15. Mare
Mare
Ifell on my hands and knees in the mud, battered and broken. Breathing heavily, I stared at the slurry of snow and dirt.
Wet, cold, a mess. A perfect reflection of myself.
The golden rapier hovering by my face retracted. Paragon Tiernan sheathed his blade and stepped back. "You're getting better at this."
Better? Heaving in a breath, I staggered to my feet, aching limbs protesting every motion.
The Paragon looked perfect. His armor and surcoat remained pristine as ever, and his red waves fell neatly around his shoulders.
Sweat coated my brow and hair. Tufts of frizzy white stuck out from my braid from my crown to mid-back.
We'd woken at the crack of dawn and trained for two hours straight. Now we'd mount and ride until nightfall, then repeat it all tomorrow.
I'd had no time to ask my new mentor even basic questions. Either he was relentlessly trying to kill me, or I was nodding off on my elk.
"How much longer until we reach the fort?" I asked, wiping the mud from my hands. Cierthine lay a few paces away, at the base of a broad tree.
"Three days," Paragon Tiernan said. He watched me intently as I retrieved my blade and sheathed it. "We should reach a little hamlet this evening. We can rest there and finally talk. Properly."
I wanted to say 'oh good, you aren't a mute thug,' but all I managed was a weary nod.
We packed up the mounts in silence and set out. The Paragon had been masking his emotions well, but I could tell in his stiff posture and restless gaze that he was worried.
He and Killian might have been friends. Should I offer my condolences?
I would later, at the inn.
Relaxing, I watched the passing trees through half-closed lids.
Soon we'd cross into Muirashi’s southern wetlands—fields that stretched to the shores of the great lake. I'd never traveled this way before. Lifting my head, I watched the white horse trotting on the road ahead of me and tried not to fret.
These hours might be some of my last. A sea of regret churned within me, realizing how little I'd accomplished. How dissatisfied I'd feel, at the end.
With evening's arrival, the trees grew sparse. We rode into a rolling field dotted with ponds and a single babbling brook. A tiny hamlet awaited us, little more than a crossroads inn and gathering of houses.
Warm thoughts of a comfortable bed and a hot bath soothed me until we rode past the townspeople.
Most were Muirashins: dark-haired, fair-skinned with eyes in every shade of blue—brilliant like the colors of the sea.
In their vivid eyes, I found only ice. They glared openly at me—men, women, and children all.
A woman, wearing pants, dressed like a soldier, with a sword strapped at her belt.
Paragon Tiernan pulled his white horse around to trot at my side. Our steeds sloshed through the muddy crossroad, tired from ceaseless riding. He kept a rapt watch on my admirers as we tied up the mounts outside the inn and ascended the steps.
The Forlaith Empire deemed women lesser, inferior to men. But Muirashi had employed strict gender roles even before falling under the Solhearts’ control.
Holding my head high, I followed the Paragon into the ramshackle inn. One look at the rickety wooden slats told me that hoping for a comfortable bed had been foolish.
An enormous brick hearth centered the room, melting the chill from my skin. A handful of people sat around low wooden tables. They froze—gazes locked on the Solheart who had just strode in and the woman behind him.
A hush fell over the room as they bowed their heads and stared at their food, terrified to make eye contact.
"Pick a spot," the Paragon said before leaving to find the innkeeper.
Keeping my eyes down, I pulled out a chair near the hearth and felt its warmth blanket my back.
My keeper returned quicker than expected. He leaned on the back of a chair. "Would you rather have a normal conversation first or talk about our mission?"
"Work first," I said. "I don't have a drink yet."
He smiled faintly. "Have you been to Minsawa before?"
"No. That's our destination?"
He nodded. "Killian sent word to all of us. He asked me to join him and sent Ishii and Agendra to Minsawa and South Point, respectively."
Ishii and Agendra—Muirashi and Terishal's Paragons.
"The attack came sooner than he expected," I guessed.
"I think he didn't know what to expect. None of us did. Killian acted with what time he had." Paragon Tiernan toyed with the end of his hair. "We have no idea if a second attack will come. But this time, the men will be ready, at least."
"So we'll be meeting up with Ishii?" I asked. "He's been a Paragon for decades, right? Won't he be mad about . . . "
"You? No." He shook his head. "Ishii is smart. Maybe once everything is calm, he'll make a fuss. Right now, you're another soldier with a blade. He won't turn you away."
"That's a relief." I leaned back in my creaky chair. "Why not help Agendra?"
"He's a wall in himself. I'm not worried about him." The Paragon smiled faintly, betraying his lie.
He was worried about the other Paragons.
A middle-aged woman hurried to our table, long robes trailing behind her. She averted her eyes as she set down warm bowls of stew and two copper goblets of wine.
Mulled Muirashi wine. One of the few things I liked about this frigid hellscape.
Their food, I liked less. They made everything with iceberries, the bland crop that weathered the cold. I could see chunks of its pink flesh floating in my stew.
It tasted like snow to me.
"So . . . " I took the mug and sipped it. "I don't know much about you, Lord Tiernan."
He sat opposite me. "Just Reese will do."
"But you call me Lady Rohan."
"That's different." He leaned back and folded his arms. "Don't Aenir ladies gossip like it's their duty? Surely you've heard something about me."
The lords and ladies of Aenir did love their gossip. Most Paragons throughout history came from the military or bore noble names, well-known and documented.
Paragon Tiernan, though, might as well not have existed before Cleiv Solais claimed him. His past was a mystery. The fog of his life positively delighted the gossip-mongers. I'd heard dozens of outrageous tales, all certainly untrue.
"I hear you lost your arm in a fight with a dragon," I said, tilting my head. "But it appears to still be attached."
"Ah . . . " Reese glanced away. "That it is."
"What a suspicious answer." Leaning forward, I tried to get a better look at him.
He displayed both arms, covered in elegant black gloves and silver armor. "That rumor circles Forlaith often. What else?"
"This isn't telling me about yourself, you know. This is hoping to hear they've been singing your praises."
"How many lovers have I had? At least tell me that."
"Hm." I swirled my cup, staring up at the dim ceiling. "The widowed Solheart empress. The Queen of Aenir and the Sultana of Terishal."
"I get around." He grinned. "What about the Queen of Lavaire?"
"Oh, that one's so common it's gotten boring." I swirled my spoon in the stew. "At least now I know what's not true."
"Heh." He averted his eyes. "There's really nothing to know. I'm more boring than they make it sound."
Liam lied a lot. Not to me—mostly to Father. I'd learn to pick up the cues: averted eyes, twitching lips, fidgeting hands.
This Paragon lied a lot, too.
Reese sat forward. "Killian was from Tirnanog."
"You're deflecting," I pointed out. "But I'm interested, so I'll allow it."
"His father was stationed in Bunderry when Killian was still young. He doesn't remember it much more than you do, I imagine."
"What did he think? About what happened?"
"Same as everyone else. Horror." Reese sat back. "Regret, at not having returned."
"Why didn't he ever try?" I pressed. "To go back?"
"There are laws forbidding it. From what I hear, the few who broke those laws ended up dead or missing." Reese's golden eyes landed on mine. "This isn't a very cheerful topic. Why don't you tell me about yourself?"
I had a rehearsed script for when this question came up at balls. It spoke of a determined and well-educated noblewoman, tailored to impress people.
The molten gaze of his eyes turned my bones into soup, but I employed my well-trained act. Smiling, I batted my eyelashes. "From the sounds of it, mystery is an alluring trait on a Paragon. If there's nothing to know about you, there's nothing to know about me."
"Oh, you're going to drive Ishii mad." Reese smiled.
"Why? Perhaps I'll be perfectly straightforward with him, if only to irritate you."
The Paragon responded to my tease with an honest sigh. "I'm sorry. Had things been different, I would have given you a proper welcome. Maybe nothing more will happen at the border, and we can start over." He paused, staring into the fire. "Once we've sent Killian off."
In the face of his earnestness, I found only silence. The king would have dispatched scouts to Galasvar by now. I wondered what they would find.
Killian deserved a proper burial. That of a hero. He didn't deserve to lie there with the rest of the dead.
I flinched. No one deserved it.
The stew bubbling before me didn't seem appetizing anymore.
"Were you two friends?" I asked quietly.
"Yes. I consider all of them good friends." He chuckled. "Well, maybe not Ishii. He’s old and icy." He studied my face. "Why don't you go draw a bath? I'll keep guard."
"Over my washroom?" I raised an eyebrow.
"You never know." He gestured toward the back door. "There's one in our room. First on your left."
Our room? Nodding, I rose, grabbed my bag, and followed his directions. A soak sounded nice.
Maybe it could wash away the invisible blood that had clung to me since Galasvar.
I'd never been an oversleeper. Rigorous sword training for two hours apparently drained all the energy I had for one day.
After spending the day dozing on my elk, I nodded off in the bath and woke up god-knows-how-long later.
Shooting out of the cool water, I yanked my tunic and trousers on and stepped back into the room.