Chapter Twenty-Two
Little is said as one of the riders leads an extra horse up to me. There is no warm welcome, no exclamations of relief at having finally found a long-lost member of House Harkyn.
Not that I was expecting that, exactly.
But I was maybe expecting some sort of explanation.
I mount the small black horse I’m given and the riders gesture for me to follow them away from Shadow’s Keep, down the narrow winding road through the rolling meadows at the foothills of the mountains.
In the distance, a dark fringe of forest hugs the path, which splits before it reaches the trees.
When we reach the fork and head left, to the northeast, I finally break my silence.
“Does anyone plan to tell me what’s going on here?”
The closest rider, a man around my age with brownish-red hair, turns around to look at me, his eyes wide as if shocked by my manners.
But I’m tired of this. All of this. If these are the people who have been hunting me for nearly a decade, and if they’ve orchestrated this entire ruse, invoking an ancient tournament and naming me as champion, using me as a pawn to take over Aureon or whatever end game they’re playing at, I’m not just going to sit here and say nothing.
I deserve a goddamn explanation.
There’s a woman riding at the head of the group of five riders, and she also turns and looks at me.
She is older, perhaps by twenty years, and I can see wisps of red hair peeking out from the folds of her cloak.
Red hair like mine. Her expression is one of quiet appraisal, and also one that brokers no argument.
“I suppose I could ask you the same question,” she says.
I stiffen on my horse. “You’re the ones who showed up, claiming to be my family and dragging me off to some insane tournament to take the crown from the Queen.”
“Claiming to be your family?” The woman chuckles.
And then it occurs to me—something that should have occurred to me sooner. But everything had happened so quickly...
“You may not realize this, but I don’t know who any of you are,” I say slowly. “I don’t remember anything about my life before eight years ago. I don’t know who my family is.”
Silence falls among the riders, and for many moments the only sound that can be heard is the hoofbeats of the horses and the rustling of the grasses around us.
“Well,” the flamed-haired woman finally says. “That is very, very interesting.”
I wait for her to say more, but after several more moments pass, I realize she’s not planning to elaborate. “I’m glad my amnesia is interesting to you, but I’d still like to know why I’ve been summoned and where we’re going.”
“You already said you know about being named champion in the tournament.” The woman shrugs, not bothering to turn around this time. “That’s why you’ve been summoned, clearly, and we’re going to the location of the tournament. Corla Arnan Vor.”
So, that’s how this was going to go, apparently.
“Thank you for the detailed explanation and hospitable welcome,” I respond, letting every bit of anger and bitterness drip into my tone. “Delighted to be back among family again.”
The woman chuckles again, a sound completely without mirth. “Oh, we’re not your family, girl. And if you’re pleased with our welcome, you’re in for a true treat when we deliver you to those who are.”
A shiver runs across my skin at her words.
I don’t bother asking further questions—it’s clear I’m not going to get any information out of her.
My instincts had been right all along, all these years of running.
There will be no loving reunion. It makes sense, now, why the townspeople of Terlian didn’t know the family who had briefly taken up residence before the tragic fire that claimed their lives.
My parents were likely on the run from their family even then.
What I don’t know is why exactly.
But that’s a mystery I’ll soon know the answer to, because my time of running is over. Fate has at last caught up to me.
We ride through the rest of the day, and on through the night.
The grasslands give way to forests which give way to a rocky wasteland strewn with boulders.
My eyes grow heavy as the moon reaches its zenith, but still we ride on.
I want to ask if they plan on stopping for a meal or to sleep, but I doubt very much I’ll get an answer, and I won’t provide them with the satisfaction.
When we do stop, it’s only to give the horses water and relieve ourselves.
I notice a couple of times the riders ahead of me pulling dried jerky from their saddle bags, but when I check mine, I find that they are empty.
When dawn finally breaks, I am half delirious from sleep deprivation, pain, and hunger.
We’ve been riding for almost twenty-four hours.
The only thing I can be glad of is that my horse is steady and sure-footed; otherwise, I would have fallen off by now.
My joints are in a state of pain they haven’t been in for years due to sitting in the same position all this time.
The pain is so intense I can’t even see straight.
But as the sun illuminates the landscape around me, I begin to make out fuzzy details.
The gray terrain has shifted to a green one, though still as hilly and boulder-strewn as before.
Deep chasms cut the land, and sharp peaks jut into the sky above.
We cross several narrow wooden bridges that look like death traps before turning into a wide valley with peaks on either side, emerald green as if coated in velvet.
Far ahead, I can see a wide expanse of blue at the other end of the valley.
It takes nearly an hour to traverse the length of the valley, and as we approach the end, I can see that the blue is two shades: sky and sea.
The valley ends at a massive cliff overlooking an ocean that stretches as far as my eyes can follow.
Beyond the cliff’s edge, dozens of small islands break the surface of the water, an archipelago of varying shades of jade green.
My mind flits to Daemon, and those sea-green eyes.
We never said goodbye. I don’t know why that bothers me so much, given everything else that’s going on, given that I likely won’t live past the next few days.
The idea of never seeing Daemon again leaves a hollow feeling in my chest that echoes with the sound of the distant waves.
But I don’t have the luxury of dwelling on it any longer, because the woman at the head of the pack of riders turns to me for the first time since we spoke outside Shadow’s Keep all those hours ago.
She points to a cluster of tents sitting a short distance from the cliff’s edge, red like the cloak she wears.
“You asked about your family? They’re waiting for you there.”
My eyes sweep over the tents, over the banners flying above them, a hawk with flaming wings on a black background. Standing in the entrance of the biggest tent are two figures, a man and a woman.
It takes every ounce of strength and willpower in my body not to fall when I slide off my horse, my body screaming in pain.
But I do not fall.
I straighten, and I turn to face the fate I’d been running from for the last eight years.