Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Mind the mist.
It does not lift.
The Spirit doth hunt, ever adrift.
Stay out of the wood,
Be wary, be good.
The Spirit doth hunt, ever adrift.
Mind the mist.
It does not lift.
The Spirit ensnares, like grain through a sift.
Hold tight to your charm,
And you’ll come to no harm.
The Spirit ensnares, like grain through a sift.
W e’d been in the armory only a short while before Thistle, kind as he was, made it abundantly clear I was no use to them in a dress.
Elm snickered, his green eyes roving my body, resting on the flower crown in my hair. “But she’s made such an effort to look pretty today.”
Jespyr elbowed her cousin. “Shut it. We’ve enough to do without your tripe.”
Two servants arrived, carrying a bundle—tunic, jerkin, cloak, leggings, and boots. Wool, linen, and leather, all black. One by one the others filed out, leaving Ravyn and me alone.
I frowned at my gray dress, its hem muddied by the tromp through the garden. “I wasn’t aware I’d dressed improperly,” I said, suddenly deeply conscious of my appearance.
“We can’t exactly wear our family seals, can we?” Ravyn said. He paused, gently extracting the flower crown from my hair. “I’ll have your clothes sent back to your room. Join us when you’re ready.”
If he looked back at me as he slipped through the armory doors, I did not know it. I was trying with all my might not to look back at him.
Five minutes later I was leaning against the door, willing myself to open it.
The Nightmare shot hot air out his nostrils. By the trees—They’re just leggings, Elspeth.
I felt exposed, naked without my wool skirt. I plaited a long knotted braid in my hair that started at the crown of my head and traveled like a rope down my back.
The Yew girl wears a tunic and pants. Why not you?
Jespyr’s entirely more fearsome than I am. I glanced down at my legs. I look like a bloody stable boy.
How you look is—and perhaps always has been—utterly irrelevant.
I groaned, wishing him gone. Still, he was right. This wasn’t about me. This was about Cards, mist, and blood. What did it matter if I was dressed in clothes suspiciously similar to those of a boy Emory’s age? If I was going to take up with highwaymen, I had to look the part.
After a final rattling breath, I pushed my way through the armory door.
They waited, clustered at the entrance of the yard. When they saw me, one of the Ivy brothers whistled, only to be silenced by Jespyr’s sharp elbow.
I didn’t know where to look. “Well?” I stepped forward, my hands knotted in my sleeves. “Am I better suited for the task?”
I didn’t miss the way Ravyn’s eyes jumped up and down my body. “Much better,” he said, a flush inching up his neck into his cheeks. He handed me two finely sewn gloves. “You’ll need these.”
I stared at them. “Riding gloves?”
“Did you think we’d be walking?” said Elm.
“We get to the Black Forest on horseback,” Jespyr explained. “The rest of the way we travel on foot, out of sight in the mist. When Pine’s carriage passes, we halt it. You tell us where to find his Iron Gate, and we’re in and out in less than five minutes.”
I surveyed the group. For a party without the intention of violence, they were curiously well armed. “Then what?”
“Then we’ll come back,” Elm said. “And you can tell us all about the Well Card in your father’s house.”
Ravyn, Elm, and I remained in the stable while the others retreated for final supplies. “You’ll be needing a horse,” Ravyn said, retrieving a brown mare from one of the stalls. When I paled and stepped away, he raised his brows. “Don’t tell me you’ve never ridden a horse before?”
Elm’s scoff filled the stable. “Good god, what were you doing all these years in the forest?”
I glanced at him through narrowed eyes. “Animals don’t like me much.”
The Prince took a seat atop a nearby bench. “If that doesn’t tell you something,” he said under his breath.
Ravyn ignored his cousin, holding out the reins to me. “Horses are skittish,” he said. “You need to be calm—assured. Once she feels safe, she’ll trust you.” When I didn’t reach for the reins, he leaned against the horse. “Do you want me to help you?”
It felt like a challenge. And how I wanted to deny him—to see the impress on his face when I took the reins and mounted the beast without him. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know a damn thing about horses. “If it’s not too much trouble, Captain.”
His stone expression eased, the corner of his lips tugging. He’d won the challenge. He took my hand and pulled me next to him. “Put your hand here,” he said, holding my gaze as he stripped away my glove. He placed my palm on the horse’s flank just below the saddle. “Feel her breath, her energy.”
The mare’s eyes widened, her nostrils flaring as my hand roved across her side. My fingers moved across her broad back and the coarse mane along her neck. Calm , I told myself. Calm, assured.
It cannot be , the Nightmare purred. She knows you’re not alone. She knows she’s not safe.
The horse stirred and took a step away, raising her head and swishing her tail.
“Easy, girl,” Ravyn said, patting her firmly. When she’d recovered, his gaze returned to me. “Shall I help you up?”
Trees, I was tired of giving him the satisfaction. “Fine,” I said.
But in the end, the victory was mine. When Ravyn stepped to me, he hesitated, the flush from before returning to his jawline.
Our eyes met a moment. Then, as if he was proving something to himself, he reached for me.
His hands, broad and firm, met me at the dip of my waist, resting a moment on my hips.
They were warm, his hands. And I caught myself wondering what the calluses along his palms would feel like against my bare skin.
He inhaled sharply, lifting me with ease and placing me on saddle.
I sat there a moment, unsure what to do with my legs.
It felt crass, swinging a leg over to ride astraddle, but instinct told me if I didn’t, I would incur more scathing ridicule from Elm, who remained on the bench, his Princely face fixed in an expression somewhere between humor and revulsion.
But the moment I swung my leg over, my thighs flexing around the saddle, I felt I’d made a terrible mistake. The smell of hay and sweat wafted off the mare, her skin flinching beneath my touch. I sat like a rock in the saddle, clinging for dear life to the horse’s mane. “Where do I hold?”
“Try the reins,” Elm called.
Ravyn put his hand on my ankle. “Take a breath, Miss Spindle. She’s nervous because you’re nervous.”
“Or because she doesn’t know what you are,” Elm offered.
Trust me, she knows exactly what you are , the Nightmare cackled. Watch this.
His hiss radiated through me—an animal noise that seized my muscles—an invisible calling to the horse beneath me.
The mare reared, struck by a sudden panic that sent her screaming from the stable.
I didn’t recall falling. Only that it hurt like hell.
When I came to, the horse was gone, and the low, silky laughter of the Nightmare echoed through my skull. Ravyn and Elm knelt at my sides, their eyes wide as they stared down at me.
“Trees.” Ravyn tucked his hand behind my neck, cradling the top of my spine. “Can you hear me?”
I tried to sit up. Dizziness struck me, and I heaved a long, aching breath, wind rushing back into my lungs. “I—told—you,” I wheezed. “Animals don’t—like me.”
Ravyn and Elm exchanged a glance. A small, mischievous smile crossed the Prince’s lips. “Well,” he said. “That was unexpected.”
I coughed, pushing to an upright position. “Don’t look so pleased.”
Ravyn’s hand slid from the back of my neck to my shoulder. “Anything feel broken?”
Only my pride , I fumed into the darkness. What the hell was that?
Just a bit of fun.
I could have died!
Don’t be dramatic , the Nightmare said. People fall off horses every day.
That doesn’t make it a particularly pleasant experience.
At least now you realize what you’re getting yourself into—who you really are.
“Miss Spindle?”
I snapped back to Ravyn. “Nothing’s broken,” I said.
“She’s fine,” Elm yelled, footsteps rushing toward us.
Jespyr and Thistle skidded to a halt nearby. “You’ll have a few bruises, no mistake,” Thistle said.
I blushed red to my roots. “Did everyone see?”
“No,” Elm said. “Just the servants, the fletcher, the groomsmen, the blacksmith—”
“Enough,” Ravyn growled. “We’ve got to get going.”
“We can’t go now,” Jespyr said, gesturing at me. “She’ll fall to her death.”
Elm yawned. “She’ll be fine. Strap her to the beast and be done with it.”
Nausea hit my stomach anew. “Strap me?”
“No one’s going to strap you in,” Thistle said. “What about a carriage?”
Elm shook his head. “They’ll hear us a mile out.”
They debated transportation. I said nothing, keeping my eyes straight ahead as I inched my fingers up and down my ribs, wincing.
There would surely be bruises.
“I still think we should use a carriage,” Jespyr said. “If we stash it a mile into the wood, they won’t hear it.”
“And if they see fit to chase us?” Elm bit back. “Last time I checked, you couldn’t outrun a warhorse, cousin.”
Jespyr pulled her Black Horse Card from her pocket. “Is that a wager?”
“Both of you, shut up,” Ravyn said. “Collect your charms and go to your horses. Thistle, find the Ivys. We leave in five minutes.”
They scuttled away, a few final scowls darting between Jespyr and Elm.
Ravyn turned to me, his voice low. “Are you all right? Truly?”
I coughed, then winced. “I’ll survive.”
“May I?”
There he was again, asking to touch me. I nodded, and when his hand traced up and down my rib cage, I almost forgot the pain, too worried he’d feel the rapid beat of my heart.
“You’ll be all right,” he said, pulling his hand away, almost too fast. “I’m sorry, Miss Spindle. We’ve no choice but to go on horseback. Your best option is to ride with our most skilled horseman—so that he might thwart any of the animal’s unease.”
I eyed him narrowly. “And who, pray tell, is your most skilled horseman?”