Chapter Nine
It was a week later that we left for the Gorian Kingdom.
Fionn couldn’t manage to get away before then.
It was gloriously sunny and warm—a perfect day.
It was odd to think that at home, in the mortal realm, it was probably snowing and the lakes and streams would still be full of ice.
I wondered if the men sent to find my uncle Leofric had any luck, and if he was safe at home with his family.
I hoped so, but I felt guilty and feared for him, and every day that passed when Fionn’s men didn’t return with news of him, I feared more and more for his fate.
The servants woke me up early on the morning we left for Gorias. Fionn had left my bed much earlier, but I’d turned back over and had gone back to sleep, forgetting that this was the morning we left for Gorias, the kingdom of my birth.
Fionn had told me we wouldn’t arrive in time for the elaborate funeral, anyway, which had been held days ago, out of necessity in the warm weather, but we would be there in plenty of time for the ceremony accompanying the erection of King Callum’s burial stone.
The stone masons had begun carving it as soon as the physicians said there was little hope for his recovery, so they were able to finish it only a few days after his death.
The ceremony was set for three days from now, so we could attend, and that would also give us plenty of time to reach Gorias.
After I ate, I dressed in my riding clothes, which consisted of black trousers, a tunic and coat to cover it that were both a lovely shade of aqua blue, trimmed in silver.
It was warm outside, so the coat was made of linen, as was the tunic underneath.
My boots were black and made of soft leather.
And on my head, I wore a silver circlet.
Fionn had insisted on giving me a new wardrobe designed for me, saying that I should be at my best when I met “our” new subjects.
I felt like a fraud and an imposter, but I was almost getting used to that feeling by now, and I was getting used to the image I saw in the mirror each day.
I wondered if there would ever come a time when I simply accepted it.
Fionn was already in the courtyard adjusting his saddle as I came out of the castle and began walking down the steps to greet him.
He was wearing all black with a small, silver crown, studded with emeralds.
His long black hair came down to his shoulders, and I thought he was devastatingly handsome.
He turned and saw me coming, motioning to one of his captains and calling out for him to bring my horse around.
We’d had a big argument the night before about Crow.
I had been riding him every day that I could since we’d arrived and going down to the stables to give him an apple or talk to him every day.
But he was undoubtedly shorter and smaller than the other horses in Fionn’s stable and noticeably different from the big Fresians the others rode.
It didn’t matter to me one bit, but Fionn said the Gorian people might think that he had deliberately given me an inferior horse.
I bristled at the word “inferior,” but I conceded that the size difference was substantial, and I agreed that I’d ride a different horse on this trip. One of the men led out my horse, a Fresian mare, and I took one look at her and fell instantly in love.
She didn’t feel the same about me at first, but it was the same way as Crow had treated me at first. She was suspicious and shied away from my hand when I first touched her, but after a couple of the delicious apples I gave her, she realized I was safe.
“Oh, she’s so beautiful,” I gasped, and I meant it. She had a Faery-tale appearance, with her solid black coat and feathered legs—and a mane that was long and straight and flowed down her neck. She looked regal and like she knew how beautiful she was. How could she not?
“What’s her name?” I asked, walking up slowly.
“Bramble,” Fionn replied, and I thought it was perfect that she was named after the delicious blackberries that grew wild in the tangled, thorny thickets along the sides of the roads and deep in the woods.
I used to help my grandmother pick berries in the forest and the blackberries and red berries that grew in those thickets were usually sweet and made the best pies.
I approached my new mare slowly, giving her plenty of time to get used to me. Mares could be temperamental and “prickly,” unless you knew how to handle them. If you were patient with them and asked, rather than told them what to do, they could be lovely to ride.
“She’s a moody girl,” Fionn said, “but she’s intelligent and sensitive too, and she can be a good partner to you if you treat her well and she learns to trust you.”
“Of course, I’ll treat her well,” I said, a little insulted that he thought I wouldn’t.
I drew closer to her to gently stroke her nose and told her how pretty she was.
She tossed her head at me to let me know that she already knew she was beautiful.
I looked back and smiled at my lord. “Thank you for letting me ride her.”
“Not only ride her. She belongs to you now, so get to know her.”
“I’ll try. And thank you, Your Grace.” He smiled at me then and leaned in as if to kiss me. But Bramble had other ideas and snorted as he came closer, nudging into my side to knock me off balance. Fionn murmured something under his breath but then laughed and shook his head.
“Someone’s jealous. I guess it’s time we got started. Come and I’ll give you a leg up.”
We rode the whole of three long days, stopping only to rest the horses and let them feed at midday.
We stopped to water the horses, too, and to eat quick meals.
I thought not for the first time that if I lived here with these people for a long time, which I supposed I would, I’d grow much too fat and lazy, because even the camp food was delicious.
When we finally stopped at evening of the third day, it was almost dark, and the woods were pressing in all around us.
It looked like more of the endless forest, only with even more shadows.
It was cool, but not cold, thank goodness, and the dark trees now stretched endlessly in every direction.
The sky held a bright gleam of stars overhead, and the river—the one we’d been riding beside most of that day—was fast running and as black and shiny as glass in the dusk.
The soldiers set up camp quickly, and before long, there were warm, bright fires built to help keep the shadows at bay.
We had been staying in simple wedge tents which were triangular-shaped and made of waxed linen or animal hides draped over the center ridge pole, supported by upright poles at each end Waxed linen or animal hides, depending on the weather, were then draped over that and pegged to the ground.
It would usually hold two people or more comfortably, depending on the length of the ridge pole.
All of the poles were precut and brought along with us on the pack animals, as were the coverings, so erecting the tents didn’t take much time.
Fionn and I had the largest of the tents, and it was located in the middle of all of the others.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been amazed at how quickly they were all put up, considering the Faeries’ almost casual use of magic, but I still was.
Before long, the soldiers were all sitting by their individual fires, casting dice or eating and drinking.
They drank heavily and Fionn was drinking too, though none of them ever seemed to get drunk, no matter how much wine they consumed.
After a while, Fionn said he was hungry and I helped unpack the food and wine we’d brought along with us.
We still had plenty of the dark, nutty-tasting bread, with delicious honey to spread over it if we liked, and various creamy cheeses and vegetables like carrots and fresh, whole tomatoes, so ripe and juicy you could bite into them like an apple and let the juice run down your chin.
There were cucumbers and celery and white asparagus, and all of it was good.
As always, there was the goblin fruit, along with many bottles of the sweet nectar wine the Sidhe seemed to favor.
And there was manna, a favorite dish of the king’s.
It was like coriander seed, but white, and the taste of it was like sweet wafers made with honey.
The cook had even packed some little cream cakes for me, and I made a sound of joy when I saw I had some of them and that made Fionn smile at me indulgently.
The men Fionn had brought with us consisted of strong young soldiers who were all excellent horsemen.
I was gratified to see that they took good care of their horses too, rubbing them down and using their curry combs in a circular motion after they took off their saddles and feeding and watering them before they fed themselves.
His army was exceedingly well-trained, and they should have been, since they spent all their time either training or hunting or fighting some incomprehensible battle or other with the other creatures who inhabited this world.
When I had once asked Fionn who they fought so often and why, he quirked up an eyebrow at me.