Chapter Eight #2
Neville has a quick word with the guards at the city gate, who evidently didn’t even know about the attack at the palace.
They follow chain of command despite any questions they might have about our gore-spattered appearance and pull open the huge wooden doors to allow us to leave.
On the other side, we see the golden-red shimmer of dawn outlining the horizon as the sun readies herself to rise and rule the day.
I pull the cloak more tightly around me; the brisk chill of the autumn night settled in my bones on the half-hour journey from the palace.
When my teeth begin to chatter, Kaelen takes one hand from the reins and wraps that arm around me, settling us closer together.
I didn’t realize I’d hunched farther and farther from him as we rode.
As we pass through the gate, I look around at a landscape I’ve never seen before. Despite everything that’s happened, I can’t help but be fascinated at my first glimpse of freedom.
“This is the first time I’ve been outside the city,” I whisper.
Kaelen bends his head to mine to hear. “In how long?”
“In my entire life.”
“Really?” He says nothing for a moment. “That’s not entirely surprising. I guess I was too young before we left Valourian to think much about how narrow the scope of a servant’s life must be. If … if I ever have a chance to change that, I will.”
“Not just a servant,” I say quietly, surprised at the amount of bitterness in my voice. Surprised, too, that I’m willing to confide in someone whose life has been so vastly different from mine—so vastly above mine. But it will be an endless trip if we make it in silence.
“An indentured servant. The Sisters only allowed me off the library grounds four times a year, on festival days. That’s when I met Trick.” I smile briefly at the memory. “But I could lose the privilege for the least infraction.”
Kaelen’s arm tightens around me, and his voice is rough when he replies. “They starved you, kept you prisoner, and treated you cruelly. All that, plus the scars on your back—no, I didn’t forget about those. When we get back, the Sisters will have much to answer for.”
When we get back.
I can hear the king Kaelen would have been in his conviction. “Valourian was lucky in her prince.”
“That’s kind of you to say, but I was lucky in my family.
My parents were kind and strong and worked hard to protect their people.
I learned at their sides from the time I was a small child.
Not just swordplay. Governing and strategy and law.
And more, how to treat people—all people, not just the rich—with respect and fairness. ”
“Respect and fairness. Doesn’t seem to be a lot of that in King Pallan’s court,” I say after a few minutes.
“No. There isn’t.”
We ride along in silence for a while, the dust from the horses’ hooves spinning around us like tumbleweeds on the banks of the Burning River, until we reach a spot where a stream runs parallel to the path.
Sergeant Neville calls a halt, and we dismount to wash off the blood and change into more respectable clothing, so as not to draw undue attention to ourselves.
After I duck behind the wagon to change my shirt—my leather pants miraculously wiped clean—I walk back around to join the group, just in time to see Kaelen pull his bloody shirt over his head.
And I stop breathing.
The man’s back is sculpted in lines and curves of pure muscle.
A thin strip of light-amber skin hovers just above the waist of his pants, a contrast to the golden-brown expanse that must see the sun regularly—probably from those training sessions in the sun he and the guards mentioned.
When he glances over his shoulder and notices me looking, my skin catches fire with the heat of my blush.
I whirl around to face the other way before I have to see what is undoubtedly Altarra’s most enticing male chest and embarrass myself even more by drooling.
Or jumping on him.
I swallow a groan and drink some water, glad to feel my cheeks cool as my blush fades. The redhead’s curse—my emotions paint themselves across my skin with a palette anyone can read.
Elianna climbs down from the wagon slowly, a certain tenderness in her gait. I’m about to ask her how she’s feeling, but one glance between me and Kaelen has her rolling her eyes. Thankfully, she doesn’t comment. “Here.”
She hands me the bandolier full of poisons and powders—the one I packed into the valise back in the palace. There’s also a sheath that must be designed to wrap around my thigh, from the size of it.
“I meant to give you the sheath before you left, back when I wasn’t going, and we had three days, and none of this was a mad rush to escape the Zhagarn,” she says with more than a little bitterness.
“It’s part of your … costume? To present yourself as a poisoner.
All the best poisoners carry these, I understand. ”
“I—thank you.” I awkwardly pull the bandolier over my head and one arm. Elianna steps closer to adjust the fit. Then I fasten the thigh sheath and put my knife in it, feeling like either a warrior or a complete imposter—it’s hard to tell which.
“You look dangerous,” Kaelen says approvingly, approaching us. I don’t know whether I’m relieved or disappointed that he’s wearing a shirt.
Not that it matters. Now that I know what his muscular body looks like beneath his clothes, I’ll have to fight to not think about it.
When we ride that horse together.
My hips tucked between his big, hard thighs …
I close my eyes and wish Captain Wavedancer had a favorite saying for banishing lustful thoughts. The books were a series originally meant for kids, though, so probably not.
“I feel dangerous,” I blurt when I open my eyes and realize they’re both staring at me.
“Okay, Lady Dangerous,” Kaelen says, holding out a hand. “Let’s ride.”
The land just outside the city is cultivated into fields of food crops, and small farmhouses dot the landscape. Harvest is in full swing, and we trot past half-cleared fields to see farmers swarming out to their work as soon as dawn gives enough light to see by.
I sigh. “I was looking forward to Harvest Fest.”
“To buy sweets and ribbons?”
I bristle, but there’s gentleness in his voice. He isn’t mocking me about purchases I could never make—he just doesn’t understand what true poverty looks like. My automatic defensiveness fades. I’ve lived a life surrounded by so much unkindness that the absence of it shocks me.
“You can’t buy treats or ribbons when you have no coin,” I say matter-of-factly.
“But jesters and jugglers walk the streets entertaining everyone, no payment required. And there are plays on public stages, free for all. Not the best pantomimes, I’m sure.
Those troupes play at the palace for the fancy folk.
Still magical to watch, though. And the music!
So many wonderful musicians strolling about, entertaining us all. ”
“Karrina loves the music best. She’s a fair hand with a lute and sings like a nightingale.” I can hear the wistfulness in his voice and know he worries about his sister. “I love to see her joy during Harvest Fest. When we return …”
I wait, but he doesn’t finish the sentence. I’m not the only one wondering if we’ll ever return to Pallanhold. But one thing’s for certain: if we survive, I’ll never, ever step foot in the library again.
Except, perhaps, as a patron.
As we pass yet another field, two small boys rush toward the road and climb up on the fence to watch us go by. Their eyes fasten on Kaelen and me. The prince’s fancy embroidered coat and my scarlet cloak must look quite dramatic on our obsidian-black horse.
“Spare us a copper, won’t you?” the older one shouts, looking quite thrilled at his own daring.
Kaelen digs in a pocket and tosses them a few coins. I smile at their boisterous shouts of excitement. At least the Zhagarn didn’t come in force and overrun these farms.
Yet.
I fight to push away the thought of these boys, broken and bleeding, lying dead amid burned fields and destruction. The pressure of this quest is already crushing me. I don’t need to add visions of dead children to the weight of it.
Neville wheels his horse around and trots back to us. “I think our best course of action is to ride through the day and stop just before we reach the Brazen River, Your Highness.”
“Just Kaelen, please, Neville. I’m a merchant, remember?”
The sergeant’s mouth quirks up on one side. “Merchant or prince, you and I are the only two on this journey who’ve ever traveled much in Pyrrh, not to mention beyond the borders.”
“Andras and Chitai,” Kaelen reminds him.
“We’re the only two I trust not to have secret agendas,” Neville amends. “Camp just at the edge of the woods by the river?”
“Yes. I’d like us shielded from the road in case more of the Zhagarn are on our trail.”
“Bern and the thief have been watching our backs.”
“Trick,” I snap. “His name is Trick Jovann, not ‘the thief.’ If he’s part of this company—”
“He fought hard not to be,” Neville says, matching my ire.
“I wasn’t exactly a volunteer,” I remind him through clenched teeth. “If he’s part of this company, willing or not, he deserves to be called by name, Sergeant Neville.”
“Fine,” he mutters.
“Wait. How did they get into the city?” I turn to look at Kaelen. “The Fell. The guards at the gate didn’t know what happened, so it’s clear they didn’t come that way.”
Neville’s face turns grim. “That’s a very good question, and you can be sure they’re investigating back at the palace.
For now, all we know is that the Zhagarn have wormed their way into Pyrrh, even if it’s only a small scouting party.
Where one of those ravens-begotten Fell is, more are sure to follow. ”
“They were even more terrifying than I imagined,” I admit. “And the Zhagarn—the hatred in their eyes …”
“They’re bottomless wells of rage and hate,” Kaelen says. “Our seers in Valourian told us the lack of balance in Altarra affected everyone, but most powerfully near Corvynne’s domain. Her people have become so twisted, they don’t remember a time when they were soldiers and not monsters.”
“Best not to mention such things out in the open,” Neville says, making a sign against evil with one hand before riding back to the front of our group.
Kaelen sets an easy pace, and I suspect it’s so he can check on our companions in the wagon without looking like a mother hen. Bern is driving, Trick beside him. Elianna must have returned to the back to rest.
“Soli. Are you okay?” Trick’s brown eyes are filled with concern.
“No,” I admit. “But I’ll get through this. You?”
His lips twist. “Sure. We’re on our way to confront the goddess of war and death in her own territory. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”
“But you are coming with us?” I sound small again—small like an indentured servant, not like a person who defended herself from a monster. I wonder if the terror of this day did this—caused me to shrink back into the cage everyone else’s demands have built for me.
“I’ll come.” And more quietly, “At least until I get us out of this disaster.”
Elianna suddenly appears, standing behind the wagon seat and raising her hands. “You won’t be taking Soli anywhere. Prepare to be bound, thief.”
The silver glow of her power shoots out from her hands so fast, Trick doesn’t have time to move or dodge or duck.
All he has time to do is scream.