Chapter Fifteen
“Not true,” Andras snarls.
“Definitely not,” Kaelen growls, but he not-so-subtly moves to stand between Chitai and me.
Chitai smirks at them. “If I’d wanted you dead, you’d never have seen me coming.”
“How?” I stare at her, wondering how I didn’t recognize the armband before. True, I’ve had a lot on my mind, but the design is so distinctive. “How are you real?”
“The Dawn?” Neville backs away, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Begging your pardon, Lady Soli, but that’s not possible. The Zhagarn and Fell wiped out the tribes of the Dawn more than half a century ago.”
Trick suddenly starts laughing. “Oh, come on. The Dawn aren’t real. They’re just the bogeys people scare their children with. ‘Go to bed now, or the Dawn will get you.’”
“We never stole children,” Chitai says, her voice deadly. “Watch your words, thief. I’m no Sylvan, to get tangled up in slights to my personal honor, but I won’t stand for lies about my tribe.”
“Which tribe?” I try to remember reading any tribe names, but no. None were named in anything I read. “Gillam said—”
“Gillam was a fool. My mother’s mother allowed him to travel with our clan for a moon’s time and told him whatever nonsense she felt like making up. If he told stories about us, they’re filled with foolishness and lies.”
“But the armband is exactly like his drawing,” I point out, nudging Kaelen aside. “Maybe he picked up more than your grandmother realized, just from observation.”
She shrugs. “Perhaps. Does it matter?”
“But how—”
“Enough. I don’t feel like answering questions tonight, and we’ve heard enough from Andras Al’Sylvan.
I may tell you more on the journey. Leave it at this: I have cause to help rescue the goddess.
The Burning River grows fouler every year, and the Degradation is spreading into the Desert of Sharnon, our home.
Even the Oasis of Aurora will be threatened within the decade at this rate, and it’s the source of much of our healing plant life. ”
“Why were you in Pallanhold?” Kaelen demands.
She cuts her gaze to Elianna. “We, too, had heard of the sorcerer determined to rescue Artemisen. Your secrets are not kept well, riverlanders.”
“Well, yours certainly are,” Trick says, admiration clear in his voice. “You’d be a great thief.”
“In the Eagle Clan, we chop one hand off those caught thieving and force them to run behind the horses for seven hours,” Chitai says flatly. “If they survive, we consider letting them live.”
Trick’s face doesn’t change, but he puts his hands in his pockets.
“But—”
Chitai cuts me off. “No. Enough. I’ll think on how much to tell you. We have a long journey ahead of us. Not all truths need to be shared this soon.”
Kaelen stares her down, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Fine. But you’ll tell me this: Are you a danger to Soli? And none of your glib answers, warrior. If you threaten her, even in jest, you won’t live to tell your story.”
Quicker than thought, she flings a knife at him, but he’s faster still. His sword snaps up to block her blade, and the metallic clashing sound raises the tension in our camp by a thousand degrees.
Instead of escalating the violence, though, the Dawn warrior grins. “I like you, prince. So, I’ll tell you the truth instead of cutting you down where you stand: Soli is the only person in all of Altarra who is entirely safe from me.”
With that, she flashes a sardonic smile at Elianna and stalks away from the campfire, deliberately turning her back, as if we aren’t dangerous enough to trouble her.
Surprising me, Kaelen laughs. “I should have recognized the signals she was flashing at me in the throne room, but it’s been so damned long since I studied the Dawn in my history lessons.
A warrior of the Dawn. Eagle Clan, no less—the fiercest of all the fighters.
If they truly do still exist, we might just have a chance. ”
“We’ll see,” Andras says, his voice hard as he watches Chitai walk off into the night. “For now, everyone should get some rest. I’ll take the first watch with Neville. There are still the followers to beware of—could be that the Zhagarn stole palace horses.”
The sergeant, who’d been listening to the revelations with a stunned expression, nods. “Yeah. Uh, yes.” Then he whistles. “A Sylvan lord, a Valourian prince, and a warrior of the Dawn. It’s like I fell into a child’s storybook.”
“Yeah,” Trick mutters. “One of the horrible ones, where the children get eaten by monsters.”
The week following this night of revelations is almost …
ordinary. Ridiculous to even think I can consider days of learning to ride a horse, build a fire, poison people, and defend myself with a dagger ordinary, but familiarity dulls even the most heightened fears.
I know from painful experience I can only live in a state of perpetual anxiety for so long before I either relax or fall into the Gray.
I don’t have time to fall into the Gray.
Every day I wake up afraid that this is the day I’ll sink again, but so far, the fog has stayed clear of the conscious areas of my mind. So far, I’m maintaining a juggler’s balance: trying not to stumble while keeping several balls in the air.
Also, though, every day I experience something wondrous and new.
The prolonged feel of sunshine on my skin, without worry that I’ll be punished for dallying outdoors.
The sight of a cloud of honeybees on a mission for their queen.
The scent of wildflowers. The sound of birds calling out their happiness or their grievances—one never knows with birds.
The sight of Kaelen, chest bared, washing at a stream next to me.
A shiver races through me at the thought.
He subtly flexes when he catches me watching him, and I’m struck by the wild, fleeting idea to take off my own shirt and wash in only my underclothes next to him.
I don’t, of course.
But all of it comes together to form a tapestry of new adventures.
New sensations and revelations.
And all of it—all of it—experienced without the threat of punishment for stepping outside the lines I was never intended to cross.
This must be how ordinary people live their lives, I realize, but I can’t tell if the feeling that fills me at the epiphany is sadness or joy.
I decide to claim joy.
Today, I’m riding Cloud, the mare Kaelen chose for me. She’s gentle, as if she knows I’m only learning.
When Kaelen first proposed I learn to ride, I fell apart. Somewhere in the midst of shaking and sobbing, I blurted out the story of my mother’s death, then turned to run away from the almost certainly appalled prince.
But he didn’t let me run. He didn’t even seem horrified by my meltdown.
Instead, he caught my hand to stop me and pulled me into his arms. Then he held me against his warm chest and stroked my hair until I finally quit crying and stood gulping shuddery mouthfuls of air, just trying to breathe. Trying to calm down.
When I came back to myself enough to realize I’d gotten tears and snot all over the Valourian crown prince’s shirt, I wished fervently for Elianna’s magic, so I could cast a spell that would make me vanish.
I mumbled as much, and he started laughing.
“Soli, I have a little sister. Far worse has happened to my shirts.”
It made me smile, as he’d intended, and then I climbed onto the saddle almost before I realized I was doing it. It took me a few days to relax enough that every step didn’t jolt my spine, but now I’m at least comfortable enough to ride Cloud on my own without needing someone next to me.
This morning, just as I’m easing into Cloud’s plodding rhythm, Kaelen stabs me in the chest.
Not literally, but the blow he strikes with his words cuts right to the heart of me.
“We’re almost there. We’ll find the key in the Barrows, and—”
“The Barrows?” I realize I’m practically shouting and lower my voice to pretend to a calm I definitely don’t feel. “Did you say we’re going to find the key in the Barrows?”
When my hands tighten on the reins in reaction, Cloud shakes her head in displeasure. I force myself to relax and pat her neck in apology but then return to the point. “The Barrows? Are you out of your royal mind? The goddess said the Boundaries. I was there, remember?”
Kaelen, dressed today in a forest green shirt, black pants, boots, and a dark cloak, looks every inch the aristocratic lordling.
I was too busy staring at him and daydreaming about …
Well. Not important. But I was distracted by his unfair gorgeousness, and we’re riding well in front of the rest of our company, just the two of us, so I only half paid attention to his actual conversation until I heard two of the worst words ever: “The” and “Barrows.”
Funny how the word I twined in my braid this morning was Fortitude.
“‘The Boundaries’ is the old Altarran name for the Barrows.”
So much for fortitude. Also, how did I never read that?
I’m stunned literally speechless. It’s a good minute before I can form words. “Do you even know about the Barrows? Am I the only one who has ever read a book in this company?”
“Yes, I—”
“Draugrs, Kaelen. Draugrs. The spirits of the restless dead.”
“I know what a draugr is. They’re probably guarding the key.”
“Why is it always like that, anyway? Why does it have to be spirits of the restless dead? Why can’t it ever be spirits of the happy and peaceful dead? Or spirits of sweet little bunnies?”
His beautiful purple eyes widen.
“We’re all going to die.” I blow out a breath, fear leaking out of me and turning into dire resignation. “That’s it. We’re all going to die. Draugrs will never give up the key.”
Kaelen’s eyes flare hot. “We’re not going to die. If you only knew …” He presses his lips together, refusing to finish the sentence.
“If I only knew what? And how can it possibly matter?”