Chapter 6 #2
I leaned against a tree, watching as a team of two went to every fallen body and jammed their swords into them. They almost seemed bored as they ensured that every one of Koerlyn’s soldiers was dead.
The gory scene didn’t bother me as much as it probably should have.
Whether it was my time with Koerlyn or the fact that these attackers had wanted to hurt me, I couldn’t find it in myself to react.
What did that say about me? I’d never been soft-hearted or particularly empathetic, but it seemed wrong not to be bothered by the sight of lives being robbed before me.
The horses returned soon after. As everyone found their steeds, one of Harthon’s men approached me. His weathered skin was deeply tanned, and long, gray hair was pulled into a tie. He had to be the oldest of Harthon’s group, but even with his apparent age, his body was thick with strength.
I straightened as I noticed the small brown cloth in his hand.
His voice was raspy when he spoke. “This is for your neck. There’s a balm already on it.
Pat it into the cut thoroughly, then leave it uncovered.
” He handed the fabric to me but didn’t immediately leave.
His light brown eyes studied mine for a moment.
“I’m sure Harthon gave you his mind already, but thank you for what you did for Joris.
Few in your position would have done so,” he said, then he turned and walked away.
Few people in my position would be so idiotic.
I did as instructed, cleaning the dried blood from my skin. The men mounted their horses, and Harthon appeared, summoning me with a sharp nod. I lifted myself onto the saddle, and then our group was underway again, moving at a faster clip than before.
It was a silent journey as we rode for a seemingly endless amount of time. When the sun had nearly set, we emerged from the thousandth patch of woods to a scene that would have stolen my breath, had I not been so tired.
An enormous sea of brownish yellow sprinkled with the occasional green spot stretched before us.
The land rolled in gentle hills before crawling up to a city that was so distant, it was merely a shadowy speck.
I could just make out the outline of high walls on the horizon.
The peaky brown tops of tall hills and miniature mountains bracketed the massive field and speckled the horizon behind the city.
This must have been the valley Harthon mentioned before.
I’d never seen such vastness, never mind such hills and mountains, in my life. I only knew of them from Merelda’s descriptions and crude drawings. It was almost beautiful, even with so much dead grass.
“We rest here, but only for a few hours. Our plan is to arrive by mid-morning. It won’t take long for Koerlyn to realize his men aren’t returning, and I want as much time as possible to prepare,” Harthon announced.
The shared insight was surprising. Soldiers followed orders, with or without explanation, yet Harthon chose to offer his reasoning.
Horses were quickly secured to trees, and men sprawled out on the earth. They apparently didn’t carry the bed mats that Koerlyn’s men had rolled out every night.
Harthon deposited me on my feet and pointed at a grassy patch in the middle of his men. “That’s your bed. Sleep while you can. Find a tree to do what you need.” He grabbed the reins, turning away from me.
“What about you?”
Why in the Domus would I care?
He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m on watch. Sleep, Etarla,” he said, leaving me.
I found a quiet tree and took advantage of the privacy before returning to the patch.
I laid where he instructed, desperately missing last night’s luxurious bed as bumps in the ground dug into my muscles.
Part of me had expected a fire, but no one was building one. Heavy snores sounded a moment later.
Fighting a plague of shivers, I pulled my cloak from my shoulders and draped it over me like a blanket. I tucked my arm beneath my head, making sure my damaged cheek faced the sky. I briefly wondered how Harthon had become so skilled with knives, and then sleep came.
* * *
A hand jostled my shoulder. I jolted upright.
And nearly screamed.
North’s bearded, scowling face loomed over me, the sky a dark sheet above him. Seeing that I was awake, he prowled away.
My heart jumped against my ribs, cheek throbbing in time with each pulse as I oriented myself. The men already sat on their horses, ready to go. Somehow, I’d slept through the ruckus. Clearly, I’d been the only one.
I staggered to my feet as Harthon approached on his black steed.
“Good morning,” he said, stopping beside me as I rushed to secure my cloak. If he didn’t rest, his appearance didn’t betray him. As usual, the top half of his hair was tied back, the strands neat.
Mine probably resembled a nest.
He leaned down, stretching a hand toward me. Instinct guided me as I secured my foot in the stirrup and met his reach. His grasp was firm as he easily pulled me up. My leg rammed into his as I swung it around, and I landed on the saddle with an unceremonious thud.
“Graceful,” he commented.
“I just woke up. Nothing is working yet,” I defended, even as heat flooded my cheeks. I was rather positive everyone had seen my clumsy mount.
“You like excuses.” He tensed his legs, and our horse loped forward, beginning our trek through the valley.
“I’ve been awake for a minute. The rest of you apparently had time to get your bearings.”
“There was no need for you to be awake earlier.”
“Maybe in your eyes, but I would have appreciated a bit more time to prepare.”
His hand curled over my hip as we came to a steep decline. “Noted for next time. Any other requests you’d like to make?” Amusement colored his tone.
“Have someone other than North wake me.”
He softly chuckled, sending puffs of air across my hair. “You didn’t find his way of waking to your liking?” he asked, feigning innocence.
“For a moment, I thought I was in a nightmare.”
“He’d be pleased to know that.”
Harthon was being uncharacteristically chatty. It was as if some of the heavy focus he’d carried for the past two days had lifted. Perhaps it was because we were so close to his home.
His lips lowered to my ear. “He’s more bark than bite.”
I scoffed as he pulled back. “Right. And spirits exist.”
“They very well may,” he countered.
My eyebrows shot up. “You don’t strike me as someone who believes in fables.”
“Perhaps they aren’t fables.”
“That’s exactly what someone who believes in fables would say.”
“I believe that if unexplainable things akin to magic exist in this world, then spirits can too.”
I immediately thought of my eyes and the woman from the woods. “Are you referring to the Domus or my eyes?” I asked.
He paused for a moment. “Both. They’re connected.”
I went silent, processing what he’d just revealed.
My eyes, linked to the Domus. If he was right, it confirmed my suspicions. But I needed details. I needed to know the how, the why, the what because knowing of a simple connection gave me no answers.
“You do have more details to share, don’t you? It can’t just be that,” I asked, needing to know that those answers would come.
“There are many more details,” he confirmed.
“When we get inside those walls, right?”
“Yes.”
I eyed the black shadow that marked the city in the distance.
“Will you tell me right when we arrive?” I needed to understand why I was so important that two Princepes would invade each other’s Territories—commit acts of war—to capture me.
More importantly, I needed to know how far they would go to chase me when I eventually ran.
Would they invade Second? Force their way into my home?
“There are a few things I need to handle when we arrive. Our defenses and strategy are more important than anything, given Koerlyn’s little show of aggression.”
I never would have thought that twenty-five violent soldiers chasing us down counted as a little show, if not for how easily Harthon’s men cut them down.
“I’ll explain everything as soon as I’m able, but it can’t be my first priority.” He said it not as an apology but as a statement of fact.
The response frustrated me, even as it made sense.
Being taken by Koerlyn was technically worse than enduring another day of confusion.
But that depended on what my days at Harthon’s home were going to look like.
I was a captive, and captives usually resided in dank, dusty dungeons, eating fly-infested scraps from the floor.
Yet something told me that wouldn’t be my experience with Harthon.
In Carmen, I’d slept in luxury and received clean clothing that was better than any of my own.
He’d welcomed my questions and answered patiently, even though North would have preferred to trample me beneath his horse.
He’d left my hands free and tended to my wrists with surprising care.
He’d warned me not to disrespect him in front of his men, yet did nothing when I spoke in frustration.
For him to do all that and treat me as one normally would treat a prisoner would… well, it just wouldn’t make sense.
Yet, he was still the ruthless Princeps of Four. The one who’d killed his way into power and held me away from home. Small kindnesses had a way of blinding us to lurking threats. It was something I needed to remember.
“What is it like there?” I asked a while later as we crested yet another hill.
His hand had yet to move from my waist, but its presence was an oddly reassuring weight as the horse rolled. He wouldn’t let me fall. While Harthon was largely a mystery, the one thing I certainly knew was that he valued my survival.
“At the Citadel?”
“The city center, the Citadel, where you live, all of it.” Having never left our village for a city, Fourth’s city center was a realm of unknown. We’d stopped at Carmen, but it was miniature compared to the steadily growing shadow in the distance.