Chapter 8
Hank's heavy hooves struck through wet gravel and shallow puddles left there from the night's rain.
The road wound through the countryside like a pale ribbon, weaving between rolling green hills and vast fields of wheat that rippled beneath the wind like waves upon a golden sea.
The air was filled with the smell of morning dew and fresh wildflowers.
Light filtered through grey clouds, leaving ribbons of gold over the earth.
Sleepy stone cottages fixed at the edges of everything dotted the land.
She had read about the countryside in books.
Drawn pictures of fishermen and shepherds, winding rivers and little villages.
Nothing could prepare her for the sheer openness of it.
There were no towering walls, crowded rooms or guards positioned at every corner.
Only green fields and open, brilliant sky, endless and wondrous, stretching as far as the eye could see.
Mirielle drank it up like a woman starved. She was determined to enjoy the good days and the freedoms of today felt like an escape.
"What about Rosie?" she asked. The horse walking in tandem with Hank snorted in disapproval.
"Buttercup?" That one earned her a scathing glare.
They had been at this game for a half hour. Reis watched in quiet fascination.
Mirielle thought for a long moment. "What about Maisey?" she said cautiously.
There was a pause. Then the horse threw her head in what was apparently agreement.
"You're a perfect Maisey!" Clearly elated with her victory, she flashed a smile that beamed like the sun breaking through clouds.
Reis shifted in the saddle. "You named her after the tavern keeper?"
"I liked Maisey. She was kind."
Reis realized those small kindnesses were something she treasured.
Content, she returned to taking in the scenery with rapt attention. Bubbling creeks were like precious treasures. Moss-laden bridges of coarse stone were like grand discoveries. Even the birds and the trees commanded her fervent awe.
Her silver eyes seemed brighter today as if a cold fire had been kindled within them. They danced and played with every new discovery. There was warmth emanating from her—the world seemed to light her up as if the wonder of it all had settled in her very skin.
Reis was utterly fixated on it. Everything seemed capable of brightening her. A flock of birds taking flight from a meadow. A family of hedgehogs sneaking through brush beside the trail. The scent of rain lingering on the wind.
It was joy. But to Reis, it somehow felt more precious on her.
Travelers and farmers carrying heavy rucksacks passed them. They stared with intense curiosity. At first, she tried smiling at them but when they met her smile with blank stares, she made herself smaller.
He hated that.
"Tell me about your home," she asked. Her tone was light.
Reis bit his tongue.
"My home?"
"Rosthein."
"Rosthein isn't my home. It's a seat."
"A seat?"
"It's where I rule from."
"Oh."
There was a pause.
"But it's not your home," she repeated.
"No."
Mirielle had never known kings could live away from their seat of power.
"What is Rosthein like?"
"It's cold."
Mirielle let out a small laugh.
"I guessed that."
He paused. "It's usually buried in snow." He looked down at her. "The keep is warm enough. You'll live there. It sits above a village."
Mirielle's gaze snapped up to him.
"A village?"
"You'll be able to visit it."
"Visit it?" Hope bloomed in the timbre of her voice.
Reis frowned slightly. "Yes."
For a moment she smiled, thinking of all the things she could do. She could finally go to festivals like the ones the kitchen maids used to talk about. Maybe the village in Rosthein had a ribbon shop or maybe another tavern.
Then Mirielle looked at the landscape before her and felt a pang in her chest. The light in her eyes dulled only slightly.
"What about outside of Rosthein?" she asked, her voice suddenly small.
Reis frowned. Of course. He had just shown her the world and now she was afraid he would take it away again, imprisoning her behind more walls.
After a long pause, he finally spoke. "Have you heard of the war in the North?" Reis asked carefully.
"War?" she asked incredulously. "You mean your kingdom's creation?"
"No, I mean the war." When she didn't answer, Reis sighed. Finally, he asked the important question. "What did they tell you about me?"
She shifted uncomfortably. There were plenty of rumors about the Blood King, each more gruesome than the last. "I've heard of Kaldyr's fast rise."
"...And?"
"I've heard..." She paused carefully. "...stories."
His eyes narrowed.
"What kind of stories?"
Mirielle looked down at Hank's black mane.
"The sort people tell about the Blood King."
Reis groaned. "That narrows it down." He tilted his head sideways as if it had suddenly gained weight.
"I've heard stories of villages...taken."
"Ah." The syllable dripped with disbelief.
Mirielle chose silence.
Reis scoffed. "There are kingdoms even farther north than Kaldyr and they have far worse things than me, princess."
Mirielle pinched her brows. She had been taught about the great snowy forest, long ago cursed by a witch.
Nobody could enter, or if they did, they would just find themselves back where they started.
Nothing was supposed to live there. Nobody had seen any life beyond the witch's veil.
But with every passing hour she doubted her education more.
"Like what?"
"Things I will make sure you will never see."
For a long while, the only sounds were those of heavy hooves on dirt and distant birdsong.
Finally Reis spoke. "The forests in Kaldyr aren't safe, princess," he said quietly, "but if you want to leave Rosthein's walls, and it's safe, you can go outside with me."
Mirielle turned toward him.
“Really?”
The question was so immediate and hopeful that it caught him off guard. A corner of his mouth twitched.
“Really.”
Some of the tension left her shoulders at once and hope lit sparks in her eyes. It was such a small thing, yet she looked as though he had offered her an entire kingdom.
“Hear that, Maisey?” she asked. “We're going to have lots of adventures together.” Maisey flicked an ear at her and tossed her head.
Her smile returned, bright and unguarded. Reis couldn't help but stare.
He made himself look away before she noticed the expression threatening to appear on his face.
*
They traveled until the light faded. Creatures of the night sang their night song. The countryside stretched around them. Hills became shadowed as the world seemed to take a last breath.
Reis chose a dried riverbed that ran beneath a sloping hill.
It was set low enough to hide a fire from lurking eyes.
A great oak tree had rooted there, offering to shelter them from the worst of the wind.
The sun set and the stars began to dot the night sky, peeking through the oak branches that sheltered her.
Mirielle was exhausted and the pain in her side had returned throughout the day. It dug into her side as they rode through the country like twisting knives grinding flesh.
Mirielle sat at the edge of camp on a fallen log, her cloak wrapped tightly around her and watched with quiet fascination as Reis made camp.
He gathered dried, fallen sticks and branches from beneath the tree and assembled them in a pyre.
Kissing flint to steel, a fire bloomed in brush and twigs, quickly growing into a roaring fire.
He unfastened the packs and bedrolls from Maisey and unsaddled Hank and set them to graze in a nearby open field.
He unfurled two worn canvas tarps and secured ropes to the trunk of the large oak.
He pulled the ropes taut and secured the other ends to stakes driven through rough soil, creating two small makeshift shelters.
When he was finally finished, he drew his sword. Mirielle flinched and his gaze cut to her. He watched as she retreated into herself and her silver eyes dropped to the ground in practiced submission.
"Stay here," Reis commanded softly.
Mirielle watched him as he disappeared into a patch of overgrown shrubbery where she could no longer see him.
The night settled heavy around her. She kept close to the fire, listening to every brush of undergrowth in the wind and rustling of leaves. Somewhere in the night a dove called.
Then, finally, she heard footsteps and Reis stepped through the parted grass.
He carried a pair of spotted rabbits by their feet. Blood trickled down their fur from fatal wounds in their necks. Mirielle's stomach turned as she watched him skin both rabbits, leaving only their bare carcasses behind.
Reis noticed her pallid face and smirked. "I'm guessing you didn't spend much time in the kitchens."
"I made it a point to stay away from the butcher," she admitted as nausea rolled in her stomach.
He pulled out a knife and began filleting their flesh, dropping small pieces of red meat into a small pot. Then he pulled glistening onions and thick root vegetables from their rucksacks, chopped them and added clean water from a pouch.
The night settled into sleeping stillness while the fire cracked softly between them.
The smell of stew filled the air with a hearty, earthy smell that made Mirielle's mouth water.
When it was finally finished, Reis handed her a wooden bowl and a thick slice of dry bread he had retrieved from a pack.
Having not eaten since dawn, Mirielle ate eagerly. The broth was rich and hearty, seasoned with herbs that Mirielle couldn't place.
"You look surprised."
"I am surprised."
One of his brows lifted.
"I watched you skin them," she said. "I was certain that mattered more."
A smirk tugged at Reis from behind his bowl as he watched her eat. "It usually matters less once you're hungry."
Mirielle took another bite.
"Is it supposed to taste this good?"
Reis barked a laugh. "It's rabbit stew, princess, not a royal feast."
"I know."
Her response was too quick, too quiet. She lowered her gaze to her bowl.
Reis felt the shift.
Retreat.
Gods.
He was beginning to recognize it.