CHAPTER 39 #3
Serae being Dragonbound was only one of the reasons why I had a full crew with me, each warrior happy to defy the will of the council for her.
Not that there was any lack of volunteers for this mission—a testament to the impact Serae had made already.
My entire ranng was with me, and her ranng as well.
I had reservations about letting them join, but fuck if I didn’t relate to their steely looks when I tried to say no.
Even Raif and Lispen had gotten past whatever it was between them to come to me as a united front.
With the speed of the longship and the help of Dragon-blessed winds, we made the three-day journey in two.
It would be another half-day’s travel to get to the manor house.
Sailing at speed in a single craft meant we’d brought no horses.
We’d take the last leg on foot, and with the right pacing, we’d be there by nightfall.
Thankfully, I had the foresight to assign who would be staying back to guard the ship before we set sail, so there’d be no squabbling once we landed.
The pull to get to her was tearing me from the inside out, and every choice I made was for speed.
It had been a full month since Serae was taken from me, and the guilt was a leaden anchor in my soul.
I should never have waited for sanctioning.
Dane put too much faith in the elite families that would rather guard their fortunes than take any risks.
Their only fair point was that damage to the east gate from the bahroi, plus extensive losses at the hidden port, required immediate attention.
Every day, working from sunup to long past sundown for Drakh, I clung to my sanity by trying to convince myself that she was safe with her family.
While we bolstered our defenses and cared for our dead, I was trying not to claw my eyes out at the thought of the prisoner she risked everything to flee with or that fucker that claimed to own her.
She was safe with her family. She was safe.
But then, why was my gut still roiling with fear?
The coast was empty when our craft made shore. We wore dark, oiled leathers and minimal mail or plate. Exposed on the beach and in the light of day, we were easy to spot, but by nightfall, when we would arrive at the manor, we’d blend in with the shadows.
Seconds after making land, my ranng and I broke from the crew to take the lead.
Sellan had ensured everyone knew their role over the two days we spent at sea, partly because it was his duty as my second, and partly because he knew how close I was to snapping.
We took off at a jog, not bothering for stealth until we were farther inland.
Inra’s long coasts and sparse northern population made it easy to infiltrate their lands unseen, unlike the rocky coasts of the Riht.
Before we hit the trees, Yaego hissed, “We’ve been spotted!” She took off into the brush, leaving us scrambling to follow her.
“Fuck.” I dashed after her with Sellan hot on my heels. Pebbles flew as we ran toward the tree line and crashed straight through the brush. The glint of Yaego’s bald head was all I could focus on as I ran.
“Declare yourself!” She stopped as abruptly as she had taken off, one thin sword extended. Before her, a quivering figure stood with her back pressed against a tree. Her clothes were worn, but they were Rihtish, and a single sack was lashed across her back.
“Please,” she whimpered in Mayoran, “I’m no enemy. I know how I look—”
“Gerta?”
All eyes turned to me, and Gerta collapsed to her knees. “Wep!” she sobbed. “Thank the Creator.”
Yaego lowered her sword and stepped back.
“What’s happened?” I could hear the severity in my voice, but fuck if I could check it right now. There were things so much bigger than one maid at risk here.
“I left them weeks ago. I can’t go back. I don’t belong there. I belong with Serae in the Riht.”
“Serae isn’t in the Riht.”
She stilled. Her whole body tensed, then she got to her feet. Her tears halted. “Wep”—she leveled me with matching severity—“where is she?”
I ignored the shame that clutched at me with the admission. “At the manor.”
Gerta took in my leathers, the few pieces of strategically placed plate that would remain soundless as I moved, the swords, daggers, and bow strung across my back.
Then, her appraising eyes moved to Yaego, then Sellan.
Behind us, Branye and Praeth cursed my name as they caught up to us and earned a piece of her appraisal for themselves.
She placed a steadying hand on the birch tree at her back.
Its sparse leaves rustled overhead in the chill winter wind.
“You’re going after her,” she said matter-of-factly.
I nodded.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No.” I knew Serae would want Gerta out of harm’s way.
“I know that manor like the back of my hand. I know every hidden passage, every crack, every hole that could be exploited. I’m helping you.”
My gut told me to resist, regardless of how useful she could be. Her overdress and cloak were covered in mud and bits of dried leaves. She raised a finger at me, dirt heavy under the nail.
Whatever scolding was on her lips halted when Sellan asked, “Have you eaten recently?”
Something like guilt stole over her, and she shook her head.
He pulled a pair of cloth-wrapped babi from his cloak and handed one over.
The sight of the round pastries hit me straight between the ribs.
My hand pressed to that spot at the center of my chest that hadn’t stopped aching since Serae’s feet left Riht soil. Gerta’s eyes tracked the movement.
“Get this down, and I’ve got a waterskin too,” Sellan told her. “We’ve got a long walk ahead.”
He was deciding for me, but I couldn’t give up so easily.
I was done holding back when it came to Serae.
I beckoned her a few paces away from my ranng.
“There’s no shame in staying with the ship,” I told her, halting her protest with an upheld hand.
“We’ll take you back with us either way.
You’ve been here in the forest for—what, a month?
It doesn’t take much to see you’re half-dead on your feet already.
” Her gaze fell away from me, frown tight and brow creased.
“Whatever we need to know, tell me. You know I’ll see it through.
I’ll do whatever it takes to bring her back. ”
“She’s in love with you,” she blurted out.
My heart fucking soared. I cursed the smile that stole over my face and that little disbelieving breath that huffed out.
“I’m sorry to be the one to say it,” she continued. “She’d never say it herself, she’s too good a person. She’ll see the betrothal through and do what’s expected of her, but it’s you she truly wants. You should know that…before you do this for her.”
I ran a hand down my face as my chest splintered again. Too many regrets were piling up. “I really must get people to use my name more.”
Her brows knit together.
I extended my forearm to her, and she tentatively took it. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Eldreth, second son of Auldren, Marr Wep of the Riht, and High Dane apparent.”
Her eyes bulged, and her jaw fell open. Her hand around my forearm went slack.
“I’m here to get back my betrothed and kill anyone who gets in the fucking way.”
Her grip tightened, and tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m going with you.”
“You know what you’re saying?”
“I do. I’ve been in the wilderness living off the land, waiting to find one of your ships to get back to her.”
I nodded, praying to the Great Dragon it was the right choice.
There were thirty of us—five intact ranngs—making the trek while ten warriors remained at the galley.
The forest floor was firm, easing the journey on foot.
We kept pace, alternating between walking and jogging, and then resting every third hour.
We kept our distance from the main road, traveling parallel to it.
On horseback, it would have taken six hours at most. On foot, even at a warrior’s pace, it would take us well past nightfall.
When we jogged, Gerta fell to the back of the group, but as we walked, she moved to the front beside me, answering my questions and sharing everything she could.
“There’s a servant’s entrance at the front of the house and a separate entrance for kitchen staff ‘round the back. That’s our best choice for the middle of the night. We can sneak through to the old staircase and up to the family wing.”
I would storm through the front door if I had to.
The first goal, I knew, was stealth. If we could get in and out easily, we could be on our way home before anyone was the wiser.
But if anything went wrong, I’d burn the fucking house down to get to her.
We didn’t have time, not where Serae was concerned.
The constant thrumming inside me told me to hurry to her.
“How many servants in the house?” I asked.
“Ten if they’ve replaced me, plus three kitchen staff and two valets.”
“How many soldiers?”
Gerta shrugged. “Two, inside, unless something has gone wrong. There are more surrounding the property, but I’ve never counted.”
“Go over the family again.”
“The margrave and his wife. The oldest son is gone, so that leaves Merria and Serae.”
“How old is Merria?”
“Twenty-four.”
I stopped. Gerta caught on two paces later and turned to me. “I thought Serae was the eldest.”
“No, no, she’s the youngest child. Two older, then Serae.”
So the margrave liked to play games, too. I filed this away for later and kept walking.
“What of the man she fled with? He was an Inraen soldier. We didn’t even know he was from Cavendaffe.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know any of the militia, and I doubt Serae did.”
“She knew him.”