25. Dangerous Travels
Dangerous Travels
Aradia
“Of course it would storm tonight, of all nights.” Aradia clenched her jaw to keep from shivering.
Her horse slipped on the mud for the third time.
“Alright, I get it Steele,” she said, using the name she had placed upon the horse the minute Cahira had given him to her.
She slid off, relieving some weight off Steele’s back.
Her boots squelched in the mud and she moved unsteadily.
Her gaze roamed the forest around her. The path was small and she had to walk in front of Steele to keep from running into the thorn bushes.
It had been years since she roamed the forest at night.
Throughout the war, all sorts of creatures came out of hiding.
Either being forced or just out of hunger.
It was no longer safe to journey after sunset, but she had no choice.
The last village was miles behind her, safe behind the Vidrenian walls.
It had been four days since she escaped through the cracks of the city.
The battle had been terrifying. Cahira’s betrayal still burned, and leaving Quinn left a hole inside her.
Traveling alone created bone-shaking fear she hadn’t felt in many, many years.
She had no true destination and wandering about the forest only brought back the memories of when she was a child. The night that —
She skipped the haunting memory of her city’s massacre.
She had spent weeks trudging through forests and plains, wandering aimlessly in hopes of safety. She gulped down her terror. Not knowing what was worse, facing the journey by herself or that she had come to rely on the company of others.
Ha! Cahira Valencia.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid Aradia for trusting,” she muttered.
Steele neighed with unease, placing his nose against Aradia’s back, and urging her forward.
“I’m sorry, boy.” She rubbed a hand down his long nose and continued to walk forward. “Everything’s fine.”
There was no point pulling out her map to see how far the next village was.
It would dissolve in the torrential downpour and then she would really be in trouble.
Vidrena had always been a relatively safe kingdom.
Although Gail and Vidrena were forced allies, Aradia didn’t want to take any chances by walking on the main roads.
She stuck to the small paths, twisting and winding through the mountains and forests.
She pretended all the skaraks had been destroyed in battle.
At times it was better to think positively than realistically.
Rain drenched the ground. She didn’t bother avoiding the puddles and hastily splashed through them making her way deeper into the forest. There were no caves or places to rest out of the rain.
She had hoped, this close to Vidrena’s borders, there would be refugees camped somewhere nearby headed for the protection Gail offered.
To her dismay, there were none to be found.
For an entire day she had traveled on the same road.
There was no way she could have made a mistake, although the slight nudge of her conscience made her think otherwise.
She pushed the thought aside and thought back to the events of the past few days.
The Prince of Arkan was everything she assumed he would be.
Even from the distance she created during his speech, his strong form was still prominent. She sucked in a breath, remembering the effect he had on her. The magic in his potent ring called to hers. The strength of the gods and the pull of temptation. That had been unexpected.
There were no words to explain the Valencia inner circle. Well, perhaps a few came to mind. Formidable. Impressive. Powerful. Dangerous.
The mountain man, Rhydar, had stood proudly in the crowd by the dais.
The chancellor’s son. Her face flushed at the image of his hand possessively splayed across Cahira’s stomach.
If they were together, that alone said enough about his character.
She searched her memories on the Aariv family.
They had built a large empire for themselves.
No trade could pass through southern Peraynia without his family’s seal.
A man clad in black stood behind them all, like a phantom.
She had never heard of him before but was sure there was a good reason for it.
He guarded them all as if it was his sole purpose in life.
Power wrapped around him in dark tendrils, leaving a wide berth where no sunlight shone. Then, there was Cahira.
Rejoined with her comrades, Cahira stood taller, knowing her place.
Even as disgust curdled any remaining food Aradia had in her stomach, she marveled at how complete Cahira became.
Now that the veil of her secrets and lies were tossed to the blood-soaked ground, her royal, privileged, lying, manipulative persona shone bright.
The memory poured salt in Aradia’s already stabbed back.
She tsked in annoyance at her stupid ability to still trust others.
Her mind wandered to the prince. His speech spoke of unity and a better realm.
Coming from the man who single-handedly played a major role in conquering half the continent, she wondered what had changed.
She blew out a sigh mirroring the ones Steele made.
The mud squished under her steps, freezing and sticking to her boots.
The rain pelted her skin in angry drops as if demanding her to turn around to safety.
She didn’t listen. It wasn’t as if there was anywhere she could truly be safe. The leaves twisted in the wind, bending and grasping each other. The light sound of a twig snapped. Aradia froze. Steele bumped into her back with a snort.
“Hello,” she called into the darkness.
She was met with an eerie silence. The hair on her arms bristled.
The trees seemed to quiet their rustling and the rain lightened against her cloak as if holding itself back.
Fear made her pupils dilate, seeing as much as she could in the darkness.
The moon itself abandoned them, hiding behind a cloud and turning its face away.
Her heart thudded against her chest; taking this path was a mistake.
She turned Steele by the reins and let out a scream as lightning flashed and she came face-to-face with a cloaked witch.
The witch was blind, which meant she was even more dangerous.
Centuries ago there was a great split between the witches.
Many continued to follow their queen, Magnhild, but at least half had formed a new alliance with the King of Arkan.
Choosing against their queen and witch nature, Queen Magnhild cursed them.
If they were to use their power for the king they would have to give something in return.
The balance of magic must always be restored and the price of using magic was steep.
“Lost are you?” The witch crooned, licking her cracked lips.
Any witch who used magic had to give a part of themselves. Whether it be a finger, a memory, their youth, or in this case the witch’s sight.
Aradia backed away slowly, hardly allowing herself to breathe.
“Don’t bother. I could scent your blood anywhere, priestess.” The witch took a quiet step toward her.
Aradia’s throat went dry at the witch’s words. If she could smell her blood, she could certainly smell her fear. A demir witch. Aradia’s breath turned wheezy as fear made her stand deadly still. The creatures at Vidrena were a dream compared to the one standing in front of her.
She tried to muster her courage. “Don’t take another step toward me.” Aradia drew her dagger.
“You are right to fear me child,” the witch whispered darkly. She snatched the dagger from the hilt.
Aradia tried to grab it back but the blood witch laid an iron-clawed hand on her wrist, gripping with unnatural strength. Sharp pain shot up her arm as she felt the searing slice of the iron wrap around her wrist.
With a quick flick, the witch threw the dagger deep into the center of a tree next to them. She released Aradia’s wrist and shoved, sending her careening backward.
Aradia clutched her arm, tears blurring her vision. Her blood dripped down the witch’s iron claw. Lightning flashed in the sky, lighting the forest around them. In those split seconds, Aradia watched in horror at the witch licking the tips of her claws, and closing her white eyes in delight.
“Such power you have.” The witch smiled, showing a mouthful of filed teeth. “Delicious. Oh, the plans we have for you.”
Aradia didn’t know whether to breathe a sigh of relief that the witch wasn’t killing her on sight or try to outrun her. Anything was better than dying at the hands of a demir witch.
“We?” she voiced, breathlessly, regaining her footing.
The witch smiled.
It was only then Aradia realized she had yet to blink, and instead Aradia swore the witch looked right through her. Past the clothes, blood, and sinew down to her beating heart. She shuddered and it brought a wider smile to the witch’s face.
“You serve the King of Arkan?” Aradia asked.
“I serve myself!” She snapped, licking at her claws.
“I meant no disrespect.”
“You humans never do.” She spat on the ground.
“I’m just trying to reach the next village.”
“I know what your destination is,” she said against the harsh wind. Her words curled into mist against the cold air.
“My grandmother is sick and —” Aradia’s lie was cut short by a sinister laugh.
“Don't lie to me girl,” she snapped. “You're not very good at it.”
Aradia remained silent, having no clue what else to say.
“Give me something which belongs to you,” the witch demanded.
“What?”
The witch sighed with impatience. “Something which belongs to you,” she said slower. “A piece of cloth, slice of hair, anything will do really.”
“I-I-I don’t know, um.” Aradia stammered, looking down at herself and at her pack on Steele’s back. “I have food.”
The witch truly stared at Aradia. She either hadn’t heard what Aradia said, or she did but didn’t believe the idiotic words had been uttered.
She cursed darkly under her breath and flicked her left hand out.
There was no iron adorned on her tattooed skin.
Aradia didn’t miss the two stubbed fingers and wondered what dark magic she had used that cost her the loss of her eyesight and fingers.
With another flick of her wrist the dagger wedged into the tree slammed back into her waiting hands.
Aradia couldn’t help but marvel at such power but fear kept her mouth shut.
The witch blew on the dagger, whispering a quick spell.
“Will I get that back?” Aradia asked quietly.
“No.”
Aradia flinched at her harsh tone but dared not speak.
“Maybe,” she said. “First you have an audience with a prince.” She tossed the dagger slightly into the air. With a snap of her fingers it vanished before it could hit the ground.
Aradia’s jaw dropped, gaping at the display of magic. It was gone in seconds when she registered the words spoken. “The Prince of Arkan?”
The witch smiled knowingly.
Her heart plunged into her stomach, sending a fresh wave of shivers that had nothing to do with the temperature around her.
She knew it wouldn’t take long for Cahira to come searching for her again.
Flashes of Vidrena raced through her mind.
The celebratory cheers and scurry of people had concealed her presence, and had given her the perfect opportunity to watch Kaiden work the crowd.
Now, she was to come face-to-face with the same man who had slaughtered skaraks as if they were nothing.
“The Prince,” she whispered under her breath, “and his entire inner circle?”
The witch crackled at her anxious voice.
“The one and only,” she said, turning around, and walking deeper into the forest.
Her feet made no sound nor did any branches rustle at her touch.
Only wraiths were this quiet or a spell was used to silence her movements and surroundings.
The witch stopped but did not turn around, waiting for Aradia to follow her.
It seemed her every decision to stay clear of Arkan, and the family residing within, was a complete and utter failure.
Their fates were intertwined. The prince desired to meet her and it was of no surprise he was the first to make a move.
Thunder rumbled again and the skies opened back up.
Aradia’s footsteps sounded loud and clumsy compared to the witch’s silent ones as she followed her.
She prayed she would live to regret this decision.