8. Sabine
Chapter 8
Sabine
O n the fifth day, we emerge from the steepest mountains. A few farmsteads dot the hilly landscape, hacking out patches of garden space and pastures amid the forest terrain.
As the valley widens, villages crop up. At first, they’re only a few clusters of homes. As midday approaches, they turn into larger settlements, some of which have trading posts or an inn. But even in these bastions of civilization, the forest always feels barely contained, as though if the villagers don’t keep a close eye on the woods’ perimeter, they’ll wake to vines snaking through their windows.
It can’t be an easy life here, yet perplexingly, every horse we pass is fat, and every wagon is overflowing with bright orange pumpkins. The people do not appear destitute. Children laugh as they play Blindman’s Bluff in the fields. Shopkeepers nod to our long line of soldiers. Happy, dusty dogs chase alongside the goldenclaws.
“You look vexed, Highness,” Tati observes, walking alongside Two .
“In Astagnon,” I start haltingly, “we know little about Volkany, but what we glean does not suggest it is a prosperous kingdom. I was told stories of beggars. Thieves. Starving families eating tree bark.”
Tati chuckles. “Volkany may be a wild kingdom, but it has always been blessed. In every Return, it has been the first to worship the newly woken gods. So, it has earned fae favor. Those who sacrifice to the gods are richly rewarded.”
I shift on my goldenclaw saddle, toe-tapping anxiously, and look over my shoulder at the soldiers following us in formation. Like the Volkish villages, the Volkish army is different from what I’d expected. To be sure, there’s plenty of passed brandy, dice games, and eye-watering course language. However, the presence of female soldiers seems to balance out the regiment’s energy, bringing a kernel of civility.
From what I can tell, most female soldiers belong to the mage faction, commanded by Tati and composed entirely of godkissed soldiers, but I’ve spotted women in the infantry and archery factions, too.
What would you think of this place, Basten?
As soon as I think of Basten, my smile fades. Where is he now? My heart sinks like a stone dropped in a lake. All our months together might mean nothing to him. If I’d been captured two weeks ago, he’d stop at nothing to rescue me. But now, I can’t have faith in that. All of Duren thinks I’m a traitor—I can only imagine the poison he’s hearing about me.
As I struggle to swallow the lump forming in my throat, I become aware of two eyes watching me.
I twist sharply to find the cloudfox ducking behind a glowing emerald fern. My heartbeat rattles off-kilter .
You again? I snap. What do you want?
Despite my angry tone, guilt twists my stomach in knots until my breakfast threatens to come back up. I can’t shake the awful feeling of being inside its head, forcing it to expel electric charges, agonizing along with it under the punishing crush of pain.
Yes, the cloudfox wronged me—but the fact that I caused it pain feels like a betrayal of everything I hold dear. Maybe it’s me I’m really angry with.
Its silver-tipped ears disappear behind a fern, only to appear again a few minutes later, this time on the far side of a fallen log.
Why are you following me? I ask warily.
The cloudfox’s blue eyes glow the same cool hue as a moonlit glacier before it turns and bounds off into the shadows.
On the seventh day, we clear the last mountain pass and get our first view of Norhelm. A deep valley plunges below us in a dramatic V shape, carved by a raging river that tumbles down cliffs to form a series of waterfalls.
Our line of soldiers—stretching back further than I can see—stops to take a final break while a mage scout runs ahead to announce our arrival.
I find a quiet nook at the top of a cliff, where I grip a sapling for safety and gaze down at my father’s capital city.
From here, the capital city looks like a black beetle on the horizon, its spired rooftops forming a glistening shell of menacing spikes. The tallest spires belong to Drahallen Hall, my father’s home and the place of my conception .
Mother , I whisper. Why did you run away?
Of course, ghosts don’t answer.
I found out at my father’s death that my mother had been a concubine to King Rachillon. Her unearthed journals revealed that she stole Myst from the royal stables and fled to Astagnon when she discovered she was pregnant. But her journals didn’t explain why .
Iyre sidles up to me, puffing on a long pipe as she gazes down at the view.
“It’s a striking city, is it not? Two thousand years ago, devotees constructed Drahallen Hall in the King of Fae’s honor after the First Return. The five towers are named for ancient fae monoceros steeds—Aurora, Hailstrom, Sunflare, Stormwatch, and Cloudveil. When we fae awoke for the Second Return, the castle served as the seat of the immortal fae court. As it shall be for this Return.”
“Fascinating,” I say flatly, tightening my grip on the sapling. “All I know of Drahallen Hall is that something so terrible happened within those walls that the idea of birthing a daughter there caused my mother to flee for her life. And mine.”
Iyre blinks calmly. “And now you’ve returned.”
“And now I’ve returned,” I echo with an edge.
“Lady Iyre!” the mage scout shouts, scaling the loose scree at the top of the cliff path. His cheeks burn red from exertion. “His Majesty’s Blades approach from the north.”
The serenity on Iyre’s face falls away. She strides away to her carriage, harnessed atop Six, as she murmurs something under her breath in a language I don’t know.
Among the crowd, I spot Tati testing Three’s harness in preparation for the descent down the mountain.
“Who are the king’s Blades?” I ask .
Tati’s hand pauses on the harness as a shadow briefly crosses her face. “The Blades are His Majesty’s bodyguards. They serve as your father’s advisors. Tasked with carrying out his most vital orders.” She grimaces as she strains to tighten the girth strap, and when she finally buckles it, she parts her lips, a wariness in her eyes. “About the Blade Boys?—”
Before she can warn me, a breathtaking chestnut gelding crests the mountain path, followed by a dappled stallion, then a blue roan mare, and every soldier within eyeshot stops to stare. The horses are beautiful—but their three riders?
Their riders can only be described as absolute fantasies stepped straight out of a painting.
This…is unexpected, I think.
The lead rider is a god of a man, with the typical tanned skin and white-blond hair of the Volkish people, along with a jawline that could slice bread. He wears iron-studded leather armor that cuts into a deep V over chiseled bare abs that would rival river stones.
The second man is a head taller than the first and no less handsome, with skin the color of warm shadows and thick, dreadlocked hair pulled back to show off simmering, hooded eyes.
The third man is all contrasts: raven hair and pale skin. His dark eyes gleam with a strange cloudiness that throws me off, making me unsure where his attention rests. A sleek female hound follows at his mare’s side.
I realize I’m gaping and quickly shut my mouth.
The three men are gorgeous, yet a voice in my head warns me away. I toy with the twine ring on my finger. They lack Basten’s gritty, dark, imperfect beauty, like a diamond hiding in coal.
There’s such a thing as too pretty.
The female soldiers, however, don’t seem to share my sentiments as they transform into swooning fools instead of the deadly archers and sword-wielders I’ve traveled with for days. Even Tati, who has a solid head on her shoulders, surreptitiously cups her hand over her mouth to check for bad breath.
I roll my eyes, and she quickly pretends she was only scratching her nose.
She nods in their direction. “Ghost, Whisper, and Night. Those are the Blade Boys’ code names. Ghost”—she motions to the white-blonde one—“Whisper”—she points to the one with dreadlocks—“and Night.” She indicates the dark-haired one with the hound.
A chill coils in my belly. There’s something about those names that echoes how Basten spent years at Rian’s side, doing his dark bidding without the dignity of his real name.
“Wolf,” I murmur to myself.
Tati frowns. “Pardon, Highness?”
I shake my head as I stutter, “N—nothing.”
The Blade Boys, as Tati calls them, dismount and call for water and wine, which are promptly delivered. They banter with one another, swapping mischievous smiles, commanding the soldiers with effortless confidence.
Ugh, they remind me of Rian.
Iyre strides up to the trio with a sneer. “Boys. What do you think you’re doing here?”
The tall one called Whisper barely spares her a glance, even though she’s a goddess and he’s a mere mortal. “King Rachillon commanded us to escort his daughter the final stretch to Norhelm.”
Iyre narrows her eyes. “I am perfectly capable of?—”
“Is this her?” The blonde one—Ghost—with shoulders as broad as an archer’s bow stalks toward me with a gleam in his green eyes. He’s walking arrogance. I don’t think that smirk has left his face for a second.
I fold my arms tightly across my chest, chin tipped up casually as though I’m unbothered.
Ghost slowly circles me with an appraising eye. “Mmm,” he purrs pensively, letting his eyes travel down my body. “ She’s certainly worth the hunt.”
I bristle and hug my arms tighter.
Whisper smooths a hand over his dreaded locks as he grins wolfishly. “Brighter than the sun itself.”
Night—the one with raven hair and clouded eyes—stalks forward with his sleek hound pressed unwaveringly against his left side. “I’ll take your word for it.”
He’s blind. The realization slams into me with a touch of confusion. One of King Rachillon’s most trusted bodyguards lacks sight?
“May I, Highness?” Night slowly removes one of his black leather gloves, one finger at a time, and flexes his pale hand in the air between us.
It takes me a moment to realize what he means.
“ Oh . Um…I suppose so.”
His hound leads him forward until he’s half a step away. Hesitantly, I take his wrist and guide his fingers to touch my face. His skin is so cold that I shiver on instinct. His fingers are rough and calloused yet as finely wrought as a sculptor’s.
He skims his fingers over the contours of my face, reading my features with a touch that’s somehow both respectful and scandalously intimate.
He lowers his head in a bow. “Lady Sabine. Beautiful as ever.”
“As ever?” I blurt out.
“We’ve been told of your beauty,” Night clarifies. “By the raiders who witnessed your battle in Duren’s arena.”
My muscles tense, unwilling to unwind, as Ghost circles me again while running his thumb over his bottom lip. “What I would do for one night alone with this one.”
“Easy now,” Whisper teases. “You’re drooling, Ghost. If you want fresh meat, visit the cooks at Drahallen Hall, not the king’s daughter’s bed chamber.”
I choke at these men’s gall.
My cheeks flare red as I spit out, “Bold of you to think I won’t slit your throat if you even dare a step toward my bed.” I hold up my hand with Basten’s twine ring on my fourth finger. “In any case, I’m already called for.”
I expect them to beg my pardon, but instead, all three chuckle. Ghost leans close to the raven-haired Night to explain the twine on my finger.
“I’m serious!” I announce. “Laugh if you want, but whether the ring is of twine or gold, I’m engaged to Basten Bowborn of Duren!”
“Highness, forgive us,” Ghost says, sobering quickly, though a hint of mockery still dances in his eyes. “We do not laugh at you .”
“Indeed,” Whisper adds. “We laugh at Immortal Alessantha, who was so cruel as to make you believe this love of yours was real.”
I go so still that I can barely feel my heart pounding in my chest. They talk of cruelty? I’m not sure I have ever heard anything so cruel as their mockery of my love.
I turn away sharply and stomp off to the campfire. This close to the flames, the air is thick, smoky. But at least the Blades lose interest in me in favor of the other, more willing women who sidle up to them.
Girlie. A soft, almost pleading voice comes from behind a flowering shrub. I spin, muscles tensing, and let out a tight breath when I see the cloudfox peeking between the iridescent blue blossoms.
I press my lips together tightly. My first instinct is to tell the cloudfox once more to get out of my sight and leave me alone. I hurt it before—it should know better.
But instead, I ask warily, Why have you been following me? Aren’t you afraid I’ll hurt you again?
The cloudfox’s silvery eyes flash, showing the whites, her paws anxiously prancing a few inches above the grass.
Yes, yes, to the hurt. Her voice trembles, but she holds her ground. But now we are even, yes? Girlie looked into my mind…I looked into girlie’s, too.
I wrinkle my brow, still braced for danger. What do you mean?
I saw… Her voice softens to a hush. I saw girlie has the power to grant a name. I saw what girlie really is. I am…pulled…to girlie.
I glance over my shoulder, instinctively checking that we’re alone. You want a name? That’s what this is about?
She nods eagerly, her blue tongue lolling.
I twist my twine ring, unsure if I can trust her. The request shouldn’t completely catch me off guard. Regular animals—mice, cats, birds—don’t care about names. They can’t grasp the concept of a name's meaning. They simply identify one another by rudimentary features like feather color or tail shape.
But fae creatures, I’m learning, crave a name.
For them, names hold immense power. They cannot give themselves a name; it must be uncovered like a long-buried treasure, revealed only with patience and insight. It took me weeks, but when I finally discovered Tòrr’s name, I was able to achieve the impossible—to mount and command him.
I will find your name, I promise the cloudfox, but in return, you must do something for me.
I glance at Iyre’s carriage. She keeps it locked and guarded by Paz, her companion, so there is no way to sneak in to access the bottles now. I’ll have to wait until she moves them to her tower room.
The cloudfox’s bushy tail wags, throwing off small puffs of cloud that dissipate into the air. Name your task!
I pause. First, how can I trust you?
Her rump wiggles as she prances. We will strike a fae bargain!
I’m unsure what exactly she means. And if you lie again?
Does girlie not know anything? Fae bargains are binding! She sits straight and recites a singsong rhyme. ‘A pinch of earth to close the deal; what’s given now, the ground will seal.’
She scratches her silver claws in the dirt and looks at me expectantly.
I scoop a small pinch of the loosened soil and rub it between my fingertips. Like this?
Yes, yes. We mix our earth. The deal is sealed.
She drags her paw through our two piles of soil until they’re one .
This is new information to me. The Book of the Immortals mentions fae bargains only in passing. As far as I know, fae can lie, cheat, and steal with impunity. The fact that anything at all can bind them is…powerful.
Slowly, I brush the dirt off my fingers.
When we reach Drahallen Hall, I say, Come find me. I will give you instructions.
The cloudfox bobs her chin excitedly. She crouches to bound off into the woods but then pauses and turns back.
Girlie should be more careful around the woman in white , she warns.
I let the last of the soil fall between my fingers as my blood runs cold. Why?
Your cup held wine , she says. But the fae’s cup did not.
The cloudfox doesn’t wait for my response. With a flick of her tail, she springs off into the woods, disappearing in a blur of silver-blue. I watch her vanish, my heart pounding harder than it should. Her final words echo in my mind, making my stomach twist.
I glance back at Iyre’s carriage. Your cup held wine. But the fae’s cup did not.
My throat tightens, a bitter taste rising.
Blood. I knew it. Iyre had been drinking blood.
But why? Is that what she does with Paz? What does she gain from it? I’ve read every story in the Iyre chapter of the Book of the Immortals, which say nothing about drinking blood.
I press a hand against the tattered ribbons on my bodice, forcing myself to breathe, but the knot in my stomach only tightens.
When I turn back around, Iyre is right behind me.
I jump, sucking in air. “Iyre! ”
Her eyes glow faintly. “We’re almost to Norhelm, princess. And I need to remind those boys who’s really in charge here.”
My shoulders ease as I realize she didn’t see my exchange with the cloudfox. I glance over her shoulder at the Blades gathered around the campfire, their laughter cutting through the smoke. “How exactly are you going to do that?”
“Easy.” As she reaches toward my temple, I realize a second too late what she has in mind. “Like this.”
My muscles tense, but there’s nowhere for me to run. Iyre’s silken fingertips graze my hairline to the left of my brow, and before I can even suck in my next breath, everything goes dark.
I fall, fall, fall into a void as black as night.