Chapter 11 Aiden
Aiden
The steady drum of Wicked’s hoofbeats usually calmed me. But not this time.
This time, they echoed the fear and pain that bled from my heart with each beat.
From confronting Kiera to telling her a rushed goodbye and now riding into an unforeseen battle, I was rattled. At least she would be safe from this fight. But if she was headed to Aquinon . . .
I swore and squeezed Wicked’s sides. He snorted and galloped faster.
The path through the woods was well-worn and as yet unburdened with snow. But here in the mountains, that could change overnight.
It would take a day and a half of hard riding to reach Arduen’s Mountain if we slept little.
Eventually, the path grew too narrow and twisted to race along. Clouds of steam puffed from Wicked’s nostrils as he restrained himself to a fast trot.
Maz pulled up next to me on his golden horse, Valiant. He adjusted the axes strapped to his back, grimacing.
“Pain?” I asked.
He shot me a glare. “No. Just a bit too tight. It’s been a while.”
I patted the bag I’d secured to Wicked’s rump. “I brought what healing supplies I could for you and your sisters. And anyone else who might need it.”
Maz clenched his jaw. “Do you think the ship will beat us there?”
“We have the shorter route, but if the wind favors them, or we run into trouble . . .” The potential consequences played like a grisly memory in my mind.
“Who do you think’s on the ship?” Maz asked, glaring at the dense woods ahead. “Sailors? Soldiers? Wolves?”
I’d been trying to figure that out from the moment I heard the news. “We know that Dracles and some of his men were stationed at Calimber. Could be that Renwell ordered them to take one of the ships here.”
“Or your little jaunt to see the ships scared them, and they’re looking for us.”
My spine stiffened, even though I’d wondered the same. “They sailed right past Mynastra’s Wings and the river entrance. Perhaps they didn’t see Skelly’s ship hidden in the bay, but the route to the Yargoth camp isn’t exactly a secret.”
“I suppose,” Maz grunted, stroking his beard.
It’d grown long enough that he’d started braiding it again.
“I suppose there’s no way a ship that gods-damned big would make it up our river.
Perhaps they aim to send boats down the river from the north.
In which case, we could ambush them on their way down. ”
A rabbit ran across the path, causing Wicked to dance sideways. I stroked his mane to calm him. He wasn’t a war horse, but he’d been through a few skirmishes. Riding into battle would hopefully give us an advantage. And we’d need every one against that ship.
“The fireseed harvest is too close to be coincidental,” I said. “Renwell either wants to steal the fireseeds, or he wants many Dags gathered in one place where he can use catapults on them all.”
“Fucking Four, Aiden,” Maz grumbled. “You’re like a mirror in a sewer. All you see is shit.”
A weak chuckle rumbled in my chest. “Give me something else to look at, then.”
Maz pondered for a moment, then snuck a glance at me. “Did you say goodbye to her?”
My fingers tightened on the reins. “Who?”
Maz rolled his eyes. “We may be riding to our deaths. Spare me the idiotic denial.”
Kiera’s worried amber eyes filled my mind. A small, desperate piece of my crumbled heart hoped some of that worry had been for me. But she’d made her feelings clear.
Nothing we say can repair a trust so broken.
“I said what I could,” I replied.
“She ran away from me. You should’ve seen her lovely face.” Maz sighed. “I hope she’ll at least stay the winter with us. If we’re still alive.”
She won’t. She’s probably far beyond our reach by now.
Regret prickled in my chest, but I ignored it. There was nothing I could do about it now.
I twisted around to check on the rest of our party. Jek and a few other warriors rode ahead while Sigrid, Davka, and Yarina kept close behind us.
Farther back in the line, I spotted Nikella’s gray horse and her long-hooded cloak through the golden foliage. Good. I wasn’t sure why she was riding so far back. But she’d been a little skittish around Jek, so perhaps that was why.
Nikella had joined forces with the Yargoths much the same way I had with Maz in the sunstone mine. For almost two years, she’d worked with Jek to help us escape. I lived with the Yargoths for a while after that, but Nikella returned to her nomadic ways.
She and Jek had always seemed close, but perhaps something else had strained their friendship.
Maz and I talked little as we continued to ride for hours. Any time the path straightened out, Jek urged our party to ride faster. But soon, the sun had disappeared, and the sweat on Wicked’s coat grew cold.
Just as Maz started to grumble, Jek gave the order to make camp.
He’d chosen an area close to the river with some roughage for the horses. A few rocky outcroppings provided a buffer from the bitter wind that kicked up in the darkness.
Our thirty-seven warriors broke into groups. I helped manage the horses while others built fires and retrieved water. By the time I finished unsaddling and watering the horses, a few fires crackled near the river. Someone had set a pot of water to boiling on a few propped branches.
Most of us had brought nothing but weapons and what was already packed in our saddlebags. I’d had the forethought to toss my father’s ring to Frieda for safekeeping before galloping away.
Thankfully, Nikella had a pouch of dry meat and vegetables to add to the water, so no one had to hunt. The tantalizing scent of stew made my stomach growl, reminding me I hadn’t eaten all day. But first, I needed to ease my thirst.
I slipped down to the riverbank. A shadowy figure hunched over the rushing water. A woman, judging by her slight frame. But she wore a cloak instead of the usual Dag furs and capes.
She turned, brushing her cloak aside to scoop water from the river with her hands. A gold hilt glinted in the faint light.
My heart jerked in my chest. No. It couldn’t be. I was never meant to see her again. She would never . . .
“Kiera?” I rasped.
She spun around, water dripping from her lips and fingers. Was it only five nights ago I’d stolen a kiss from that mouth? In my drunken state, I’d thought to take something back from her, but she’d stolen my thoughts and dreams in the following days and nights, anyway.
And here she was, armed with only her mother’s gods-damned sunstone knife and staring at me with that defiant tilt of her chin.
“Don’t bother telling me to go back,” she said, her voice harsh. “I’m not doing this for you.”
My eyebrows tightened. “I didn’t think you were.”
Her gaze shifted, as if my agreement surprised her. Her fingers danced around her waist the way they used to when searching for her usual throwing knives. Instead, her hand settled on her mother’s knife hilt.
I remembered her expression when she’d threatened me with that knife in Renwell’s office. Her grip had held little conviction, but her words and her eyes had contained plenty.
“I will never forgive you.”
I’d told her to try and stab me then because I knew she wouldn’t. When really I wanted to say that her gods-damned knife had already harmed me more than it ever could in her hands.
“Nikella said she would teach me the sword,” Kiera blurted out, misreading my intense gaze on her knife.
I scowled. “And you think you can be proficient enough for battle tomorrow?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Perhaps. But I intend to do as Nikella advised and simply make sure any villagers, especially children, are out of harm’s way.”
I blew out a breath. That was something, at least. I didn’t doubt Kiera’s skills as a lone street fighter or a tavern hustler. But to fight as a unit with weapons she’d never used against a ship with catapults? I wanted her as far from that as possible.
And what was all this about Nikella? My mentor must have interfered for reasons known only to herself.
“What of Aquinon?” I asked.
Worry flickered in those soft amber eyes. She bit her lip as she seemed to decide what to tell me. “Aquinon can wait.” She gestured toward the makeshift camp and beyond. “They can’t.”
She moved to walk past me. My hand stretched out to grasp her arm before I yanked it back to my side. I didn’t even know why I wanted to stop her. To express my relief that I hadn’t seen her face for the last time? To assure her of my protection?
She had lied to me. Used me. Chosen her bastard father and her manipulative mentor over me.
I couldn’t fathom why I struggled to harden my heart this time. It’d been easy after the horrors of the Pravaran rebellion and in the dark hell that was the sunstone prison mine. And after losing Brielle.
But now? Perhaps I couldn’t harden my heart with pieces of it still missing.
Still clutched in a thief’s scarred fingers.
I kneeled at the river’s edge and splashed water on my face. The iciness of it set my teeth on edge and sliced through the haze in my mind.
I had a battle to fight that had nothing to do with Kiera. Just as her choices excluded me. As it should be.
When I returned to camp, the stew was ready. Nikella handed me a full bowl with a spoon. A silent argument passed within our gazes.
Why didn’t you tell me?
I didn’t need to.
I don’t like it.
You don’t have to.
My glare softened, and I gestured with my bowl. Thank you for the soup.
She dipped her head, a small smile interrupting her scar. You’re welcome.
I sat with her while Maz happily took a spot next to Kiera, throwing an easy arm around her shoulders.
Even Yarina seemed pleased by her unexpected arrival. “You can’t win a battle with that piddly knife. I’ll teach you how to wield any weapon you wish.”
“Including a scythe?” Kiera asked lightly.
Yarina shoved her shoulder, nearly spilling Kiera’s soup into her lap. “Never, princess. Like I said, no one touches my scythes but me. Even if I only have one hand to wield them.”
Jek sat next to Nikella with a sly grin. “I hear Vorkahn is an expert at one-handing his weapon. Perhaps you should ask him for advice.”
Chuckles rumbled around the fire, the loudest from Vorkahn—a Dag as tall as a tree with skin like bark and a laugh like thunder.
A corner of Kiera’s mouth lifted. Distracted, I tilted my bowl, and hot soup dripped onto my hand. I subtly licked it off.
I looked up to see Maz watching me with a knowing grin. I scowled at him and took my soup elsewhere while the Dags continued to rib each other.
I ate quietly in the dark next to Wicked, who kept nipping at my pockets for carrots. Jek wandered past on his way to take a piss and asked me to stand first watch. I agreed.
The night turned even chillier. I’d forgotten what it was like in the mountains. Especially as winter neared. I’d actually grown somewhat fond of Aquinon’s storms and heat.
After an hour of shivering under my cloak, I unsheathed my sword and ran through several mock fights. I’d had little opportunity to practice my swordsmanship the last few years, despite the training room beneath the Temple.
I needed to be ready for whatever awaited us.
I wondered what Kiera would have said if I’d offered to train with her.
My body felt loose and warm by the time Maz stumbled away from camp to relieve me.
The fires had burned low, their embers rippling with heat. I quietly picked my way around the sleeping bodies to where I’d left my sleeping roll propped against a rocky ledge.
I froze when I saw Kiera curled into a ball next to my roll. Even though her blanket was tightly tucked around her body, she was shivering in her sleep.
I stepped closer. Not just shivering. Her face contorted as if in pain, and little whimpers escaped her lips.
Gods damn it. I rubbed my hands over my face. I sincerely doubted she realized she’d curled up next to my bedroll, but I couldn’t just leave her like this.
However, my face might be the last thing she’d want to see if I woke her up.
What did she dream of? Was it moments she regretted or moments she feared would happen?
My mind liked to frequent both in my sleep. The last time it hadn’t was in that tent in The Hollow. With her.
I glanced around the camp, but no one stirred.
Resolute, I unrolled my thick blanket. My fingers worked swiftly and quietly, unbuckling my sword and knives. I laid them in a heap at my back. I balled up my cloak for a pillow, then carefully stretched out behind Kiera, dragging my blanket over both of us.
She continued to fret and tremble, so I slid closer until her back nestled into my chest. She seemed to sense my body heat and pressed herself more firmly against me.
Warmth flickered in my chest. I slowly draped an arm over her side. She released a soft sigh, and I relaxed.
“Aiden,” she murmured.
I tensed again, waiting for her to shove me off. Instead, her breathing deepened.
My body hummed with contentment. Perhaps even hope. If I could vanquish her nightmares, perhaps I could defeat whatever awaited us at the mountain.
But when I awoke a few hours later, Kiera was gone.