Chapter 32 Ahnna
Ahnna
They rode through the night, the path a steep decline from the lofty elevations of the Blackreaches, and as dawn lit the mountains behind them, Ahnna got her first view of Amarid.
Gone was the snow and endless forest of conifers, and before her stretched rolling hills covered with dry grass and rocky outcroppings.
Streams fed by the mountains ran narrow and fast, converging into rivers that cut across the landscape.
While Harendell was always foggy and damp, Ahnna knew that some trick of the winds made Amarid a much more arid place, and that they relied heavily upon clever systems of irrigation to feed their croplands, including the coastal vineyards that were famous the world over.
The air had grown warmer with every passing hour they’d traversed the steep descent, and she’d already removed her greatcoat and tied the arms around her waist, the sun’s warmth familiar and welcome.
“Finally some grass for you to graze on,” she murmured to Dippy, but as he and Maven finished drinking from the stream, she was quick to urge both horses on.
Because every instinct in her body told her that the Beast hunted at their heels.
James shifted and grumbled something in his sleep, and Ahnna cast a sideways glance to him.
Hours ago, she’d insisted that he get rest while she led his horse, and he’d obeyed without protest. She’d thought that it was to make a point on the heels of their argument, but in the dawn light, she was rapidly revising that belief.
While she had her share of injuries, Ahnna had been on horseback the entire journey with the Amaridians, stuffing her face with their food, and getting as much rest as she could in preparation for her escape plans.
All while James had been dragged on foot through the snow, picking fights at every chance, and using every bit of his strength to try to escape their predicament with force.
There was no mistaking the toll it had taken on him.
Both his eyes were blackened, the bruises stark against skin that was paler than she’d ever seen it.
His knuckles were torn to shreds, and beneath the cuffs of his ruined coat, his wrists were even worse.
His beard had grown thick after so many days without a razor, but it did nothing to hide the hollows in his cheeks, the strain of what he’d endured having stripped away spare flesh and left behind only lean muscle.
For all her bluster and harsh words, it had taken all her will to do nothing as Carlo had pushed James to his limit, and she’d marveled at James’s capacity to endure.
Her people were as hardy as they came, used to being pushed to the limits, but Ahnna had never met anyone who could have gone through that ordeal and still been standing.
Not just standing, but burning with almost feral virility as he’d stared up at her, ready and willing to claim every part of her.
Ahnna’s jaw tightened, but so did parts low in her core, for though James’s hold over her was stupid, foolish, and irrational, it was also undeniable. He was every bit the man she’d always known him to be, good and bad, and God help her, she wanted him.
Except even if they managed to evade Carlo and escape Amarid, there was no future between her and James. How could there be with all that they’d said and done to each other? How could there be when they stood on opposite sides of the coming war?
Maybe he’ll choose to fight for Ithicana, her heart whispered. He wants to bring Alexandra down, too.
“When has he ever fought for Ithicana?” she growled at herself.
There was no doubt in her mind that James would do everything in his power to bring Alexandra down, but even if he succeeded, it wouldn’t change that his loyalty was to Cardiff.
Which meant Ahnna would be in Ithicana doing what she’d spent her life doing: fighting so her people could survive.
The divide between her and James was not one that could be bridged.
James stirred, then groaned as he shifted upright. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep that long.”
“You needed it.”
James cast a backward glance over his shoulder as he pulled off his coat, his hair damp with sweat from the growing heat of the sun.
“I’d love to say that there is a chance Carlo ripped out his own heart in the throes of his delusions, but he’s not that easy to defeat.
The Beast is alive, and he’ll drive his men hard.
Unlike us, Carlo won’t care if he runs his horses to death.
He has the means to switch out mounts once he reaches the farms in the foothills.
Villages will have boats and he’ll send men ahead to secure the coast, so not only do we need to be swift, we must be cunning. ”
“What do you suggest?”
“False trail.” James shifted, wincing, and Ahnna couldn’t help but wonder what injuries lurked beneath his clothes.
“We move at speed to one of the villages and trade the horses for a small boat. But rather than heading downstream directly, we hide in deep cover until they pass us by. Then we head to the coast on foot until we can secure new mounts. Carlo and his men will be looking ahead on the rivers, not behind on the roads, which means we can make strategic choices rather than desperate ones.”
Ahnna ground her teeth, grief gathering in her stomach as she stroked her horse’s neck. Dippy’s fur had grown thicker, and she liked how fuzzy he looked.
“I know you don’t want to give Dippy up,” James said softly.
“I don’t want to give Maven up either. But I also don’t want to run them to death to escape, and going any slower will see us caught.
They’re valuable mounts—whoever we trade with will likely sell them to some Amaridian lord and they’ll grow fat as saddle horses in some coastal vineyard. A good life.”
It was a smart plan, Ahnna knew that. Yet her heart didn’t care much for smart plans, and agreeing to this hurt. “I know. He’s probably better off away from me, anyway.”
Not waiting for James’s response, Ahnna nudged her horse into a canter, Maven following at his heels.
There was peace in having her focus be on staying astride.
With a broken arm, she couldn’t hold on to Dippy’s mane for balance, and each jarring impact on the rough terrain sent stabs of pain through the break.
The Amaridians had put care into setting the bone, but the ferocity of the pain caused her to suspect that she’d done more damage in the fight to flee the camp.
She could fight left-handed, but Carlo’s soldiers were angry and experienced, and they’d want revenge for what she’d done to them. Speed was of the essence.
The trail widened into a proper road as they moved through the foothills, and the river running alongside it grew as well, fed by dozens of tributaries filled with melted snow.
“I see chimney smoke ahead!” James called, the first thing he’d said to her in hours. “You do the talking. They’ll be put off by my accent.”
“You could fake being something you’re not. Since you’re so good at that.”
He cast his eyes skyward. “Keep this up, Princess, and you’ll make Carlo’s job easier.”
“Kiss my ass.”
“Bend over.”
Ahnna’s face burned hot, but she bit down on her retort. “Give me your reins and pretend to be hurt.”
“Not hard. I had my ass kicked for days because you couldn’t be bothered to share your plan.”
“If you are looking for sympathy, you’ll be waiting a long time.”
James only smiled and handed over Maven’s reins, then dutifully slumped over the mare’s neck.
Ahnna headed toward the grouping of perhaps ten structures.
Children paused in their playing to watch them pass, and Ahnna smiled to ease their fears as she headed to the small wharf alongside the river.
Two older men sat on rough benches sewing fishing lures, neither pausing in their task as she slid off Dippy’s side and approached.
“Good afternoon.” She leaned into her Ithicanian accent, which most would mistake for Maridrinian.
“I’m hoping you might be able to aid us.
We were accosted by bandits in the mountains.
Our companions were killed, our supplies stolen, and my”—she looked at James—“servant was badly injured. We need to make it back to the coast for aid, but he will not make it on horseback. Do you have a boat and supplies we can trade our—” Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard, her anger at James having caused her to briefly forget what she’d be giving up in this moment. “—our horses for?”
One of the men set aside a finished lure, and then picked up another set of threads and feathers, starting a new one. All while slowly looking Ahnna up and down. “What’s a Maridrinian and a”—he squinted at James—“godless Cardiffian doing in the Blackreaches?”
“We heard that the Harendellians had formed an alliance with Cardiff,” Ahnna answered. “We hoped to find opportunities to trade north.”
The old man pursed his lips, fingers moving rapidly as he made the lure entirely by feel. “That don’t sound right, girl. The Harendellians like those amber-eyed witches even less than they like us. Sounds like false news. It’s no wonder they beat you bloody and sent you back. You a witch too?”
Of course they wouldn’t know. Not up here in the middle of nowhere. “I’m not a witch. Are you able to trade?” James groaned from where he was slumped over Maven’s neck. “I need to get him to a physician.”
Part of her, a big part of her, hoped that the man would say no.
That he wouldn’t want to give up a vessel because his business was fish, not horses.
If he refused to trade, she could tell James to piss off to the Lowlands while she made her own way.
But the old man looked Dippy up and down, then Maven, and turned to his silent companion. “You ever fix that old rowboat?”
“Which one?”
“The one with the leak.”
This didn’t sound promising.
“Ain’t got a boat with a leak.”