Chapter 22
I flitted around my quarters in the early hours of the morning, a bloody sunrise gilding the clouds outside my window. The journey to Hollybrook promised to be cold and miserable, and so I tossed anything made of wool or fur into the leather saddlebags that had been delivered to my bedchamber.
There wasn’t much room, but I had no intention of spending the next fortnight freezing and soaked to the bone on the back of a horse.
I weaved my hair into a braid as I debated which coat to bring.
For the first time in my life, I actually had options.
I grabbed the heaviest one, its wool the color of the mist that shrouded the castle grounds on early summer mornings.
Thanks to Dr. Murrows, I would carry a small apothecary with me on the journey.
Marshmallow root tea to stave off illness, a calendula salve for blisters and sore joints, and finally, my valerian root mixture.
I needed to be at full strength when I arrived at Hollybrook, and ready to face the Ealdorfyre.
The Ealdorfyre. A shiver went down my spine.
It had haunted me in my dreams again last night, only this time it was Valnar instead of Wealdstone that was being consumed by ravenous flames.
My skin prickled as I recalled the first time I had summoned it.
It was like a living being, snapping at my heels like a rabid dog.
Standing before the looking glass, I dressed plainly in riding breeches and an ivory-hued sweater.
A brand-new pair of leather riding boots sat by the door.
I wrapped my feet in thick wool socks before slipping them on, leaning against the bed for support.
I might miss this bed most of all. The terrain ahead of us was rough, and although Mordric had promised that a series of guest houses and inns awaited us along our journey, I doubted that I’d experience another comfortable night until we reached the university. Maybe not even then.
I shrugged on my coat just as a knock sounded on the door.
A footman stood in the doorway ready to take my bags to the horses.
A stablehand greeted me as I arrived at the castle entrance, clutching two pairs of reins.
The first belonged to a tall bay whose coat shimmered as if it had been polished, the muscles beneath rippling.
Enhart stood at its side, running his fingers through its forelock to reveal a white star.
The other was a black mare who eyed me warily, her ears flattened against her head.
I fiddled nervously with the end of my braid.
Mordric joined us at the castle gates to bid me goodbye. “How do you feel?” he asked, resting a hand on the nape of my neck. There was so much that went unsaid between us. I searched his eyes for some sign of hurt, or regret, but found none in the glittering black pools.
“Fine,” I lied. “This is all just so sudden.”
He flashed a soft smile, touching his lips briefly to mine. “It’s for the best. Now, promise me that you’ll be safe.”
“I will,” I assured him. “Could you ask one of your pages to deliver this to Vesper?” I asked, slipping a note into his hand. It bade farewell to my friend, and gave a promise to visit once I returned.
He smiled. “Of course.”
Enhart swung himself effortlessly into the saddle, saying nothing to his brother. “Good boy, Grim,” he said, patting the creature’s neck.
“Do you need a hand?” asked the stablehand. I shook my head, taking the reins from him and climbing clumsily onto the mare’s back. She snorted beneath me, shimmying sideways.
Enhart narrowed his eyes. “You do know how to ride, don’t you?”
I returned his scowl. “Of course.” Admittedly, it had been quite a few years, my last mount a cantankerous old pony named Oscar who had belonged to my father.
“Good, because Arlys is a handful.”
I eyed the horse warily. “Great.”
With a final wave to Mordric, who watched on silently, we set off down the path to the city, the only sound between us the steady beat of horseshoes against stone.
Before long, the densely clustered buildings gave way to a great expanse of countryside.
In the summer, the rolling hills outside Valnar would be blanketed in pillowy grass that quaked in the breeze.
Sheep and goats would graze in their pastures peacefully.
Except, I mused, if a certain mother wyvern wandered down from the forest in search of dinner for her hatchlings.
In mid-spring, though, the ground had grown sodden with seasonal rains and livestock clustered together beneath wooden lean-tos at the edge of their pastures. I tugged my cowl over my head as fine droplets of rain leaked from the skies.
“Why are we going west?” I asked, breaking the silence.
Enhart turned his head slightly. “Did you expect us to tunnel through the mountains?”
I nudged Arlys forward with my heels, pulling her alongside him. She flattened her ears and snapped her teeth at his gelding. “I’m going to ignore that veiled insult,” I replied. “And remind you that I’ve only traveled across Valen once.”
“My apologies, Miss Erramun. I sometimes forget that I am the worldliest person you know.”
“I don’t know if you’re the worldliest,” I muttered to myself.
“The reason that we’re going west is that there’s no safe passage through the mountains north of the castle.
No passage at all, really, especially not at this time of the year when the snowmelt makes the journey treacherous.
So, we’ll have to go the long way around.
We’ll head west for about five days, then north until we reach the Pass of Pelthen and can cut through the mountains. ”
“And that will be less treacherous?” I asked warily. I had little confidence in my skills on horseback as it was.
“Not particularly.”
I sighed, squinting up at the cloudy sky. It couldn’t be later than three o’clock by now, which was usually far too early for a vampire to leave the dark comfort of his home. “Doesn’t the light bother you?” I asked.
“It’s not ideal,” the prince replied sullenly, “but it’s safer for us to travel during the day when the roads are empty. I imagine this must be some relief to you, no? It can’t be easy for humans to live by vampires’ waking hours.”
I shrugged. “It wasn’t at first. I used to have terrible insomnia when most people were dead asleep in the early morning. It’s been three years, though. I’m used to it.”
He frowned. “Three years?”
“That’s when I came to Valnar.”
“I’m surprised it took my brother so long to notice you.”
I winced at the mention of Mordric, still riddled with guilt after the events of last night.
I glanced sideways at Enhart, wondering if he’d ever been in love.
I didn’t think it was love that I had seen between him and Genevieve, but I supposed love took many forms. “What do we need to be kept safe from, exactly?” I asked, deliberately changing the subject.
“Weren’t you attacked by a madman a few months ago? Remember, you made a big show of finding out exactly what happened and dragged me with you? Not that your efforts were successful by any means.”
“That seems like an exaggeration,” I said.
He remained silent, his face pulled into a scowl. “So you are angry about that,” I guessed.
“I don’t particularly enjoy risking my life to defy the King of Valen. He had a point, you know. You shouldn’t have been there.”
“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come with me. Will you forgive me?”
“We’ll see.”
“Anyway,” I continued, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve never run into any repeat murderers in the Valenian countryside.”
“You’d be surprised,” he muttered darkly.
I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand, cutting me off before I began. “Traveling during the day will give us a healthy measure of anonymity,” he said. “I am the Crown Prince, after all. If you don’t like it, feel free to register your complaints with the King.”
I slumped in my seat, flexing my fingers around the reins to keep the damp from seeping into my joints.
The last time I had crossed Valen, I had done most of the walking on my own two feet.
The five coppers that had been in my pocket when I fled had run out alarmingly quickly, and so I enchanted objects to resemble coin.
Pebbles from the side of the road, acorns that had fallen from the oak trees above, even buttons I plucked from my own dress.
I spent them only on food and fare paid to ferrymen and the rare traveling merchant who was kind enough to allow me to ride in the back of their wagon. It had kept me alive.
As the hours passed, soreness pooled in the backs of my thighs.
The pain I had felt back then was an entirely different kind—the sharp sting of being cast out by my people.
Letting my thoughts drift, I recalled the way my boots had frayed until the soles were practically ground to dust, the blisters that sprouted where my skin rubbed against the leather until they burst and leaked blood over my socks.
I still bore the scars from that journey on my feet.
As we traveled beyond the capital, the villages began to shrink, the empty stretches of land between them expanding. I relished the scent of the country air, unsullied by the smoke of thousands of chimneys. I inhaled deeply.
The pastures that lined the roads were filled with all manner of the livestock for which this region was known—stocky cows with thick tresses that obscured their eyes, woolly goats, and snow-white sheep.
Remarkably, the roads weren’t in terrible condition like they were in the Outlands, the main routes lined with stone or sometimes cobbled to allow the heavy snowmelt to drain without flooding.