Chapter 3
My footsteps echo in the empty hallways of the governor's manor. The leather strap of the traveling bag catches on the broad sword sheathed at my back, both thumping against me as I march towards the courtyard and the captain waiting for me.
It’s always quiet in the hours before sunrise, but even more so today. Bundled in cloaks of green to fight the chill of the late winter air, every other noble in the Emerald Region has traded in their comfy beds for the plush pews of the Grand Temple.
Sunrise on the twelfth day—the only time the Golden Pantheon deems their worshippers worthy enough of their attention—is a required day of petitioning. But I have no time for prayers that consistently go unanswered or gods who turned their backs on me years ago.
The bell tolls announcing the six o’clock hour and the start of their sacred service. With each ring, dread washes over me in a wave, causing my steps to slow. Somehow I know, deep in the recesses of my soul, that the woman who returns won’t be the same one who leaves today.
If I return at all.
The Captain of Corinth stands across the deserted courtyard beside two saddled mares, his focus on the temple that looms outside the manor walls. I move slowly, assessing him before he notices my presence.
Sunlight peeks through the clouds, the first light of day ringing his head in a regal, god-like glow.
He tightens the straps of the leather pauldrons that span his broad shoulders.
There’s a slight tremble to his hands as they skate down his sides, visible even from here.
His lips move in a soundless, murmured prayer as he turns to face me.
Magic tingles under the surface of my skin, the weight of his gaze heightening the power within me.
“Morning, Captain.” I hold my head high as I step out from the overhang and make my way towards my horse. “No desire to go to temple before we leave?”
“I have little love for those gods,” he answers matter-of-factly. “From what I hear, neither do you.”
“I have little love for those who take away the choices of others. It makes no difference to me if they're kings or gods.”
“I know you didn’t choose to follow me…” he starts.
“Follow?” I scoff. “I think you have the wrong impression of this dynamic, Captain. I don’t follow you.”
“Maybe not yet, my lady, but it’s a long road to Amale.” The corner of his lip hitches up in a smirk.
“We’ll see who follows whom, Captain.”
I pluck a dagger from the saddle bag and casually flip it before sliding it into the sheath strapped to my thigh. I’ve dealt with plenty of men like him before, and it’s best to show yourself as a formidable opponent early on, asserting dominance like you would with any dog.
I pull myself up with the saddle pommel, swinging one leg over and mounting the caramel-colored mare “Oh, and drop the ‘my lady’ bullshit. As you pointed out, it’s a long road to Amale so let’s not pretend that you’ve been ordered to respect me by a Lord General who certainly doesn’t.”
His eyes narrow at my directness, a quality that the other rulers of Corinth don’t possess. But political niceties matter little when everyone already hates you and I much prefer to see the shock on their faces than waste time with fake pleasantries.
“What would you have me call you?”
“You’ll figure something out, I’m sure of it,” I shrug.
Bitch. Poison. Cunt.
I’m not going to recite the ever growing list of names that people find synonymous with mine. He seems more than capable of picking one on his own.
“You seem to have a fondness for sharp things.”
He points to the broadsword strapped to my back before lifting a knuckle and quickly rapping the side of my boot. Steel knocks against the round knot of my ankle and I have to swallow the reflexive bite of pain. Amusement gleams in his storm-gray eyes. “Are you trying to send a message?”
“Never underestimate the power an appearance holds, Captain.” I smooth my sweaty palms down my leather corset, the faux boning within concealing thin blades. An appearance is something I know how to wield even better than a blade.
Captain Murphy nods once, slowly and deliberately, before turning to mount his own horse.
My magic sparks again, ever so slightly, urging me to watch him intently.
Urging me to pay attention to his appearance.
Not just the outward, overly handsome soldier, but the barely perceptible sliver of who lies beneath.
The person I have to uncover if I’m going to figure out how best to use him.
I spur my horse towards the iron gates, taking one last look around at the stone manor and its ivy-covered towers now fully illuminated by the shining orange hues of the morning sun. A cool breeze whips through my hair as it sweeps past, its path the same as mine: away from home.
The holy day means no foot traffic in and out of the capital city of the Emerald Region. We pass no merchants pulling wagons of goods or traveling bards to entertain us as we trudge through the dirt road that cuts through the Godswood.
The absence of any noise besides the sound of our horses’ hooves quickly becomes the soundtrack of our travels.
Trees, trees, and more trees blur into a mass of greens and browns as we pass.
My eyelids droop, heavy from the hours of sleep stolen by restless nightmares.
The steady, rhythmic swaying of the horse lulls me closer towards unconsciousness with every step.
Captain Murphy’s gray mare stops suddenly, snapping me to attention.
He lifts a single hand in command, the forest seeming to still around us.
A low, foreboding growl echoes through the trees, the noise causing the horses to take a cautious step back, anxious to run but held in place only by each of our firm grips on their reins.
Another bated second passes before the source of the noise makes itself known.
A large brown bear, nearly the size of my mare, prowls from between the trees, stopping and rising to stand on its hind legs in the middle of the dirt road.
The animal’s beady black eyes are trained on us in warning.
The air is charged, thick with anticipation of what comes next.
Instinctively, I raise my hand to rest on the hilt of the broadsword sheathed across my back. I have no logical reason to kill the bear. The Godswood is its home, after all, and I am the trespasser.
But something deep and primal within me wants to eliminate it. The dark side of my earth magic calling for the balance that I always deny it. I grant it life but never death, growth but never decay.
“I’m sure you know how to use those blades, but I doubt you can take down a fully grown bear.” Captain Murphy’s voice is stern but low so as to not disturb the animal before us.
I don’t take my eyes off the bear, choosing to stare straight into its black irises. There’s a war raging within me, a quiet battle between my head and my power. He’s right—I can’t take it down with my blade alone.
My mind races with a thousand solutions, all impossible without using at least a small part of my magic. If I’m going to tempt the bear to leave us alone without any bloodshed, I have to distract the captain.
“You’re right,” I concede, dropping my hand slowly from my blade. “You’re the highly-trained swordsman, not me. Do your soldier thing and run it off.”
“My soldier thing?” he scoffs. “You’re a princess. Can’t you talk to it or something?”
“I’m not a princess, and, in case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t some child’s fairytale story.”
“I disagree,” he says. “You’re an heir who sleeps in a godsdamn tower. That’s definitely princess shit.”
“While I’m touched that you’ve been thinking about where I sleep, you should probably focus more on the bear.”
Playing right into my hand, two brown heads peer around the corner of a tree.
“To your left, Captain. Just past the second birch tree. Are those cubs?” I whisper.
Captain Murphy turns his gaze away from the bear and scans the tree line. I seize the only second I might have and let my magic escape with a gentle flick of my wrist towards the thicket on our right. Red winter berries spring to life in the bushes several yards off the path.
The bear watches me intently, following the motion of my hand before giving a loud snort at the sight of fresh food. The sound draws the captain’s full attention back to the road and my only chance to use my magic without detection is now gone.
It’ll have to be enough.
“Go on now. Eat,” I urge softly.
Two balls of brown fur prance out from behind their hiding places and head straight towards the bushes, the mother bear following closely behind. When the animals disappear into the thicket, I finally exhale a small, shaky sigh of relief.
Captain Murphy shakes his head, murmuring as he urges his mare in slow, steady steps. “Fucking princess.”