Chapter 13
Blaze
As I watch the Earth Cleaver pack away his various tinctures and vials of medicine – meticulously, for there seems to be some kind of order – I find myself thinking that he looks far more content out here in the forest than he ever did at the Golden Palace, with all its gilded pomp and ceremony.
I think of his private chambers – that unruly jungle, the carpet of wildflowers, a bed nestled among the entwined branches of a towering tree.
He hands me a bowl of oats, which I reluctantly accept, keenly aware of the hollow ache in my stomach.
‘How long was I out?’ I ask between mouthfuls.
‘A day or so,’ Fox tells me.
I make an impatient sound, letting my head tip back against the trunk of the willow.
Fox smiles a little at my petulance. He pulls off his left glove, severs its fingertips with his knife, then tosses it to me. ‘Here.’
I catch it warily and hold it at arm’s length, as if he’d thrown the knife rather than the glove. ‘What’s this for?’
‘To conceal your brandmark. It somewhat ruins your cover.’
‘I must’ve left mine in the Ridge,’ I mutter, sliding it on and fastening it at the wrist, concealing the soft glow. As expected, it’s too big for me, but it’ll have to suffice.
‘Are you feeling well enough to travel?’ Fox asks.
I nod. ‘Yes.’
‘And you’re sure about that?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you promise to do everything I tell you?’
‘Yes – Hold on.’ I narrow my eyes. ‘I’m not promising that.’
‘Too late,’ he points out.
‘In case you’d forgotten, I’m going to be queen,’ I snap. ‘Doesn’t that mean you have to promise to do everything I tell you?’
A smirk tugs at the corners of Fox’s mouth. ‘Pulling rank already, I see. Forgive me, Your Majesty, but given that your safety is now my responsibility, I’m going to need you to let me take the reins on this one. And speaking of, I’d better start tacking up.’
I glower into my bowl before following Fox between the branches into a small clearing. Cedar is there, snuffling through the undergrowth, his dark mane shining in the dappled light.
Fox clicks his tongue in greeting. ‘Storm Weaver, you remember my horse?’
I reach out a tentative hand to stroke Cedar’s muzzle, thinking back to when I first met him that night in the stables, when Fox gave me the kittens.
‘What news of my younger brother?’ I ask, experiencing a fresh wave of relief that Renly was not permitted to attend Aunt Yvainne’s funeral.
‘Your grandmother sent for him before she left Fire Mountain,’ says Fox. ‘He was taken to the safe house along with the decoys. Genius plan, by the way. Let’s hope it works long enough for us to reach the Lagoon, or else we’ll have half of Ostacre – and my uncle – on our tails.’
I frown, because he’s right. I have to find the Eye before anybody realizes I’m missing, which can only be a matter of time.
What would the people make of it, I wonder? The Storm Weaver, a runaway queen. A fugitive. Many already question my account of the Binding Ceremony. They would never believe my intentions to be noble. And if I were discovered with the Earth Cleaver …
‘Do you know what they’re saying? About you and me?’ I grimace, recalling the conversation Flint and I overheard in Isolla.
A muscle twitches in Fox’s jaw. ‘More or less. Neither one of us has an excess of admirers, as I understand it.’ He chuckles humourlessly. ‘My uncle is taking advantage of the people’s doubt. He’s using their uncertainty to win their support.’
‘How?’
‘By giving them a villain,’ says Fox. ‘Or in this case – two.’
Despite the sunlight glinting through the branches, I feel suddenly cold.
Fox sets to work packing the rest of his belongings, sliding his gold dagger into the sheath at his hip, strapping his satchel securely to Cedar’s flank.
It’s only when he offers me a leg-up into the saddle that the reality of our situation dawns on me. There is only one horse. I roll my shoulders uncomfortably in my soiled shirt, painfully conscious of the layer of grime coating my skin.
‘What’s the matter?’ Fox asks.
‘I’m filthy,’ I mutter.
‘You’ve certainly looked better,’ he concedes mildly. ‘But we should make a start. You’ll have a chance to clean up later.’
Ignoring his proffered hand, I heave myself reluctantly into the saddle, inhaling sharply through my nose as my injured arm takes most of my weight.
Fox hesitates, looking up at me. Maybe he’s having second thoughts too.
‘Well, aren’t you coming?’ I ask impatiently.
He clears his throat and bows his head in mock deference. ‘Right away, Your Majesty.’
I tense as Fox swings himself up behind me, looping his feet into the stirrups. The hard planes of his chest press against my back as he leans forward to grab the reins, the corded muscles of his legs digging into mine as he nudges Cedar forward.
Fox glances upward occasionally, checking the position of the sun as a means of navigation, since the towering outline of the Ridge has long been swallowed by the trees.
Neither of us speaks for a while. I concentrate instead on trying to ignore the continual graze of our arms.
It makes me nervous – being this close to him.
In fact, everything about this situation makes me nervous.
The forest is wild and overgrown, a tangle of roots and vines, filled with all manner of woodland creatures that crawl and croak and leap from branch to branch. I sit poker-straight, flinching at every creak and snap, in a constant state of high alert.
I can sense Fox biting his tongue, but when a butterfly flutters past and I lurch so violently I nearly topple to the ground, he can’t seem to take it any longer.
‘Relax, would you? You’ll give yourself a heart attack.’
‘I am relaxed,’ I protest, righting myself.
‘How foolish of me. You positively ooze serenity.’
The way ahead gradually grows denser, then denser still. Fox flicks his wrist carelessly, and a path begins to form, thickets parting down the middle, trees bending gracefully as we pass. Shoulders rigid, I focus on a fixed point ahead.
At a sudden rustle in the canopy above, I jerk my head up so fast that the back of my skull collides with Fox’s face. ‘What’s that?!’
‘That,’ he says thickly, pinching the bridge of his nose, ‘is a very rare, very dangerous creature known as a squirrel.’
Cedar huffs amusedly. I scowl, embarrassed.
‘Look, I understand your trepidation,’ says Fox. ‘This is all new for you. It’s only natural for you to be on your guard. But you’re forgetting you’re with me.’
His arms encircle my waist as he gathers the reins into one hand.
‘Not likely,’ I mutter.