38
I wanted to hate my father.
But after leaving the countryside for the smoothed soil of Peace Road, the days slowly morphed my anger into sorrow and regret.
Before we’d departed the castle, I’d declined his request to see me. Each night, while staring at the carriage ceiling, I thought about what he might have said if I hadn’t. If he would have apologized, and if he had, if he would have meant it.
Yesterday, I’d reached the age of twenty-five.
I was now old enough to sit in on council meetings. Old enough to marry. That I was doing the latter rather than joining my father in governing our realm…
Tears filled my eyes.
I refused to let them fall. Refused to cry because of my father and his treachery masked as honorable intent.
A relief, really—to soon be rejoining friends. Even if I wasn’t so sure I still considered Meront a friend. His actions at the archives, while understandable to a certain degree, were the best and worst things he’d ever done to me.
And he would never know why.
Since discovering that I would wed Meront, I’d wondered often about his feelings toward me. There was a good chance they’d changed after what had happened at the archives, and that he no longer considered me a friend. For after Voran’s departure, he hadn’t said a single word to me.
Not even goodbye.
I supposed it didn’t matter how either of us felt. We would be married as soon as I arrived at Moongold Palace, and when war returned, there would be no archives to protect us now that we’d reached twenty-five years.
We would need to figure out our grievances.
In the distance, knoll-homes speckled the town of Autumn Valley. Younglings who’d spied the carriage waited at the wooden fence lining the road, where they plucked flower petals from pails and tossed them into the air.
A blessing for safe travels.
But it was called Peace Road for good reason. The road wended through all four realms, mainly along the cliff and seaside outskirts, granting all who traveled it a journey free from thievery, murder, and capture.
Breaking Peace Road’s sacred law was punishable by royal execution.
As afternoon came, Cloverleaf’s spring weather crispened, warning that we were approaching Valadorn territory. I lifted the blanket I’d brought for Dusk and found her tucked beneath her wing for extra warmth.
I curled beneath my own blanket and reclined my head against the window.
Sharp swaying woke us.
Peering through the velvet drapes, I quickly closed them upon spying the cliffside we ambled past and shivered. Not merely from the sight of a steep drop, but from the bitter cold creeping into the carriage.
During our stop this morning, Gorgen had said it would be three days until we neared Moongold territory and the worst of the cold was behind us.
Dusk fluttered her wings, stretched them wide across the velvet seat. Fading sunlight doused the membrane, a lighter pink than her forming scales and the leathery hide shielding her bones. Her near-black tongue flicked out as she released a screech and wobbled over the seat to me.
I smoothed my thumb over the small scales between her eyes. Her favorite place to be petted.
Given the journey home from the archives—where she’d fussed for two days before settling—and exploring the war wounds at the heart of Cloverleaf, the hatchling was adjusting to travel.
Even so, carriage confinement was far different from living below deck, in guest wings, and being held during long walks.
Petting would only soothe her for so long.
“We’ll be stopping again soon.” I attempted to wrap the blanket around her.
She snatched it and threw her head side to side, growling and tearing the velvet.
I bit my lips, waiting, then smiled when she glowered at me. “Are you done being dramatic?”
She huffed, fluff flying from her maw.
As soon as Gorgen slowed the horses, Dusk leapt onto my lap. She hopped from one foot to the other, her claws threatening to tear my lovely lavender gown.
I plucked some velvet from her teeth, and she hissed.
“Don’t be rude,” I admonished. “I’m helping you.”
Uncaring, she jumped to the floor and nearly tumbled into the opposite seat as the carriage trundled to a stop. She screeched, then waddled to the door, waiting with impatient flicks of her tail.
Shaking my head, I tossed the blanket around my shoulders.
I let Gorgen open the door. He’d scolded me twice for opening it myself. When I’d said it was just a door, he’d said I was just a princess with a roll of his eyes that had made me smile. Really, I suspected he liked watching Dusk flutter from the carriage and waddle toward fleeting freedom.
He did so again now, chuckling as he took my hand to help me down onto the frosted grass. It crunched beneath my slippers.
Noticing, Gorgen tore his eyes off the wyvern babe. “We may need to unpack those boots now, Princess.”
While he fetched them, I snatched the pee pot from beneath the carriage.
Then I followed Dusk into the snow-dusted clearing.
Dense woodland stretched farther than I could see from the road. While watching Dusk kick at the snow, I headed to the tree line. There, I hid behind a thick trunk as I struggled to get my skirts high enough to sit on the pot.
Afterward, I emptied it and walked the tree line in search of Dusk.
Only to find nothing but her prints.
Tracking them into the trees, I clutched the blanket around my shoulders and called for her. “Time to go, Dusk.”
She was still learning, but she never roamed too far from me. I called for her again. And again. My heart sank as I began to fear something had taken her. A larger beast.
Rustling sounded ahead.
Looking back through the trees, I hesitated. I’d already gone too far. The carriage was barely distinguishable. All I could see were glimpses of olive green as the last hues of sunset bled into night.
A distant howl echoed.
Trepidation nipped at my nape. Gorgen should have called for me by now. He would have long found some appropriate boots in my luggage.
A rustle in the brush came again. Followed by a faint yet familiar screech.
“Dusk,” I gasped—and dropped the pot as I ran into the growing dark.
I ran until the snow became so deep, I couldn’t. I could hardly feel my feet, and tripped into a log hidden beneath the sea of white. Stumbling over it, I caught myself on a trunk. My ragged breath plumed before me as I searched the snow for prints.
Another screech from Dusk sent me hurrying toward it—farther into the vast woods.
Unable to run due to the snow, I walked as fast as I could through thickly clustered trees. The snow soon reached my shins. To avoid tripping or worse, I kept my eyes fixed on the terrain in front of me.
What sounded like someone tutting stopped my feet and my thundering heart. My eyes roamed the dark ahead until it moved.
Until someone moved.
“A shame,” they drawled. “To have such a pretty dress spoiled by careless actions.”
That voice. Abrasive and accented.
He stepped closer to stand between two gnarled trees—with my wyvern in his arms.
“Voran,” I breathed.
“Seems your driver is not very good at following directions, Princess.” He pushed the hood of his black cloak from his steel hair. “Fear not.” Stroking my wyvern’s head, he cocked his own. “We anticipated as much.”
He then said something in the old language, and Dusk grumbled as figures cloaked in fur and black uniforms emerged from the trees behind him. Gold eyes.
Wolves.
My blood iced. I didn’t need to ask. I knew.
I’d crossed the boundary of Peace Road. I was now unprotected by its laws.
And at the mercy of Valadorn.
Voran turned, an order given as he strode into the dark. “Escort our future queen to her awaiting sleigh.”