Teren’s eyes widened when I pulled a small crust of bread and some dried fruit from my bag.
“You had that in your bag this whole time?” he said as he sat in front of me.
He must have missed the food when they’d dug through it last night. I smirked and handed him a piece of the loaf, which he tore into. Luc returned and ate what little I had left to offer, while I finished off the smallest portion. Both Luc and Teren still looked hungry after all the food was gone.
Luc spoke up as he finished. “She’s bleeding again, diri.”
My head jerked up at Luc’s words. I glared at him for betraying me and wondered what diri meant. “It’s only a little,” I said.
Teren sat up and reached out like he was going to lift my blouse right then and there. I slapped his hand away and pointed at him. “The healer can change my bandage.”
Luc barked out a laugh. I watched them both. “What was the prince doing so far from the palace?”
Teren and Luc darted a look at each other, then at me. “Every year he visits towns in different areas of the kingdom,” Teren answered. “Meets with town officials and talks to people, mostly. Teano was his next stop.”
His next stop. It was a strange thing, to be so close to your fate yet miss it entirely. My father went out in Hálendi every few years, and Ren had gone once. I’d been so jealous that he’d gotten to see the kingdom without me that I’d never asked about it. Now I’d never get the chance.
“He’ll be headed as fast as he can to the palace now,” Luc said as he mounted his horse.
Teren glared at him, though I wasn’t sure why, and led his horse to me. “Let me give you a boost so you don’t reopen your wound.”
When he touched my arm, the heat from his hand swept through my blouse to my skin, and it took me a moment to find words to respond. “Be careful. I don’t want you stitching me up.”
Teren braced his hands on my hips with a smile. I froze for a moment, still very aware of his touch, and stared at the hollow where his neck and collarbone met.
“Easy does it. Try not to twist as you go.”
Oh, right. Mounting the horse.
I let Teren do most of the lifting. Once in the saddle, it was no time at all before he was right behind me.
“Ready?” His breath stroked my neck as he spoke low in my ear. I shifted to hide the shiver his voice sent down my back.
When we’d been trotting for several minutes—keeping a more sedate pace to rest the horses during the hottest hours of the day—I asked a question I’d been curious about ever since Teren had said my name.
“What happens to the prince now that there isn’t a betrothal with Hálendi anymore? Do you think he’s…relieved?”
Teren let out a gusty sigh behind me. “I’m not sure if ‘relieved’ is the right word. He got out of an agreement with the Hálendians, but the Riigans tripled their tariffs for importing our goods, and farmers are panicking—if they can’t sell their grain, they won’t have enough to buy supplies for next year. The prince needs another betrothal in place to prevent Riiga forcing a connection by marriage.”
I let that sink in for a few steps. “Even though his betrothed just died? There isn’t a…mourning period or something?”
Teren’s hands tightened on the reins. “The prince told me he didn’t know her well enough to mourn her. Any correspondence from him went unanswered by her, tradition forgotten, and she even had her father sign the agreement on her behalf. Clearly, she didn’t take an active interest in their union.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from blurting anything out. But I wanted to. I didn’t know the prince, whether or not he was a good person, whether or not we would have gotten along. Still, the idea of him thinking ill of me—of dead me—didn’t sit right.
“If someone could prove our innocence to Hálendi, we wouldn’t have a war to fight,” Teren said. “We wouldn’t have to rush into something….”
Here it was. The reason he was giving me so much information. I had answers. I had proof, even. Was the proof. But the mage’s knife across Aleinn’s throat was too fresh. She’d sacrificed everything for me, and if I announced myself, offered myself up, it would only bring the mage to my door faster.
“You think Hálendi’s council would listen to your proof if you had it?” I asked. Stalling for time.
“They’d better. We don’t have enough soldiers to fight off Hálendi and Riiga.”
I shivered and realized I could barely feel my hands they were so cold. There had to be some way, something I could say that would convince them to get me into the palace and avoid the dungeon.
“I may have information that could help you,” I said hesitantly. Teren went perfectly still behind me. “But if I give up that information, my kingdom could see it as treason. I’d need protection, anonymity, in exchange.”
A long moment passed before Teren spoke. “But you’d talk to the king?”
I nodded and swallowed, thirsty again, though we’d just drunk our fill at the stream. “After we find a healer,” I whispered, and Teren shifted to look closer at my face.
“Luc,” he called ahead. “I think we need to run for it.”
I winced at his booming voice next to my ear, then lurched back into his chest when his stallion started to gallop.
Ice and heat pounded into my side with each hoofbeat. I tried to breathe deeply and focus on my surroundings.
My head ached, and the wound throbbed. I wasn’t as cold as I had been before, but something else was wrong. My mind began swirling, skipping over thoughts like a smooth stone over water. Almost like in the Wild. I pressed my hand against Ren’s book in my pocket.
Teren tucked his arm tighter around my middle, supporting more of my weight. I didn’t have the energy to resist, or really do much of anything. He leaned down and had to shout to be heard over the whistle of wind through my ears.
“Do you need to rest?”
I shut my eyes as I tried to process his words. Rest. Yes, I wanted to rest. “No,” I shouted as I turned my head toward him. “Keep going—I can make it.” I winced at the lie.
“We’re close, Aleinn.” I could hear the worry in his voice, and turned so I could tuck my head against his chest for just a moment.
* * *
A change in the horse’s steady pace jolted me out of sleep. I shifted, twisting my body to balance out the ride. The shard of ice in my side flared out, fighting the heat I felt everywhere else, and I gasped and squeezed my eyes shut. Master Hafa told me once that tension spreads pain, so I steadied my breathing and tried to relax.
Colors blurred by as I focused on taking my next breath. Teren leaned down to say something in my ear, but I couldn’t make sense of his words. I only saw the fading light and felt minutes, hours, ticking away. Every time he leaned down, I responded with, “I’m okay. Keep going.”
The scenery and the sun’s arc hazed by, slowing down and speeding up at odd intervals. I blinked once and found we were racing through a city much bigger than the villages we’d gone through. My head was propped up by Teren, tucked between his shoulder and neck. I caught glimpses of curious eyes, dark hair, and flashes of light from windows as we clopped through the winding streets. The sky was deepening to the purple before the black, and I hoped we were close.
I kept waiting to stop at the healer’s shop, but when we got to a set of gates set in thick walls, we passed right through with just a shout to the guards from Luc. How well off was this healer?
Finally, finally, we stopped, and the world seemed to take an extra turn. I felt hands under my arms, pulling me off the horse, someone helping my leg over the saddle. I leaned against whoever held my arm and felt wetness trickle down my side. My breathing was shallow and fast, and my eyes were getting heavy.
A flurry of servants ran around us in a blur of drab colors. Shout
s of “Your Highness!” and “Prince Enzo!” competed in a sort of dissonant melody, a muted chaos competing with the pounding beat of ice and heat and pain through my body.
But at least we had stopped. Instead of a healer’s abode, a palace with huge windows and a turret sprawled in front of us.
Wait. The palace? They were supposed to take me to a healer first.
“Your Highness!”
I turned out of habit toward the old man who’d called out. He was looking our way, but not at me.
“Master Romo,” Teren said, returning the man’s greeting.
The world spun again, and I lurched into Teren’s side.
“Cavolo, Aleinn!” He picked me up in his arms and faced the army of servants and stablehands. “Why didn’t you tell me the bleeding had gotten worse?” The noise around us crashed into my head.
“Let me,” Luc said. “You should meet with your father.”
My hand squeezed the material of Teren’s tan vest, and he held me tighter. “I’ll take her to Yesilia first.”
Who was Yesilia? And why was Teren meeting with his father?
Luc and the man Teren had called Master Romo carved a path through the people running about.
“Welcome home, Prince Enzo,” Master Romo said with a bow, and opened the palace doors for us.
I blinked slowly, and my brow furrowed as I looked up and saw the set of Teren’s jaw. “You’re the prince?”
In the Hálendi Borderlands
The light came out of the pool itself, casting odd shadows on the cavern wall. Brownlok leaned over the edge, listening to the other mages through the still water.
“What do you mean, all your shades were defeated?” he said. “Who could defeat them all?”
Water dripped down from the moldy cave ceiling as he waited for Graymere to answer.
“The shades don’t reveal any more detail than shadow through their eyes, and the land resisted my magic—Kais found a way to interfere, as usual. But we don’t need to worry about some Hálendian coward.”
A low hiss echoed through the pool, rippling the water. “And the other problem?”
“Taken care of.” Graymere’s grating voice echoed through the cavern. “Hálendi is stretched thin and ready to fall. We won’t have any interference from the line of kings and their so-called magic. Redalia, do you have the location?”
The light in the cave took on the crimson hue of blood. “That king is a power-hungry fool who yearns for trinkets when real glory is within his grasp.” Redalia’s normally sultry voice was sickly sweet and sarcastically sharp. “His advisor was quite the fan of mine, though, and thought he would impress me with his knowledge of where the manuscript with the location is—in the palace library in Turiana.”
Brownlok’s eyes narrowed under his cowl, but Graymere spoke first.
“What?” His rage tumbled around the cave. “Hálendi will attack Turia within the week! The entire kingdom will be crawling with soldiers suspicious of any foreigner.”
“I took care of Lord Blaire—more quickly than he deserved, the snake.” Redalia’s voice, smooth again, calmed the reverberations in the cave. “His study also revealed a key of some sort.”
Graymere hummed, a low, rumbling sound that sent loose pebbles cascading down the walls. “He would layer his treasure with tricks and traps.”
Brownlok spoke up again, at last. “Let me go to Turia. I’m near, and could get into the palace to retrieve—”
A silvery laugh tinkled through the cavern, silencing him. “Don’t fret, little Brown,” Redalia said. “We won’t need your heroics quite yet. The Contintent is weak, ravaged by its own wars, and without magic.” The laugh danced through the cave again. “Perhaps we should just finish what we have started here and keep the Plateau for ourselves.”
“The Plateau is irrelevant,” Graymere said. “We would use up the remaining stores of our magic to conquer it, and without the replenishing power the Continent holds for those who know how to harness it, we would waste away within years. Besides, without Moraga, I will not be at full strength. Even if they are weak, we cannot afford to fail. We can conquer these children on the Plateau after we take the Continent.”
“Of course, Lord Graymere,” Redalia said serenely, before adding, “I heard another pined for Blaire’s position next to the king. He may be of use to us.”
“Good. Stay in touch with the king. His reward for releasing us from the Ice Deserts will come.”
Redalia laughed. “Yes, Graymere,” she purred, his name echoing in the cave.
“Brownlok, continue making trouble at the border,” Graymere demanded before Brownlok could protest. “We’ll have the map soon, regardless of Riiga’s misstep. My followers are gathering once again. We move to the next part of the plan. The next kingdom to fall.”
Light flickered beyond my eyelids. I was almost warm. I cracked my eyes open, wincing at what felt like sand beneath my lids.
Tall windows lined one side of the room, letting in the early light of dawn, and embers glowed in a big fireplace on the opposite wall. There were several beds in my line of vision, all unoccupied. A vacant stool rested beside mine. I shifted and felt my side stretch, but the pain I expected was barely there.
Where—
I groaned. Teren. Enzo, actually. Prince Enzo.
My mind jumped around, remembering the longest ride of my life, how no one had questioned our entrance through the palace gates, the shouting and chaos, and then his arms. He’d had to carry me. And we were technically betrothed. I squeezed my eyes shut in embarrassment as I remembered waking next to him in the cottage, how I’d lied to him.
And I would have to keep lying. I couldn’t attract the attention of the mage. Not yet.
Even though I was surrounded by a palace of people, I was on my own again.
I lifted my shirt and peeked under the white strips of cloth wrapped tight around my middle. Two little black stitches marked my stomach now, puckering the skin together. My head fell back against the feather pillow. I was glad I’d been asleep for that part.
Along the wall, not far from my bed, a tall shelf was filled with odd, mismatched jars of herbs and concoctions. My nose itched with the combination of scents, each trying to overpower the others. There were two doors—one at either end of the room. One had two guards standing stiffly, glaring from afar. The other swung open as if my gaze had summoned the entrant.
A white-haired woman emerged, back bent with age, but eyes bright, even from across the room. She crossed to the guards and spoke briefly with them, too quiet to hear. One nodded and opened the door, where two more waited. A tiny part of me was proud at how many they’d posted.
The woman went to the shelf next, and gathered one small, squat jar and one tall, skinny one. Her scarf, instead of hanging down her back like those in the villages had, was wrapped with her hair into a bun.
She sat on the low stool next to me, brushed my hands out of the way, and lifted my shirt from my stomach. No greeting, no introduction. The guards, who had their hands on their swords, kept their eyes firmly ahead.
“Morning,” I croaked. My hand surreptitiously checked my hair—still braided, still under the yellow scarf. The woman tracked my movement but didn’t comment.
“I am Yesilia,” she said in a quiet voice, yet the underlying strength in it reminded me of my father.
This must be the healer Teren—no, Enzo—had meant. He hadn’t said the healer we were seeing was in the palace. Then I noticed my ring was gone. And my sword and bag, and even my boots. I frantically patted my skirt. Ren’s book was gone, too. They’d taken everything.
She raised her eyebrows higher the longer she inspected my wound. “Your infection has healed very…quickly,” she said. “Even for me.”
I resisted the urge to touch my hair again. Yesilia glanced my way before she pou
red a few drops from each jar into a small bowl and swirled them together. Her eyes, piercing and green, met mine. “Drink.”
I took the bowl at her command, swishing the contents a few more times. “Where are my belongings?”
She raised an eyebrow. No words. Barely blinking. I’d had my fair share of staring matches with stubborn courtiers, but this woman who mostly communicated with her eyebrows…
I took a sip of the liquid, and it burned like I’d swallowed evergreen needles. “What is that?” I sputtered out, wiping my mouth with my hand.
Her lips pursed like she was holding back a smile. “It will help with the pain.” She gathered up her jars and returned them to the shelf, then slipped between the guards and out the door. By the time it shut behind her, the stinging had faded and left a coating on my throat that slowly filtered to my limbs.
When the sun had fully risen, the door opened and someone passed a tray inside. One of the guards brought it to me, eyeing me like a poisonous snake. I decided he could look at me however he wanted as long as he kept bringing trays filled with warm bread, some kind of mushy, grainlike soup with a delicious nutty flavor, and fresh berries.
Yesilia was gone for hours. In the Wild, there had been so much noise I almost hadn’t noticed I was alone. Here, the silence was complete.
Somewhere within these walls, the answers awaited. Irena and Ren had both mentioned how extensive the palace’s library was. On magic. Maybe even on tethers, even though mine were broken now. If I could find a way to stay, to be able to use that library, I could find a way to defeat the mage.
My father had often spoken of King Marko’s cunning, that he could not be deceived or taken advantage of. Master Hafa had spoken of lesser magic manifesting in other kingdoms to balance out the magic in the line of kings of Hálendi. Maybe that was why Teren—Enzo—could see the shimmering waves. And maybe Marko’s cunning was a form of magic as well. I’d have to be careful with what I said and did if I wanted to stay in the palace and out of the dungeon.
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