Chapter 19
THE SKY WAS DARKENING BY the time we’d fetched Bluebell, eaten the provisions I had in my saddlebag, drunk my canteen nearly dry, and, after a small argument about wasting time, washed up in a nearby stream.
In hindsight, it wasn’t time wasted, as we were pressed very close to each other riding double, and now I smelled of soap instead of dank cave.
“They’re still heading straight south. Following the coast,” Aven said, leaning toward the ground from their position behind me in the saddle.
Any other time I would not have been able to focus beyond the feeling of Aven’s hands around my waist, but my brother was in trouble, as were our two other companions, and that put a damper on any sense of romance or attraction I harbored. “They haven’t changed direction.”
“There’s a port town at the mouth of the next river,” I said, absolutely not thinking about Aven’s body behind me, “but I doubt they would want to be seen. Especially with three unwilling members of their group.” What else could be in that direction?
A hideout? A lair? Had they had time to read the map?
“They’ll have to camp at some point. Maybe soon.”
“That will give us time to catch up.”
“Ellinore…” Aven sighed. “We need to rest as well to keep our strength. And we don’t want to lose their trail in the dark.”
They were right. “A while longer. We spent all day in a cave. We’re fairly rested.”
“Fine.”
So we rode. I urged Bluebell faster than was probably wise. But when the stars emerged as pinpricks in the night sky, I reluctantly agreed to stop.
We set up camp under the next tree we found a few steps off the path.
I tied Bluebell off, leaving her to snack on the grass around the base of a spreading oak.
Even in the night the leaves were vibrant green, a sign of the coming summer.
Luckily, the trunk had a spot between two roots that created a natural cradle large enough to fit us both.
Aven and I tucked in side by side, shoulders pressed together, weapons within reach.
No blanket, as the night was much warmer than the cave.
I tipped my head onto Aven’s shoulder and fell asleep to the sound of the breeze rustling the leaves overhead.
I woke earlier than Aven the next morning. It was barely dawn, just the faintest tendrils of light starting to break over the horizon. But as I blinked awake, shaking off the blanket of sleep, I caught sight of smoke curling against the backdrop of a dahlia-colored sky.
I sat up instantly.
A fire!
That had to be the thieves’ camp.
I shot to my feet, waking Aven with my movement.
“What’s happening?”
“Smoke,” I said as the only explanation. I untied Bluebell’s reins from the tree and grabbed my sword.
Aven ran a hand down their face, still half asleep, and used the trunk to leverage themself to standing. They rubbed their eyes and yawned. “Smoke?”
“Yes! Smoke. Remember? Thieves? Our friends? The map?”
That broke through Aven’s drowsiness immediately. “Smoke!” They grabbed their bow and quiver.
I swung up into Bluebell’s saddle and reached down for Aven.
They climbed up behind me, and we took off.
Every possible scenario ran through my brain.
Had the questers had time to read the map?
Had they released our friends, but we hadn’t seen them?
Worse—had they killed them? This whole quest was to keep Zig safe, but what if I had failed at the hands of some thieving adventurers?
I didn’t even want to consider it. And I didn’t have time to because I pushed Bluebell hard, her hooves kicking up dirt and grass as we covered the distance to the smoke in record time.
The trail of gray was originating from a thick copse of trees that created a barrier between the shore of the Eastern Sea and the main road, then jutted inland.
It was composed of spindly pines that managed to thrive in the sandy soil, dense enough to hide a band of thieves.
The sea at high tide had encroached far enough inland that the sound of the waves slapping against the pebbled sand covered the noise of our approach.
Fortuitous for us. Bad planning by the people who had taken our friends and our map.
Aven patted my leg, and I slowed, not wanting to risk riding too close.
We broke off toward the end of the woods nearest the rolling waves.
It would take us farther from the smoke, but we’d be able to approach from the ocean side, which they would not expect.
Skirting the long way around the trees would be our best shot, though it was going to take precious time.
With the rapidly rising sun, we knew we didn’t have long until the bandits readied for departure.
We left Bluebell by a grassy dune and crept toward their encampment.
The layer of pine needles over soft sand muffled our footsteps, and the clustered trees provided cover as we approached.
Stealth was important, but so was speed, and I didn’t want to lose what might be our only chance.
Moving quickly, we made it to a patch of tall spring-green grass on the outskirts of the woods and hid among the stalks.
Crawling on our bellies, Aven and I approached the outer edge of the camp.
I peered through the trees, and my heart leaped when I spied Zig, Rylan, and Farrah tied to a tall stump, ropes crossing their chests, pinning them.
They were off on their own, away from the small clearing of the main campsite, where the firepit was spitting as one of the thieves stoked the flames.
Aven poked my shoulder and jerked their chin toward the inland border of the woods.
Our mounts.
“We need a plan,” Aven said, right into my ear, voice pitched low.
I nodded. We had to hurry. The rest of the camp was waking up, and our window of opportunity was closing.
“I counted fifteen bedrolls,” Aven said, which was impressive, as they were scattered among the roots of the trees. I had no idea how the poor saps who had camped there last night had even found enough ground to stretch out. “And two are awake. That means seventeen.”
Pretty and smart. Be still my beating heart.
Okay, being aware of my crush made it way more difficult to focus. How inconvenient.
“Ellinore?” Aven whispered, knocking their shoulder into mine.
A plan. Right.
“We’ll make for the port village once we have the map and our friends. I have a feeling the bandits won’t want to follow us there.”
“I agree,” Aven said, propped on their elbows. “But how do we actually accomplish that?”
My first thought was to pull the thieves away from their camp somehow—maybe frighten them with a fake monster?
Or what if I lured them away? That would allow the others to get free and give Aven plenty of time to look for the map.
That was the smartest course of action, but…
was that what Ellinore the Brave would do?
Well, no. Based on the tales, she would confront all the combatants and vanquish them with her sword while one hand was tied behind her back. But that wouldn’t work.
Yet a more-realistic variation might.
“I’ll distract the bad guys. You get the map.”
“What about the others?”
I huffed quietly. “Are you kidding me? There’s not a knot or lock invented that can hold Zig. He’s just been waiting for us. He only needs a signal.”
Aven patted around on the ground and pulled a smooth ocean shell from the tangle of grass, about the size and weight of a skipping stone.
With a grin, they hopped up on their knees and threw it as hard as they could, before dropping back down onto their stomach.
The shell sailed through the air and smacked the tree bark right next to Zig’s ear.
Good shot. How attractive. Yay for us.
Zig startled awake, wide eyed, and immediately spotted the shell where it had landed next to him.
He wiggled, peering around the area, looking for us.
I cast a quick glance to the camp; the two thieves who had roused were now moving about, but they weren’t paying attention to anything beyond eating breakfast.
I raised my hand above the grass and pointed toward the mounts, hoping my meaning was clear.
Zig’s smile was a sight to behold.
Okay. This was going to work. The trio of captives would free our mounts. Aven would grab the map and the saddlebags. And I would be the distraction.
This would work. I could do this. We could do this.
A third member of the camp roused, throwing back the cover of his bedroll.
I tensed. We were running out of time. The thief stood, yawned, and stretched his hands above his head, his back to us.
His clothes were… much finer than what a bandit would wear, on par with Aven’s and Farrah’s attire.
He sat on a fallen log and rummaged through what I recognized as Aven’s pack, his long blond hair falling into his face.
He removed a strip of salted meat and chewed loudly, then reached in again.
Aven stiffened beside me as the man pulled out a leather-bound journal and flipped through the pages. They frowned, fingers tightening on their bow.
Huh. I wondered what was in that journal. Furthermore, I wondered why the thief was interested in reading it and—
The man lifted his head, shook his hair from his face.
I sucked in a harsh breath.
Son of a bitch.
I’d recognize that ostentatious mustache anywhere.
Aven was right. These weren’t common thieves. They were questers. Noble questers.
I should have known. The poor choice of campsite was a dead giveaway, as that fool was terrible at adventuring.
And he had our map. Oh. I was beyond mad now.
Righteously so. Anger boiled right beneath my breastbone, burned in my core like dragon fire.
My hand twitched on the hilt of my sword.
Because not only had this pompous jerk risked my brother’s life and taken our hard-won map, but this was a direct challenge to me. To Ellinore the Brave.
It took every ounce of self-control to hold on to my composure lest I stab that man. Maybe I would fight them all with my sword.
It was time for my dramatic entrance.
And it was going to be a magnificent one.
“Map. Friends. Flee,” I whispered.
Aven nodded sharply, jaw clenched.
I rolled away from them, putting space between us so the questing group wouldn’t clock them right away. And then I ran in a crouch, darting from tree to tree, until I was just a few feet from their campsite.
Okay. Here went nothing.
I unsheathed my sword, the blade gleaming in the morning light.
And I stepped out from behind twin pines into the campsite.
“Lord Ethan,” I called. “What a coincidence!”