Chapter 36 Jess
We rode until the sun crested the mountains, offering a hint of light to come. We found a small wooded area a few hundred paces off the road where we could get some rest. Danym was adamant we only travel at night. It would add days to our trip, but he argued safety was more important than speed.
It felt strange to stop during the day.
I found that even though I was tired, the sun kept me awake. I drifted over to Danym’s horse. It was a rather portly chestnut who looked as though she would rather be grazing in a pasture than serving as their get-away mount.
“Can you talk to her?” Danym asked.
“That’s not really how it goes,” I said, stroking my hand over the bridge of the mare’s face. “I think she likes you.”
“I don’t think she has a name,” he said.
“I don’t think so either.”
I was tempted to question our stop but reminded myself that Danym had yet to be wrong about such things, and I knew very little about the King’s Road past the Spires.
We would wait during the day, whether I could sleep or not.
Throughout the nights that followed, something unexpected and beautiful unfurled before me: I began to realize how vast and empty much of the Kingdom was. I lost track of how many miles we’d traveled without seeing a single building or house.
My tutors had drilled me in the history and geography of the land, but the Kingdom was quite different when seen from horseback. I peered up at the unending ocean of stars and laughed softly to myself. Only a short time before, I’d seen the Palace as huge, a world unto itself.
Now, everything seemed so small.
My focus shifted to a forest above the ridge ahead.
A family of deer was grazing and darted away at our approach.
Places on the map seemed so distant and irrelevant when they only existed as part of a lecture or exam.
I stared in wonder at the majesty of the land I felt I was meeting for the first time.
Then my mind wandered back to the innkeeper who’d risked so much for us, all in the name of love. She was kind and caring, ultimately aiding us in our flight for freedom. We hadn’t even thought to ask the woman her name.
It felt strange that an old woman would be so enamored with the royal family.
Then again, I supposed that was the point of having royals, to give commoners something to look up to, an ideal to which they could aspire.
But as much as I enjoyed our time in the inn, I couldn’t imagine spending thirty minutes working in one—certainly not thirty years.
Still, the woman had treated me more as a daughter than one of her betters.
Father would tell me to look for the lesson, to find the kernel in every experience that might reveal how to understand our people, to see their needs and hear their desires, to be a better ruler.
Spirits, I heard that a thousand times.
So, what was the kernel with the innkeeper?
Or with the Constables who saved us and healed Danym?
I hadn’t really thought about them, and they hadn’t even known who I was when they’d risked their lives on my behalf.
Would I have been kind in the innkeeper’s place, sheltering strangers running from powerful parents?
Would I risk myself to save another?
The answer that stirred deep within sent a chill of shame down my spine.
I’d spent the last ten years fighting my parents every time they tried to teach me; and now, when I’d finally won my freedom, I couldn’t stop trying to find the lesson.
Danym’s horse snorted, and I watched as he bent to stroke its neck and mutter calming words.
I smiled, and my mind wandered back to the day we first met.
I’d been riding Dittler through the capital after heavy rains.
Murky water filled pockets in the city’s crumbling streets, making the jaunt both hazardous and filthy.
As I rounded a turn, Dittler stomped squarely into a puddle, splashing muck all around, coating the young man walking toward me.
I remembered every clump of mud and how it had clung to his hair.
Even more, I remembered the indignant bird-like squawk that escaped Danym’s lips and the way he flapped his arms in disgust.
A laugh slipped out, causing Danym to turn. “Did I miss something funny?”
“Oh, no. Just remembering . . . something.” Despite my exhaustion, I was finally happy.
Danym turned back to peer at the road ahead.
He sat so tall and proud, yet he was so warm and gentle—and beautiful. I couldn’t miss that. His youthful face caused music to play in my heart, and its beat quickened at the thought of his caress on my cheek, his eyes meeting mine.
He’d also shown himself capable of making shrewd decisions in the face of challenging situations.
I definitely made the right decision leaving for a new life with him.
Leaving.
That word tasted bitter on my tongue.
Something inside tugged, some annoying prickle in my chest that nearly made me squirm in my saddle.
My entire life had revolved around duty, serving the needs and whims of others. It was all I’d ever known, all I ever expected to do.
And yet, here I was, leaving all of that behind.
Leaving my duty.
Leaving my people.
Nausea threatened as I pondered my choices and the ripples they had created.
A high-pitched shriek brought me back to the present. Danym’s head whirled around, and he traced an arrow as it crossed the full moon.
“That’s a patrol signal. They’ve spotted us.” He urged his mare onward. “Come on, we can lose them if we move fast enough.”
The King’s Road was long and straight once travelers made it past a major bend that occurred roughly halfway through the journey toward Cradle. As we raced for our freedom for the third time in less than a month, that bend loomed in the distance.
The sound of hooves thundered behind.
A plume of dust billowed in the distance.
So many.
Danym turned and yelled, “They’re gaining on us!”
“Come on, Dit. Give me more, please.”
Danym’s head whipped about, then fixed on a break in the trees off the road.
He yelled back over his shoulder, pointing. “We’re not going to lose them, not like this. Keep going straight, Jess. I’ll break off and lead them away. Meet me in Cradle!”
“Danym, no! Don’t leave me alone!” I screamed as he turned and headed off the road.
The rump of his mare vanished into the darkness.
I was alone.
As badly as I wanted to follow, I focused on the road ahead and begged Dittler for speed.
He relished the chance to run after so many days of trotting and soared in a blur of fur and mane and hooves.
If I hadn’t been so terrified by the thought of being captured, I would’ve loved the wind in my face and the thrill of flying through the countryside.
But there were men chasing me, men who would take me back.
As Dittler flew, the gap widened, and I lost sight of my pursuers as the bend came into view.
We finally reached the crest of the hill as the road began its turn, forcing Dittler to slow.
As we rounded the bend, my heart stilled.
I was too stunned to scream.
Eight men in dark robes waited, four on horseback and two standing on either side of the road. The mounted men held bows, nocked and ready. Those standing lifted small tubes to their lips.
“Danym!” I screamed, finally finding my voice.
He was nowhere to be seen.
One of the men raised a palm and called out in a metallic voice muffled by his mask, “STOP!”
I spurred Dittler, but he was spooked and spent.
He reared.
I barely held on.
“Come with us, Your Highness,” the man said, his voice a whisper brushing against my ears that somehow rose above the clamor of hooves.
Tears streaked down my face.
My mind raced.
How could this be happening? Where were those damn Constables?
I looked closer at one of the men, at his terrifying mask.
This isn’t happening! my mind screamed. I have to turn back. The Constables will help.
I gave Dittler a sharp kick in his flanks, and he whinnied, but before he could wheel about, two darts struck, one in his shoulder and the other his neck. He reared once more, then staggered as two of the robed men raced to our side.
A sharp pain pierced my shoulder, and I stared down in horror to find a dart poking through my tunic.
The world spun and blurred.
The two men, one wearing the face of a lion, the other an angry raccoon, pulled at my numbing limbs and lowered me to the ground.
I stared up at the night sky.
Terror faded to emptiness, and the face of a raccoon appeared overhead.
I gazed at the mask, trying to make sense of its snarling features. It reminded me of something that I couldn’t quite grasp—someone I knew.
Then I saw its eyes.
They weren’t black.
I knew those eyes.
His eyes.
I’d know them anywhere.
They were so deep and green.
“Danym? No . . .”