Chapter 35
We rode toward Valnar as if the wightgasts were snapping at our heels.
Beyond the gaping maw that marked the Pass of Pelthen, summer had taken hold of the realm.
The rains that had plagued us on our journey to Hollybrook had ended in the weeks since, giving way to the scraggly wildflowers that now lined the mountain roads. The air was sweet with their perfume.
Enhart insisted that we keep off the main roads, only stopping where we could be sure there would be a roof over our heads.
He didn’t consider any of Mordric’s guest houses to be safe after the events at Hollybrook, so we instead sought shelter in empty houses belonging to his old friends.
We encountered no one, and on the rare occasion that we did stop, it was only long enough to ensure that the horses were rested and watered, no more than a few hours at a time.
If my muscles ached on the journey to Hollybrook, it was nothing compared to the way back.
My riding leathers were practically plastered to my skin, my nose and cheekbones chapped and pink from the mountain winds that pursued us south.
In the rare moments that I caught sight of my reflection, I winced at the purplish shadows under my eyes.
But nothing rattled me more than Enhart.
He kept one hand on the hilt of his steel dagger at all times, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon for signs of an ambush.
I spent most of my days silently recounting the events at the encampment in the hopes that I might remember new information that would put his mind at ease.
Some ten days after our departure, if I was keeping count correctly, we rested in an empty manor a ways off of the main road. The house was empty for the season, motes of dust flitting past my eyes every time I opened a door.
I stretched out my legs before the smoldering fire, my leathers stiff and my muscles stiffer.
Pulling a strip of salted meat from my pack, I tore a piece off with my teeth.
It tasted like little more than smoke, but I forced it down with a swig of water from my skein.
If I didn’t, Enhart would lecture me about how important it was to keep my energy up in case of an attack, like he had nearly every night since we’d left Hollybrook.
He stood by the window with his eyes trained on the horizon, a new and unnerving habit of his.
My attention drifted to his right hand, where his thumb and forefinger moved in a circular pattern, as if he was rolling something small between them.
If I reached out with my will, I knew I would sense the same sturdy determinedness that had driven him since he found me in the woods.
It was admirable, I thought, to never allow himself to be controlled by fear. Or, at least, not to let it show.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Tired,” I admitted. “Are you certain that we can’t rest for more than a few hours tonight?”
He was quiet for a moment. “I’m afraid not. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something on our trail.”
“More wightgasts, you mean?”
“Could be.”
I shuddered, pulling my knees up to my chest. “And you?”
“I’m alright. I’ve been thinking a lot about Ophelia, actually.”
My ears perked up at the sound of my predecessor’s name. “May I ask why?”
“I’ve been thinking about her ever since you were taken. At first, it was because I thought I’d lost you, too.”
My heart thudded.
“But there’s something else I can’t quite put my finger on,” he continued. “It’s as if my gut is certain that there is a link between your disappearances, but my brain isn’t convinced.”
“You think these witches could have taken her, too?” I asked. I racked my brain, trying to visualize the faces in the crowd that had watched the proceedings in the tent. There had been many bare-faced women there, but I could not recall anyone with Ophelia’s brown eyes and curly black hair.
If she had been there, I was sure I would have recognized her.
“No,” he replied absently. “I have another theory.”
“Care to elaborate?” I asked.
He turned, flashing a grin. “Not until I’ve gathered all the evidence.”
“Oh,” I replied. Disappointment coiled in the pit of my stomach, but I didn’t dare press him. I fiddled with the end of my braid. “Can I admit something?” I asked.
“Yes?”
“I really thought I was one of the last witches. Now that I know that I’m not, I’m not sure how I should feel. Grateful because for the first time in my life I’m not alone? Or terrified?”
The prince regarded me for a moment, saying nothing.
“You think I should be terrified, don’t you?”
He shook his head. “I’m not going to tell you how to feel. I can’t even begin to understand what you’re going through.”
I smiled faintly. His empathy mattered more to me than I cared to admit. “Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “I’m still furious that they took me. But they’re real.”
“It’s complicated. I understand.”
I dropped his gaze. It wasn’t his understanding I needed. Mordric saw everyone in black and white. A threat or an ally. But I wasn’t sure it was that simple. What if these witches, for all their misdeeds against me, fell somewhere in the middle? I kept my thoughts to myself.
“You should get some rest,” said Enhart. “We’ll be in Valnar tomorrow.”
I blinked absently up at him. “We will?”
He nodded.
“Oh.”
I turned back to the fire. I had been so preoccupied with our flight from Hollybrook that I hadn’t even thought about what it would be like to be home. The summer solstice was nearly upon us, I realized, but I hardly felt more qualified to sit on Mordric’s council now than I had six months ago.
I pictured the King’s handsome face. Would he be happy to see me?
Proud of my accomplishments? Or disappointed that I’d only managed to summon the Ealdorfyre once?
Enhart had been so proud of me in that moment, but my triumph had been overshadowed by the twisted turn of events since.
I touched a hand to my face, where the scratches had faded into three pink lines.
And will you be happy to see him? My eyes widened as the unexpected thought lashed through my mind.
Of course I would. I wanted nothing more than to be home again with Mordric.
He loved me. Anxiety frothed in my stomach.
What if he said it again, and I still couldn’t say it back?
I slumped onto my side, tucking an arm beneath my head.
Enhart had turned his back to me, his arms crossed as he stared into the night.
His silhouette was the last thing I saw before sleep took me.
The following day, we found ourselves trotting down a cobbled road no more than an hour’s ride from the capital.
A wagon piled high with rickety wooden crates rattled past us, no doubt on its way to the central market.
My fingers were numb from gripping the reins, and Arlys seemed equally exhausted.
She snorted as she tripped over her own hooves.
I patted her neck, whispering words of encouragement into her perked ears.
“This way,” said Enhart, turning Grim off the main road. We crested a tall hill, passing the sheep that feasted on the bright green grass. I glanced upward, wondering warily if there were any wyverns nearby. When we reached the top of the hill, I drew in a sharp breath.
The city lay splayed out before us. The din of the busy streets was distant, but already comforting in its normalcy. My heart fluttered at the thought of what awaited me at the end of this journey. Mordric, of course, and a warm bed, but my friends, too.
I wondered which of the courtiers Vesper had offended lately, and what news Niamh might have for me about her budding romance.
We descended the hill and cut directly through the busy city center. The bell in the central tower chimed twelve times, echoing through the narrow streets. Merchants shouted as they unloaded their wares. A black dog barked as it weaved its way between the fray, its tail wagging wildly.
“It’s the prince,” squealed a young lady, dropping a basket filled with several large river fish. I grimaced as they spilled into the street, their silver scales glistening.
“Your Royal Highness,” called a butcher as he emptied a bucket of blood into the gutter. “Welcome home!”
“His Royal Highness,” excited squeals broke out among the crowd. “His Royal Highness has returned home!”
I raised my eyebrows at Enhart as he pulled his cowl over his eyes. “Don’t tease,” he said, raising a hand to his fawning subjects.
I chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The horses picked up their pace as we climbed onto the bridge connecting the city to the castle, reinvigorated now that we were so close to home.
At the far end, Mordric stood flanked by two of his guards.
He was dressed in a loose black shirt and matching breeches, his hair left loose save for his silver diadem.
My heart pounded in my chest as I laid eyes on him after all this time, but not for the reason it should. I was nervous, I realized.
“Alright,” came Enhart’s voice from behind me. “This is where I leave you.”
I nearly fell out of Arlys’s saddle. “What are you talking about?” I demanded, pulling her to a halt. She danced sideways, eager for the journey to end.
Enhart shrugged. “I have business to attend to elsewhere. This is as far as I go.”
My palms went slick around the reins. “You have business? What business?”
I sucked in a breath as a gust of cold washed over me, the prince’s velvety voice echoing in my mind.
I told you last night that I had a theory about how this all connects.
He nodded in the direction of the castle.
Once I step inside those walls, I will no longer be able to gather the evidence I need to prove it.
I balked. “This is about Ophelia?”