”
“No. Even if I wasn’t wounded, the two of us couldn’t have stopped them from—from taking Killian.”
Rose could only imagine how much he hated saying those words aloud. But he wasn’t the only one who needed to apologize.
“Lars, this wouldn’t have happened, if not for me. I sent us right into that ambush. And you were right. If anything happens t’ Killian, it’ll be my fault.”
“Rose.” He interrupted in his prince voice—a tone she hadn’t heard in weeks. “Killian and I both made the decision to go with you. You can’t take responsibility for our choices. I can’t blame you for wanting to find your father, and I know Killian wouldn’t either...” His voice broke and faltered.
Tears pricked at Rose’s eyes again and she rubbed her nose before her reddening face could betray her. “I’m sorry anyway.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for what you did for me.”
Her answering smile felt shaky. “Not much besides panic.”
“Maybe, but that’s more than you would have done for me a few weeks ago.” He winked, and a chuckle bubbled in her chest. “Admit it.”
She bumped his shoulder with her fist. “Yes, lucky for you, you boys grew on me. A little like mold.”
His laugh halted as his face tensed in pain, and he pressed a hand to his side.
“All right?” She scooted closer.
He opened his eyes and nodded.
“Sorry.” She flinched.
He waved off her sympathy and extended a hand. “Help me sit up.”
“Oh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Rose looked over her shoulder for Adela.
“It’s all right,” the faery reassured as she joined them.
Rose took Lars’s hand, sliding an arm behind him to help him sit upright. He hunched forward, his face losing the little color it had gained.
“Lars?” Rose clutched his shoulder.
“Just dizzy.” His eyes remained closed. It took a long minute before he straightened.
Rose kept a hold on him for support as Adela folded his shirt back, still crusted with bloodstains, to check the bandage.
“How is it?” Lars asked.
“Healing,” Adela said. “You’re lucky there are faeries around to shorten the process.”
Lars tugged at the bandage. “How long?”
“A few more days.”
“How long until the solstice?”
“Two days,” Rose said softly.
Lars bit his lip against a frustrated sigh.
“Felix and Damian are looking for him, Lars. They’ll find him.” She gave his shoulder a light shake.
He nodded. “I know. I just need to be ready for when they do. I need to be there…”
“You will.” And so would she. They’d find Killian and her father, and make the sorcerer pay.
*
Felix and Damian did not return until late that evening, still empty-handed. Lars sat up for dinner and he ducked his head, clenching his fists. The telltale twitch along his jaw showed his disappointment at the faeries’ report.
Felix’s lips were drawn in frustration as he flipped a knife between his hands. Damian, in contrast, just looked tired as he rubbed his face along his scars.
What now, then? Rose gathered her courage to ask the question in the frozen silence, but Adela beat her to it.
“We need to tell the soldiers in Moss.”
“What’s that going to do?” Felix growled.
Adela ignored his tone. “The king is there.”
“My father?” Lars’s head jerked up. “Why didn’t you say earlier?”
“We have been busy,” Adela said. “And I thought it prudent to wait until we were sure of your condition and had any information on Killian.”
Lars lifted one hand, forced to concede the point.
“We’ll need their help anyway when the sorcerer resurfaces,” Damian said. “We can fight him because of his magic, but can’t harm his men.”
“What if we’re forced to fight them for our own safety?” Felix raised his eyebrows.
“Felix, you know the
law.” Damian sent him a pointed look.
“Aye.” Felix sheathed his knife with a snap. “I’ll go to Moss and bring them back.”
“Wait until morning. We know the forest, but they don’t. It will be easier to lead them here in the daylight.”
Felix grumbled agreement and strode off into the trees. Rose half-hoped he would go to Moss immediately, no matter what Damian said. I just want this to be over.
Chapter 28
Einar drummed his fingers against the worn surface of the table. I hate waiting.
Moss had been in an uproar ever since the faery had disappeared. Townsfolk flocked to the inn as the sighting place, but Einar suspected it also served as the central information exchange. It didn’t take long for a stablehand to identify Einar and the king as the ones who spoke to the woman, bringing far too much attention to them. Which hadn’t done much for their attempts at discretion.
Rumors flew regarding their identity, and only out of respect for them as guests did the innkeeper lock his door against the gossiping town.
Jonas paced the empty common room, impatience shortening his steps. The faery had said she would be back two days ago. Einar’s gut told him something bad had happened regarding the boys, and in the absence of news, his imagination was quite happy to run rampant.
The clunk of wood on wood announced the innkeeper’s approach. His gaze fixed intently on Einar as he approached in his peculiar rolling gait. Jonas tracked his progress and edged closer to the table as Niklas halted.
“My Jannik just told me an interesting thing.” He crossed his arms. “Seems tales of t’ Wolf Prince have been circulating again and he’s not t’ only one as remembers those two and their dog.”
“Your point?” Einar leaned on the table.
“Faery sightings, rumors t’ king is off on some mysterious journey himself…” Niklas shrugged. “Now, I mean no offense, but I served t’ king in his army, lost part of my leg for it. And I’m no fool that I can’t recognize you, Sir Einar. But I’d like t’ know who’s under my roof so I might have t’ privilege of serving my king again.”
Jonas regarded the man with the beginnings of respect. “And how was it you lost your leg, Niklas?”
“Wyvern, sir.”
“I thank you then for your service in my name.” Jonas addressed him in the formal cadence reserved for knights or nobles.
Niklas raised one eyebrow, apparently surprised to find his guess confirmed. He bowed low, mumbling a humble, “Your Majesty.”
Jonas shook his head. “For the sake of retaining what little anonymity we have left, you have my permission to dispense with the formality, Niklas. ‘Sir’ will suffice.”
Niklas’s other eyebrow joined its partner. “Don’t know that feels right, sir.” The address rolled slowly off his tongue.
“Would it help if I told you I prefer to just be called ‘sir’ every now and again?” Jonas gave the man a wry smile.
Einar chuckled. It wouldn’t be the first time Jonas had complained about missing the relative simplicity of his time as a knight before taking the crown.
Niklas offered the king his own smile, smoothing his weathered features to those of a much younger man.
“Suppose it might, sir. Now can I get you anything?”
“I’m afraid you can’t get us what we need.” Einar worked his stiff hand.
“Waiting for that faery t’ come back?” Niklas nodded. “Your son, isn’t it, sir?”
Jonas leaned both hands on the chair’s back with a heavy sigh. “Both, I’m afraid.”
Niklas crossed both arms over his burly chest. “My sympathies, sir. Don’t know what I’d do if something happened t’ my Jannik.”
“Hopefully nothing as reckless as practically abandoning your country to go after him.” Jonas tilted the chair back and forth under his hands.
Niklas shook his head with a chuckle. “Not sure anyone could blame you, sir. But I think a tavern might fall t’ chaos quicker than a country if t’ ruler left.” He tilted a wink as Einar and Jonas gave way to laughter. “I’ll be in t’ kitchen if you need anything, sirs.”
He supplemented with a bow and limped away.
Jonas spun the chair around to sit backwards. “I’m going to go crazy, Einar.” He rubbed his eyes with a groan. “Should we go after them?”
“Where?” Einar’s fingers resumed their tapping. “We’ve no idea where she went or where they are. Best keep on waiting.” He loathed the idea himself.
Jonas groaned again as he rested his forehead against the chair back. Einar gave his shoulder a sympathetic pat, which he begrudgingly tolerated.
“Sirs?”
Jannik edged closer, hesitating as they raised their heads.
“There’s someone here t’ see you.”
“Who?” Einar straightened.
Jannik shrugged and gestured over his shoulder. A young man who barely matched Jannik for height, entered the room. His feet made no noise on the floorboards, yet he looked bulky enough to match most of the knights in strength.
Faery? Or worse?
“Who are you?” Einar slid a hand below the table to grab his knife.
“Felix. Adela sent me.”
Einar and Jonas leapt to their feet in unison.
“What happened?” Jonas clutched the back of the chair.
“The sorcerer attacked, Lars was injured, and Killian taken.”
Einar raised his eyebrows as Jonas sank back into his seat. This new faery—Felix—certainly cut right to the point.
“Are they all right?” Einar stared intently at Felix.
“Lars is recovering. But the sorcerer has disappeared with Killian.” Anger and apology warred on Felix’s face.
“What’s—what’s being done?” Jonas’s face still had not regained any color.
“We haven’t stopped looking. I was sent to bring you to our camp.”
“Now?”
“As soon as you’re ready.”
Einar glanced to Jonas and nodded. “Give us fifteen minutes.”
*
The rough bark of the aging pine tree scratched Lars’s back through his tunic. The ache in his side had not abated for hours. He rubbed at the bandage, wincing. He should have taken some of Adela’s medicine earlier.
Damian had gone out scouting again soon after Felix left. Rose and Adela both refused to let Lars do anything but sit and wait for the men to return. At this point, he was slowly going crazy.
Across the clearing, Rose sat with Adela, graciously mending his torn shirt, now scrubbed free of blood. Rose chuckled at their conversation and his heart lifted a little to see her smile. At least she wasn’t blaming herself quite so adamantly. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t take the responsibility. He was supposed to look after them. Protect his brother.
You failed him again. The nagging voice gained strength. Lars rubbed his side again. How am I going to explain this to Father? Along with everything else that has happened. What’s he going to say? Will I get a chance to show him I’m glad to see him?
There had been plenty of lectures over the last few years, and this whole misadventure had been undertaken with the same impulsiveness he’d been warned to temper.
“All right?”
He jerked his head up. Rose had approached unnoticed. Lars tipped a pensive nod.
“I think they’ll just be happy t’ see you.” She offered a half smile.
He tried a reassuring smile, but she didn’t seem fooled. “Maybe.”
Hoofbeats sent another tug of nervousness at his gut. Figures flickered through the trees, his father’s broad figure leading the way. Relief, and a little fear, flashed through him again.
He gripped Rose’s proffered hand, pressing the other against his side as he slowly gained his feet.
“Lars!” His father slid off his horse and rushed to him, grabbing Lars in a fierce hug.
Lars returned it with all his strength, ignoring the pain pulsing in his wound. When he drew back, Einar shoulder
ed his way in, offering a rare embrace.
His father gripped his arm. “You’re hurt? What happened?”
Lars moved his hand from his side, not wanting his father to begin to worry when they had more important matters to focus on. “They say I’ll be fine in another few days. Father, I’m sorry. Killian is…”
“It’s all right, lad.” Jonas held Lars tighter. “Felix told us.”
Lars managed a nod and cleared his throat. Rose edged away, wide-eyed, but he gestured for her to stay.
“Father, this is Rose. Her father trained her as a Ranger. She’s one reason we made it this far.”
Her face flushed red, whether from his words or the presence of more royalty, he couldn’t be sure.
“Your Majesty.” Her voice squeaked, a sure sign she was pretending not to be nervous. Her hands fluttered by her sides and she seemed frozen, undecided between bowing or attempting a curtsey in trousers.
His father solved the problem by extending a hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Rose. Thank you for assisting my sons.”
She hesitantly clasped his hand and nodded.
I’ll tell her how many gaps she just bridged later just to see if her eyes can get any bigger.
Einar gave her the same courtesy. “I’m sorry to hear your father is missing. Any news?”
“No, sir. I’m hoping for something when we find Killian and t’ sorcerer.”
If they were surprised by her informal manner, they didn’t show it.
Lars gave the details as he knew them, starting with the ambush. From the way Einar and his father nodded at some of the details, he guessed they had heard it from Felix.
Adela waited for him to finish before approaching to greet Einar and his father.
“I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly and not returning sooner,” she said.
Jonas waved away the apology. “How is Lars’s wound? How long will it take him to recover?”
I’m almost twenty-one years and standing right next to him. Is he going to ask if I’ve been eating three meals a day next?
Rose caught his eye roll and grinned.
“Now,” Jonas declared when he was satisfied. “Could someone please tell me what happened? From the beginning, if you would.”
The Wolf Prince Page 17