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Vaelira woke before first light. Someone had washed and dried her travelling clothes, folding them neatly over her pack by the door.
The thought of someone coming into the room while she slept should have disturbed her, but after the images that had haunted her sleep, the violation felt like a small thing.
She dressed quickly and strapped on her weapons before slipping out of the room.
Downstairs, her boots waited in the dimly lit hall. She sat on the edge of the lower step and pulled them on. Her breath felt too loud in the silence. With a sigh, she pulled on her cloak and stepped into the cold morning.
She reached the courtyard at the main gates as the sky began to soften into the first colours of dawn. A few guards moved about, and three horses stood off to the side. Eli and Jurah were already securing their packs to the saddles. Vaelira took a fortifying breath and walked towards them.
“Nice of you to join us,” Eli muttered.
“Nice of you to wake me,” she said, unstrapping her sword and quiver.
“That’s enough,” Jurah said sharply. “You have both said your piece. Vaelira has apologised. Let us move on.”
Eli’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing before swinging up and onto his white steed with practised ease.
Vaelira offered Jurah a grateful smile.
He didn’t return it. When he spoke, his voice was hard. “You will follow orders without question. Is that understood?”
Vaelira’s smile faded but she nodded. She would do better this time.
They left Allen as the sun began to rise, casting its rays over the wide hills and plains.
The river wound north, carving a gorge through a tree topped plateau ahead.
The current moved faster here, and the air grew colder as they rode along the thin path between the river and the steep face of the plateau.
The rock rose on both sides, the trees looming above like great ominous idols watching their progress.
A faint clatter reached them over the sound of the current, and a man on the opposite side of the river waved to them from his seat on a cart, his horse walking a steady pace south. They hadn’t seen anyone on the road after that.
No one had offered much in the way of conversation, so Vaelira was startled when Eli spoke.
“In the warmer months, this gorge is impassable,” he said, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “The river swells with the thawing mountains. The entire path becomes submerged. Then all trade south is by boat.”
“What about trade coming north?” she said. Her mouth was dry, her voice cracking.
“There is none, but stocks are always full before then. The city hasn’t gone without in over a century,” he said proudly, as if it were entirely his doing.
Vaelira didn’t respond. She kept her gaze fixed ahead, trying not to sway in the saddle. Her limbs ached and her thoughts dulled, a faint pounding settling behind her eyes.
The horses continued in single file, their hooves clacking along the narrow track, as the river roared like a starved beast, white churning against the stone.
She hadn’t eaten since the bite of potato the night before, and before that, she couldn’t remember.
Perhaps it had been the other evening at the Drowned Oar.
She’d told herself she wasn’t hungry, that it was nerves that ate at her as they drew closer to the capital, but now she felt the lie deep in her gut.
Her vision blurred and she tried to blink it clear, but the pounding in her head was relentless.
The world tilted.
She didn’t remember falling. Hard stone slapped against her side, the thunder of water growing muffled as her vision grew hazy once more. Someone called her name. She wasn’t sure who the voice belonged to.
Strong arms lifted her and she tried to help, but her body wasn’t responding, her limbs heavy and useless. Steady hands placed her upright beneath the shadow of the gorge wall. She shook her head slightly. Pain throbbed at her temples and she winced.
A hand found her shoulder again.
“I’m fine,” she rasped.
“You’re not,” Eli said. “You haven’t eaten. You should have said something.”
She tried to pull away, but her hands were still shaking. “I didn’t want to slow us down again.”
“Too late for that,” he murmured.
She glanced up, finding him glaring at her.
Jurah stood nearby, his eyes scanning the ridge above them. “We can stop for a moment. But only a moment.”
Eli helped her lean back against a patch of moss-covered rock. The cold seeped into her spine, but she didn’t move. The sensation helped clear her head.
Eli left her side, then returned quickly.
“Here,” he said, holding out some bread. She took a small bite. It was soft, and the buttery flavour brought warmth to her chest. Her stomach clenched, pain twisting for a moment before it eased.
“Can you ride?” Eli asked, his eyes darting upwards.
She nodded, letting him pull her up. “A pretty good spot for an ambush,” she said, walking slowly to where Millie waited.
“It is,” he said without looking at her. “But raiders rarely come this far north. Either the cold doesn’t agree with them or something about the capital scares them.”
“Probably all the big swords.”
Vaelira put her foot in the stirrup and pushed herself up and into her seat. She swayed once. Eli held out his hands as if he might catch her, his mouth dropping open. Vaelira slammed her hand over her mouth, attempting to stop a laugh from slipping free, but it was too late. Eli glared at her.
“Nothing about this situation is funny,” he gritted out, hands still held aloft. “What if we truly were ambushed right now? You are in no fit state to fight. You would merely be a hinderance.”
Vaelira closed her eyes, drawing in a slow breath. “I just need a minute.”
“You are not allowed to act a fool when it puts others in danger. Is that understood?”
Vaelira kept her eyes shut and swallowed hard. “Understood.”
The gorge began to rise steadily, the path curving upward and the river rising with it. Water rushed past them in the opposite direction, hurling itself down the slope in gushes of white froth. Snow tipped peaks glinted over the top of the rise, stark against the ever-deepening sky.
They rounded the crest and Vaelira brought Millie to a stop. Her jaw went slack as she took in the view before her.
A winding road unfurled like a ribbon through a vast field of swaying tall grass and tiny purple flowers.
At its end, enormous iron gates stood within a wall that rested like a scar upon the earth, impossibly high even from this distance.
The pale, ancient stone shone in the light, and rising above it, towers reached skyward with spires like frost.
The palace was far larger than she had imagined, its rooftops dusted in snow that shone gold in the late afternoon sun. Behind it all, a great mountain stood, dark and still, its peak lost in cloud. A silent sentinel.
She couldn’t breathe. The sensation grew more painful with each thrum in her chest. It wasn’t the lancing panic she had become familiar with these past days, but something more cutting.
Her eyes burned and she wiped at them roughly.
She had never put her faith in the gods, but the sight of this city awoke a sense of reverence in her. Guilt slithered beside it.
Jon should have been with her. Freya too.
How many times had they talked about this exact moment while eating in the barracks or lying under the trees in the orchard?
There was no one beside her now, just wind tugging at her braid, and Eli, silent in the saddle a few paces ahead as he continued down the road, his cloak billowing in the breeze.
Jurah rode up beside her, watching her from beneath his fur lined hood. She swallowed hard and straightened herself in the saddle.
It was more than she could have ever hoped, and lonelier than she’d feared.
The great iron gates groaned open, and then, Vaelira was in Caerthalyn.
The noise hit her first. A cacophony of shouting vendors, barking dogs, and the constant thrum of foot traffic.
The wall rose at their backs, casting a deep, oppressive shadow ahead.
The road was barely visible beneath the crush of bodies.
The scent of sweat and smoke tangled thick in her throat.
She shifted in the saddle, one hand tightening on the reins as a boy darted past, nearly brushing her leg.
To her side, Eli had drawn his cloak over the lower half of his face. She caught his eye briefly, and he gave a small nod, as if to say yes, it’s always like this.
Ahead, Jurah pushed forward with steady determination, forcing his white stallion through. More than once hooves clipped too close to heels, drawing angry mutters that died the moment they caught sight of the Royal Crest.
She glanced at the crowd. Some people slowed to stare at the horses, at the men, but their gazes dropped fast. Heads turned, feet quickened, and no one met their gaze. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been fear.
“New Town,” Eli muttered behind the fabric. “The barracks are further in.”
He tipped his chin towards the next wall rising in the distance. It wasn’t as tall as the first, but it was just as impressive. The moment Jurah pulled back his hood, the guards flanking the entrance stiffened and swung the gates open, bowing low to their Commander.
As they passed through, the din faded. The gate closed with a solid thud, and the air changed.
It was calmer here, the torches lining the street throwing gold across the cobblestones.
There were fewer people, but Vaelira’s pulse hadn’t slowed, the roar of New Town still echoing in her ears.
Another wall stood to the north, the palace towers striking the sky at its back like giant spears.
They dismounted, and three guards stepped forward. Millie shifted, and Vaelira kept hold of the mare. “Where are you taking her?”
“The barracks stables, Miss,” he said, glancing at Jurah.
Jurah gave a single nod before turning to Vaelira. “She’ll be well cared for. You can visit her before breakfast if you wish.”