Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
ASHLYN
The road thickened just beyond the castle. Trees that had once formed bridges with horizontal limbs were no longer sturdy. They were etched with scorch marks.
For months the fae endured, slowly piecing back their world after my kingdom’s knights destroyed it. I had never ventured far from the castle grounds, but the further out our horses led us, the more I saw the destruction.
Abandoned homes on the outskirts.
Roads lined with blackened tree roots and limbs.
“How could my brother do this?” No one deserved to have their land destroyed.
When Fyn looked back at me, I realized I had said it and it wasn’t just a thought in my head.
“There’s nothing I could say that will help you make sense of it,” he said.
I was the reminder of it.
Every time someone looked at my humanity, they probably saw my brother’s hatred.
Towering trees swallowed my view of the castle when I finally looked back.
We rode for hours until the path became increasingly slender and he was forced to bring his horse next to mine.
Ache seized the muscles in my legs. We had already stopped twice. I couldn’t ask him to stop again.
I pulled the flask from my horse’s saddle and took a sip. “Is this horse yours too or just Merda?”
“Ivy is just one of the king’s many mares.” Fyn combed his fingers through his disheveled waves.
“Don’t mind him. He doesn’t know how to say anything nice.” My fingers trailed along her mane. “You can be mine, Ivy… at least for the journey.”
“You know I can hear you when you speak most of the time, right?”
“Completely aware,” I said. “So what kind of bet did you lose to be given such a large prize to trade?” Every time the horse pounded the uneven path too hard, I felt it.
“Are you referring to yourself?” He flexed his hand when I nodded. “I only trade things that don’t speak, Your Highness.”
“I’ve had to contend with the knowledge that this day was coming my entire life. Soren’s invitation didn’t startle me. I’m fully aware of my value, Fyn.”
“Please enlighten me. What is your value?” There was a different tone in his voice, one that I didn’t recognize.
“You know I’m my father’s only daughter. I overheard pieces of every failed marriage negotiation.”
“Maybe he would have benefited from trading goods instead of women,” he said. “You don’t truly believe that is your only worth, do you?”
I looked to the tree line when I couldn’t look at him. “No, it’s just the one I’ve heard named the most.”
“Good, because I was about to start listing reasons to challenge that belief.”
A part of me wanted to hear someone say something beyond the words I had always heard spoken—the ones that seemed to be chained to my name, but it wasn’t the way we existed around each other.
I didn’t know if I wanted it to be.
It seemed I had already said too much, so I simply laughed.
Magnificent pinks and blues streaked the horizon. I tugged at my cloak as the evening air nipped at me.
Slowly the thicket of the forest faded, giving way to a road thicker than any we had traveled.
Fyn slowed his mare until she fell in line with mine. “There’s a small town ahead of here. I know the innkeeper and there will be a place to rest for the night.”
I hadn’t thought about sleeping arrangements. There were few places I had stayed beyond castle walls. My fingers shook as I gripped the reins too hard.
He leaned toward me, bracing my back. “Are you going to faint?”
“No.” I pulled myself upright away from his touch. “Why would you ask me that?”
“You look unwell.” His brow arched as he looked me over. “Ashlyn, if something’s wrong, you can tell me.” He rarely used my name like that. The moment he did, it tugged at a feeling I couldn’t name.
“I’m just tired. I’ve never done this before.”
“Stayed at an inn?” He did a poor job of stifling his laughter. “Surely you jest.”
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I hadn’t stayed at an inn. “I’ve never ridden a horse for this long.”
That was probably just as dangerous to admit. The muscles in my hands clenched from holding the reins too tightly.
“And you just thought you’d go on a multi-day journey on horseback and not tell anyone that?”
“I don’t need you to judge me.” I was too tired—I was already saying things I shouldn’t have been.
“Okay… no more commentary. Let’s just get you to the inn so you can rest.” There may have been a flicker of concern in his eyes, but their faint glow made it impossible to know.
Arnlow shone with lamplight that lined the streets. We made our way to the first of several stone buildings that sat on the edge.
Moss overtook the side of the inn and the sign that hung outside it.
“Does this charming place have a name?” It was a kind way to describe stonework that crumbled.
“Stonewall.” He didn’t look back at me.
“I can see why,” I muttered.
“Do you want me to help you down?” Fyn asked after he dismounted his horse.
I nodded, too tired to even move.
My muscles clenched even further when Fyn gripped my waist. I stumbled as my boot slid on a rock, knocking into him.
The heat from my cheeks must have left them flushed.
“Let’s get you inside.” His voice lowered as he grabbed hold of Merda and Ivy’s reins. “You can get settled, and then we can grab a bite to eat. They make an excellent stew.”
“Lord Fyn, may I take your horses to the stables?” A slender young fae boy asked.
“Thank you, Soshin.” Fyn passed the reins to him. “Your mother truly is putting you to work now.”
“Yes, my lord. I am old enough.” The boy peered up at me. “Who’s this, my lord?”
“A friend. We’re traveling the trade route,” Fyn said.
I had never heard him call me that. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
Fyn released the packs on the backs of our mares and swung them both onto his back. I gripped the satchel even tighter as he unstrapped my sword and clipped it into his belt.
The boy didn’t look back as he led the mares into the stables.
I followed Fyn up the stone pathway, wondering what his travels were like. He spoke little about them each time he returned.
Fyn reached for the door. Flecks of red paint fell from it as he pressed it back.
Conversation from the tavern flooded my ears the moment we walked into the slender hall. Fyn led the way until he stopped at an old oak desk. A fae female sat behind it, tidying the messy brown strands of hair that hung over her face.
There was no way of knowing how old she was. If I had learned anything in Nythrel, it was that their years of life made it impossible for me to guess. Someone with silver strands could easily be fifty, and another with a youthful gleam could be upwards of one hundred.
“You didn’t tell me you were bringing company with you.” She tilted her head at Fyn. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen—”
“Vina.” He tapped his fingers in a steady rhythm on the oak table.
“My lord, I don’t have any luxurious accommodations available.” She straightened metal frames that slid down the bridge of her nose. “Just a single room.”
Single.
Room.
“Fyn.” There had to be somewhere else we could go. Somewhere with two rooms.
He held his hand out before me.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Vina asked me. “Her accent. It’s very thick.”
No one had told me I had an accent, but I guess I sounded different than them. I was grateful that my hair was covering my ears.
“That’s really none of your business, now is it?” Fyn snapped.
Vina’s smile twisted. “I haven’t seen you in months, my lord… and you show up here with a very beautiful lady—”
“Well, it’s been lovely to see you too.” He reached into his pocket and slammed coin on the desk. “A room, please. Whatever you have available that’s suitable enough for the lady.”
The metal key scraped against the wood as she slid it toward him. “Shall I have a meal sent up for you both?”
“That would be great. You remember what I like?” Fyn asked.
“You ask for the same thing every time you’re here,” Vina said.
When we walked away from her, I glared at him. “I’m not sharing a room with you. What other inns can we try?”
“This is it.” He leaned over me. “You are in an inn with a tavern attached to it. You are absolutely sharing a room with me.” He gestured for me to take the stairs.
My muscles screamed before I took a single step up them. At least he was standing behind me in case my legs gave out. I knew I’d never hear the end of it if I crashed into him.
He turned the key in the narrow lock and pushed open the burgundy door. A single bed lay in the middle with mismatched quilts strewn haphazardly on top. Each one decorated in a faded pattern.
“Your sister would have my head if I left you unchaperoned here.” He closed the door behind me.
“So they know?” I couldn’t believe she would condone this. “It is indecent. How could my sister think I would be okay with this? There is only one bed.”
“Indecent?” He dropped our bags in the corner. “They know,” he said. “I don’t know what you think I’m implying… but I don’t just fling myself at women when we share the same room.”
“Oh? So you do this often?” Somehow that made it even worse.
“That is absolutely not what I meant.” He raked his fingers through his wind-strewn locks and then slowly patted them back in place.
“I’m not sharing a bed with you.” It was out of the question.
“Of course you’re not. I’ll take the sofa.”
Calling the brown, patched fabric lump that sat along the wall a sofa was generous. “You’re too tall for that thing.”
“I sleep on the ground sometimes when I’m on the road. It’s called camping.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“I know what camping is.” I had heard of people doing it before.
“Oh, good. I was getting concerned there for a moment. How exactly have you traveled anywhere before?” He tugged at the belt he wore at his chest, loosening the leather strap that threaded through the brass buckle, pulling it free. Our swords clanked to the ground with it.
“In a carriage. And then I’m hosted by noble families.”
“Well, the ladies and lords of Lythira wouldn’t exactly be welcoming to a human princess… especially one—”
“From the kingdom that attacked yours,” I said. “They always know the moment I speak that I’m not one of you.”
He flung our packs down on the ground near the sofa. “I don’t know if it’s just that. It’s probably the way you walk.”
I scowled at him.
A knock rivaled the laugh that escaped him.
When he opened the door, a tray had been set on the floor. “Usually they wait until I open the door.”
“Guess they didn’t want to disturb whatever activity they think you’re partaking in.” I raised my brow.
“You said it, not me.” The wooden tray thudded on the table as he sat it down. “I know it is not grand, but it’s the way Lioran has allowed your travel to the divide.”
Allowed it. It had been allowed.
Voices rose through the floorboards when silence fell between us. Fyn uncovered our meals and then sat across from me at the table.
A thick stew lay inside our bowls, with heaping bits of what appeared to be brown meat. An oily dew that settled on top when I stirred it.
“What is this meat?” I asked, suddenly afraid it was a squirrel or a rabbit.
He slurped too loudly. “They’re mushrooms.”
I prodded the spoon in the liquid, desperate to find a lingering vegetable I recognized. The spongy dark bread that lay beside it excelled at sopping up the oil. Once a few traces of it remained, I slowly downed the salty liquid.
At least it was warm enough.