Chapter Thirteen
Rhylen
Ipour over the map one last time in the wee hours of the night. My neck aches and screams in protest every time I move it. The correspondences I hold in my hand racks my brain. Three more caravans due to travel this way for the castle. Three more loaded down with food, coin, and most likely slaves.
There’s a trail of burned villages in my wake.
Every place I frequent, the damn prince burns to the ground under the guise of tax payment relapses or rebel camps.
Anger burns deep in my gut. Every death, orphaned child, and enslaved person will have their vengeance after I’m through with this spoiled brat of a prince, whether we have to burn the kingdom to the ground and start anew, or not.
Looking back at my latest note, one thing is certain, Isla’s the key to finally getting one step ahead.
Once I prove her beloved captain is the monster in her fairytale, she’ll open wide up, spill his secrets for all to know.
He has weaknesses and I’m going to exploit them to the fullest possibility. It’s only a matter of time.
Isla whimpers in her sleep as she tosses and turns. Sometime over the hours, her blanket has slipped off of her. I’m not sure what comes over me, but I get up, making my way towards her. I lift the blanket up to cover her shoulders when she whimpers again.
“Please don’t. I’m sorry,” she mumbles.
“Isla,” I whisper. She shifts when I nudge her gently.
Isla groans in response. I teeter between letting her suffer in her night terrors and waking her.
Why wouldn’t I want her to be miserable every chance I could?
It’s a conflict that frustrates me. Isla’s quiet for a bit longer, so I give up.
Sighing, I stand up and leave the tent. It’s time for my watch.
I meet Argus at the edge of camp. He’s sitting on the ground, his back is leaned against a tree. “How was it?” I ask in greeting.
“Quiet, per usual. All is well.”
I nod in response.
“So, what’s the plan with her anyways?”
I cut my eyes at him. His curious demeanor lately grinding my nerves into a pulp. He’s the grouchy sort, never likes anything new or an unexpected change of plans, but he usually goes with whatever hair-brained scheme the twins can come up with. Except lately.
“It’s still forming.” My mind flashes to Jasper, standing in the small bedroom above the pub, with desperation written all over his face. Isla and Raia are fugitives now. They wouldn’t be able to return home, but surely we can’t keep them with us.
Besides, we need to extract all the information we can about the damn captain before Isla leaves us for good. Surely, there was something he’s told her during their hidden meetings in the woods, something that slipped.
Argus fixates on the small fire pit from the tree line we stand near as the three women slowly make their way out of their sleeping arrangements.
Wyll and Irric greet them with wide smiles on their faces, putting Maisie and Raia immediately at ease.
I watch Isla sit stiffly on the ground, forgetting Argus was still standing next to me.
He huffs, annoyance pouring off him. “Catches your eye, does she?”
“She’s beautiful, sure. Any man can see that.”
“Aye. The captain has a taste. But so do you.”
I look away for a quick glance, before focusing back on Argus. “You’re seeing things.”
He snorts in response. “I think you’re already falling into her siren’s call. The captain clearly did.”
I bark a laugh. “Over one night, Argus? Your stupidity is unbecoming.”
“You’re too carefree, Rhylen. You’re so cocky and sure of yourself.”
I scoff. “You think I’m a fool? Too casual and carefree to not even take care of my men. You think this is some game we’re playing? Over what? A small pouch of coins and humiliation? Think harder, you fool. Bigger stakes are at hand.”
Argus clicks his tongue in disapproval. “I think this robbing the Prince directly and attacking him will be the end of you. You’re going about it the wrong way. And now her?”
“Why so scared now, Argus? What is the move you would make, since you’re all knowing.”
“You know best.” Argus shrugs, turns around, and marches off. I watch Argus storm into the camp, towards his tent. Irritation flits through me while I weigh the options at hand.
With the sun fully up, I give up the watch and walk towards my men and our current visitors.
“So tell me, Isla. What is it about this captain that has you falling over yourself for him?” Wyll asks.
There’s a wily smile that spreads across his face as his curiosity gets the better of him.
I didn’t think it was possible, but Isla stiffens up even more.
At this rate, one touch would have her snapping in half.
“Well,” she starts, suspicion lines her voice. “He’s kind and sweet. He’s funny.”
“Funny? Funny how?” Wyll interrupts her. It’s hard to reckon the man she was infatuated with; with the same cold-blooded killer we frequently evade.
“Uh,” she hesitates, telling me everything I need to know. Captain Cahir of the Prince’s Royal army is not, in fact, funny.
“He tells jokes.” Isla looks over at Wyll. He looks back at her expectantly, waiting for her to expand on these jokes. His face is straight, not a smile in sight.
“He tells jokes,” Wyll repeats, slowly. His eyebrows are raised to the top of his forehead.
“Well, he’s certainly funnier than you,” Isla snaps, causing Irric to laugh. She huffs at the twins, irritation setting in.
“What else, then? Surely that’s not all you’re infatuated with.”
“I’m not infatuated. I love him and he loves me.”
Wyll gawks at Isla, disbelief written on his face.
I look over at Raia, sitting in between Ewan and Maisie, far more relaxed than her friend.
She rolls her eyes at Isla's statement of love. Interesting, so her friend doesn’t quite believe the story that the Captain is giving Isla.
Jasper’s words echo in my head— the whole town isn’t so sure of his obsession with her.
And what of her dreams? Clearly there’s something there.
“Come on, brother. Leave her alone,” Irric chortles.
“I just want to see what she sees him in,” Wyll grumbles.
“There are some things you just can’t explain. Like love. How can I explain that to a thief such as yourself?” Isla retorts.
“Ahh, lovey. That’s the last thing you’ll ever have to explain to me.” Wyll winks, causing Isla to laugh. She relaxes for a moment, forgetting the thieves and murderers who surround her.
Wyll plucks at the strings on his lute while Irric tends to breakfast over the fire. “Next hour or so, another band will come through.” He looks over at me, with a knowing smile on his face.
“Who’s going to stay with them?” Irric motions inconspicuously towards the three sitting on the ground. Ire flashes on Isla’s face. I look over to Ewan, who nods subtly.
“I’ll do it,” he speaks up.
“By all means, don’t worry about us. I’d hate for any of you to lose out on any fun.”
Wyll throws his head back, laughing. “Think we’re that daft? You’d be off in the woods getting eaten by something far larger than you. Me thinks not.”
Raia shakes her head, muffling her quiet laugh. “Ewan’s not all that bad lovey. A little boring, but I promise to bring you back something nice.”
“I don’t need anything from you,” Isla snarls.
Wyll exhales, “suit ya’self.” He gets up, moving to put the small lute back in his tent and prepare for our outing.
Irric counts the medicinal stores that we have left, making small notes, while I fill my quiver and strap it to my back.
Isla looks over at him, curiosity written on her face. Interesting.
“We’ll need more supplies soon, Rhylen” Irric comments.
He motions towards the small salves that he pulled out.
Only two jars remained and one of them was half empty.
While the prince required coin, food, and slaves, he very rarely had medicinal supplies delivered to the castle from far villages.
Supplies like these required time and attention.
Time and attention in villages that we didn’t have. I shake my head no.
“How long do we have?”
“Depends on whether or not a knife slips.” Irric raises a brow.
“So, not long,” Wyll muses. He sits back down with a bag over his shoulder. “We could go back to their village? Ask the local healer.” He tosses a thumb towards Isla and Raia, who are watching the exchange. Raia nudges Isla.
“She can help!” Raia exclaims. We all turn our attention to our sour-faced guest. Isla scowls at her best friend.
“You’re familiar with herbs?” Irric asks.
“I know a thing or two,” she mutters quietly.
“A thing or two?” Raia fusses. “Don’t be coy, Isla. She practically supplied Healer Sibley and the rest of the village.”
“Ewan. Take these two deeper into the woods. Let them forage for what we need. A job would do them well,” I order. Curious, she doesn’t fight the order. A small look of peace settles over her face as she closes her eyes. Ewan dips his chin in a nod.
“Time to go.” Wyll jumps up, rubbing his hands together in excitement. “We have more pretties to collect.” Argus marches out of his tent, ready to go, while Irric fetches the horses.
I glance back at Isla, feeling the weight of her eyes on me. There’s a look of conflict on her face as we mount our horses.
“Don’t be sad, lovey.” Wyll cracks. “I’ll be back in your arms before the day’s end.” Raia snorts. Isla simply looks away, rolling her eyes. I dip my chin in a subtle farewell and push my mare on.