* * *
Warmth from the kitchen drafted into the hall, bringing with it scents of freshly baked bread and spices. Aclan breathed deeply. It had always reminded him of what home should smell like.
“Your Highness.” The cook dropped into a deep bow.
He sighed. His spoiled-prince routine was starting to grate on his nerves. “I’m hungry.” He strutted into the kitchen. It wasn’t a lie. “I don’t want to wait until dinner.”
The cook’s gaze traveled to Hendrik, who trailed behind him. Liana hid behind the cook’s skirts, a half-eaten apple in her hand. Aclan glimpsed pale blond hair before she disappeared. She peeked out again, saw him watching and disappeared from sight. But in that brief glance, he’d seen the pale eyes. Eyes that were identical to his father’s in color and shape.
“Hello, I’m Hendrik, the new tutor.” Hendrik filled the sudden silence. “His Highness said he couldn’t study on an empty stomach. My apologies.”
Aclan stared at the little girl. Liana was his blood. His family. He would take her away from this place. She deserved to have all the apples, finery and toys the kingdom could provide. It was her birthright. His thoughts stilled. He had once wished to be one of the servants’ children, playing in the kitchen. Would she be any happier alone in the nursery than he’d been? Would he take the only life she’d ever known from her?
He hesitated. He couldn’t do that to her. Perhaps he’d get to know her first. She was safe enough in the kitchens. Who else knew of her parentage? Ice traveled through his veins. Bredych knew. He had to protect this child. He glanced away. The cook was staring at him oddly. He shook himself. “I said I was hungry.” The words felt hollow.
Liana peeked around her mother’s skirts again. He smiled at her, and she returned the gesture. A dimple formed on her cheeks. Did Cassia have dimples? He glanced up to examine the cook’s graying dark hair and found her staring at him again, her eyes appearing frightened.
She visibly shook herself and bobbed her head. “There are some loaves coming out of the oven.”
“I think I want an apple.” Aclan didn’t take his gaze from the small girl.
“Certainly. Liana, get the prince an apple, please.”
The little girl ran to the pantry and came back with a single red apple in her hands.
Aclan crouched down so he was on eye level with her. “Thank you, Liana.”
The little girl smiled. Aclan closed his eyes. She was a smaller version of Cassia with his father’s eyes.
He stood and strode from the room. Hendrik followed. He tossed him the apple.
Hendrik tossed it back. “You eat it. You need to keep up your strength.”
Aclan didn’t argue. He had a sister he never knew, a niece who was being raised by the cook, his father no longer emerged from his chamber and a man he didn’t trust sat on his father’s throne. The world he’d known had crashed around him. He had a feeling nothing would ever be the same.
Chapter Sixteen
Flames licked at the darkening sky. It had taken him the rest of the day to find all the remains, but he was sure he had. It was the small ones that broke his heart anew. He’d cried more on this day than on any other in his memory. Soot coated his clothing, his skin, his lungs. But it was his heart, heavy and troubled, that bothered Mohan the most. Was he to blame for the slaughter? He had brought this tragedy to the Benai nation. Anger burned in his chest until it was raw. No. That blame fell solely on the shoulders of Bredych.
As he watched the flames soar into the heavens, he sang the ancient songs, his voice scratchy and without strength, but they were sung. His people would find peace. The fire began to falter, having consumed Mohan’s offering. He stood, too tired to move. His will was gone, as though it too was eaten by the flames. Something moved behind him. Mohan spun on the balls of his feet, drawing his sword.
A dog limped out of the forest near the clearing’s edge. Its dark gray coat was matted and wet in places. The dog paused several wheels away from Mohan. It whined once and wagged its shaggy tail. Mohan groaned. It was wounded, probably from the Rugian attack. He walked forward to put the mongrel out of its misery.
The dog looked up with dark, sad but hopeful eyes. Mohan slowly stretched out his hand. The dog whimpered softly and licked Mohan’s fingers.
“You’re the only one left.” Mohan’s voice broke. Where once there was laughter, family, there was only death. Ferka’s troupe had had some of the finest horsemen in the Benai nation. No horses remained. Mohan ran his hand down the dog’s side to his flank. He didn’t find any wounds. He repeated on the other side with growing hope. When he reached the hind leg, the dog yelped. No broken bones, no cuts, but the dog’s back leg had been hurt. Had he been thrown? Kicked? He ran his fingers over the dark fur. It wasn’t the dog’s blood that matted its fur.
Mohan smiled. “Rugian blood. You did your troupe proud.” With care, he picked up the dog and carried him toward the dying fire. “You can stay with me now. We have other troupes to warn.”
With the dog in his arms, he finished the songs of mourning and then raised his face to the stars. Tears fell down his cheeks and he prayed to the winds that he wouldn’t find his own troupe in such a condition.
* * *
The stars faded one by one. Ilythra gazed at the forest around her. Tree trunks stood out as dark columns against the early-morning gloom. It was eerily quiet. The soft thud of Melior’s hooves on the leaf-strewn ground was the only sound in the forest. Not unusual for this time of day but unnerving just the same. The stallion’s ears twitched. Leaves rustled to her left. She drew her sword, the sibilance of leather against steel loud in the quiet forest. A bird chirruped once and the silence returned.
She shifted in the saddle but didn’t resheath her sword. Her body ached, and bruises covered her left side, but she’d practiced with her sword in the predawn hours to work out some of the stiffness.
The sword Queen Marya had given her had sung as it moved through the air. It was a thing of beauty. Had the queen convinced her husband to prepare for Greton’s attack? She hoped so.
As she made her way toward the edge of the road, the hard-packed dirt gave no sign of recent passage. She studied its progression until the road was hidden by the trees. They would make better time on the well-trodden path, but chances were it was watched. If she and Melior kept to the forest, she might avoid the Rugians, but the slower pace could give them time to gather for a combined attack. Speed or stealth? Had the guard run back to Rugia or to warn his friends? The questions ran through her head over and over. She supposed a lot depended on the ruse she’d attempted by invoking the name of the Rugian goddess.
“Caution favors the wise.” She reined Melior back to make their way through the dim forest. She would journey parallel to the road and hope for the best.
The sun rose over the horizon, dappling the forest floor with long shadows, when she found an old deer trail heading in the right direction. It made the way easier but bramble still slapped at her legs. Formidable tree branches grew low over the path. She had to dismount and lead Melior several times or risk knocking her head against one. Tiny purple flowers grew in shallow basins along the side of the path like purple pools of water and lent their sweet fragrance to the gentle breeze. The occasional bird scolded her from the safety of its perch and once she startled a deer, but the walk was almost peaceful. Almost. If not for the constant fear of Rugian attack, she might have enjoyed it.
She sipped from her water skin. They’d crossed the plains between the castle and this forest, but she didn’t know how long the forest continued or what lay on the other side. What she wouldn’t give for a trader’s map of the area. She had no way of knowing how much progress they were making, but it wasn’t much. For that matter, she didn’t know how far they had to go.
At midday, she stopped to munch on one of the
oatcakes and let Melior drink from an icy stream. Voices sounded to her left on the road. Ilythra froze. Melior’s ears turned toward the noise. The sound of footsteps followed. If it was Rugians, they weren’t hiding their presence. Soon she recognized the banter of two men talking to one another. It was a friendly conversation about mundane things. She must be near a town of some kind.
Would the Rugians attack her where there might be witnesses? She debated it for a few moments and decided they wouldn’t. Someone might come and try to rescue her. A visit to town would suit two purposes. It might just draw them out where she could fight them and she could stop worrying about when they’d attack next, and what better place to get the lay of the land than a local tavern? She just hoped it turned out better than her trip to the castle at Elston had. She couldn’t count on being released from a prison cell twice.
* * *
Ilythra stopped Melior on the path when the first building came into view. The town was little more than a group of houses huddled around a clearing recently won from the encroaching forest. Light stippled the road as it traveled through the trees, and smoke poured into the gray sky from several chimneys. Somewhere ahead, a dog barked. When she approached, a man hoeing a plot of land on the outskirts of town looked up in alarm, shoulders tensed. He relaxed when he saw her and tipped his hat. Ilythra nodded her greeting. A few chickens scurried out of her way as she passed by.
From the man’s reaction, she guessed there’d been less friendly looking strangers around recently.
Continuing into the town, she passed two women with cloth-covered baskets. The taller one smiled and dropped her gaze, but the younger, smaller girl watched her until the older tapped her with an elbow.
A well stood at the center of the clearing. Structures, most obviously houses, were circled at a distance. She examined them. One building boasted a wide porch but no ornamentation of any kind, save two wooden chairs. It was larger than the other structures, and smoke poured out of a large chimney. It had to be the tavern. Possibly some kind of hostel too. She dismounted and led Melior toward a wooden post running horizontally across the porch. Loosely wrapping his reins around the post, she whispered that she’d be right back.
The interior of the building was dark, with only hazy light issuing from a high window on one wall. A bar took up one side of the room. Rough wooden tables lined the rest of the small space. A delicious smell wafted in through a door in the back. Her stomach rumbled.
“Hello,” she called.
A small, gray-haired woman emerged. When she saw Ilythra, she brushed a strand of hair away from her flushed but pleasant face. “Oh, hello. We don’t really open until supper,” she said, wiping her hand on a well-used apron.
Ilythra blinked. She’d never seen a tavern with a female barkeep. This woman was every bit as old as Maelys, if sturdier. She looked more like someone’s grandmother than a barkeep. Either this was the best-behaved town she’d ever seen or there was more to the woman than met the eye.
“Are you...?”
The woman’s smile lit up her blue eyes and deepened the creases on her face. Even so, the expression took years off her appearance. “Yup, this is my place. Don’t let looks deceive you. I’ve got three big sons.” She placed a hand on her trim waist. “Now, you don’t look like the drinking type. What can I do for you?”
Ilythra stood still for a moment. She’d prepared for everything except a matter-of-fact female. She decided to answer honesty with honesty. “I was attacked by a group of Rugians down the road. I have reason to believe there are more around—maybe in disguise, maybe not. Either way, they are very dangerous and I’d like to avoid running into any more if I can. Have you seen any strangers around here?”
“Besides yourself?” She leaned against the counter and studied Ilythra with shrewd eyes. After a moment, she answered, “Yes. There is a group of men who come in most every night. They don’t stay long. A tankard of ale and then they’re gone. Four of ‘em. Mean-looking bastards. But like I said, I got three big sons and a town of men who have my back if I need it.”
Ilythra nodded. Four Rugians. “Do they usually come in from the north or the south?”
The woman appeared to think for a moment. “I’d say the north.”
“And do you know what’s north of here?”
“A lot of trees,” she deadpanned. “After that, I’ve heard there’s open plain, but I’ve never journeyed that way myself and there aren’t any towns that way. At least none that I’ve heard of. It’s barren. Some say haunted.” Her eyes narrowed. “Most say haunted. You think those men are after you?”
Ilythra considered the woman and again decided on honesty. “I know they are.”
“You must have stepped on someone’s toes good and proper.” The woman humphed and moved around the bar to pour a small bit of liquid into two mugs.
“You could say that I have,” Ilythra agreed. She glanced out the door to check on Melior. The horse was nosing around the ground. Looking for something to eat, no doubt.
“Name’s Lyndi.” She handed Ilythra one of the mugs. “I still don’t think you’re a drinker, but you might just need this.” She downed the contents.
Ilythra followed suit. Fire bloomed in her throat and warmed her all the way to her stomach. She handed the mug back to Lyndi. “Thanks. I think you were right.”
“Always am.” She placed both mugs on the counter. “Look. I have a good instinct about people and you seem like a good sort, if it helps any. They come in around twilight. Tonight, I’ll give ’em one or two on the house. It’ll slow ’em down.”
Ilythra fished a coin from her purse and laid in on the counter. “I knew I liked you,” she said.
“Well, now,” Lyndi said, pocketing the coin. “I’ll make that three or four.”
* * *
Ilythra retrieved Melior then left the way she came. The fewer people who saw her, the better. She preferred not to ride through the town if she could avoid it. At the last house, she slipped off Melior and led the horse into the forest. The undergrowth wasn’t as dense near the town, and walking was easier. She circled the town, giving it a wide berth until it was well south of her. The sun sunk beneath the western horizon in a blaze of orange. If the barkeep was right, the Rugians would be heading to town. She hoped they followed their pattern and that Lyndi convinced them to linger a bit in the tavern.
When the first stars flickered to life, she directed Melior back onto the road. It was time to gamble that the Rugians followed their routine and that they were to the south of her by now. Every nerve strained for sounds in the surrounding forest. At any moment, she expected a Rugian to appear on the road or hear the sound of hoofbeats behind her. By the time the moon rose above the tree line, she relaxed. Well, at least she knew which direction the fourth Rugian of the last battle had gone. Back toward Elston. No one had warned these men to be on guard or they wouldn’t have left the road unmanned even for a few hours. The moon commanded the night sky, a silvery watchful orb. The sentry gazed down on Mohan somewhere as well. She closed her eyes. “Be safe, Mohan. Get to your troupe in time.”
Ilythra urged Melior into a slow gallop. That was two sets of Rugians. How many more had Bredych sent for her? And a more important question—how far apart were they? She didn’t want to stumble into the next set of guards while trying to escape the previous.
* * *
The sun rose in a blaze of glory. They were two days north of the small town and had made good time, stopping only for quick rests and then taking the road at a steady trot. Melior seemed eager to keep going even when Ilythra was nodding off in the saddle. Perhaps the horse had more stamina. She yawned. He definitely had more stamina. Her smaller injuries were healing well and the stiffness was gone from her muscles. The cut on her shoulder had begun to scab, but every moment still caused a deep stabbing pain.
Melior’s
ears stiffened and he slowed just as Ilythra heard a whistling sound in the air. Melior jerked out from under her. She hit the ground hard, jarring her ribs, but managed to tuck her body and roll to avoid being crushed by the heavy animal. At the edge of the road, she looked up. Melior lay on his side in the middle of the road. His legs were tangled in a rope weighted on two ends with large stones. He struggled to free himself, bellowing his anger. Spitting dirt and grit out of her mouth, she cursed.
They’d found the next set of Rugians.
Chapter Seventeen
Ilythra stood and drew her sword. Three Rugians stood between her and Melior, and she could hear the rustle of another in the woods behind her. She inched away from the side of the road. Each man carried a sword. Long, greasy hair fell around faces that revealed no emotion. Slowly they spread out, surrounding her. She circled, looking for an opening, keeping her sword extended to dissuade any attacker. She heard a footstep just before a heavy weight hit her from behind. She bent with the force instead of fighting it, reducing the impact. A Rugian flew over her head. She spun, leg extended, to knock another warrior down. A blow hit the side of her hip. Pain exploded from her hip down her legs.
She fell sideways into the dirt, rolled to her side and stabbed a foot with her knife. A Rugian grunted. A sizeable rock crashed into the road near her head, pelting her with dust and gravel. The Rugians were throwing rocks now? Ignoring the pain in her extremities, she scrambled to her feet again, stood and thrust with her sword, impaling the next man. Her lower back muscles screamed at the effort. She pulled her weapon free with a sucking sound and spun. The Rugian collapsed in a heap. She sliced another Rugian as he charged. His leather bloomed red. Three left, two of them wounded. They circled her, more wary now. She fought against the pain. If she showed weakness, it would be over. One stepped forward, swinging an ax. He charged. She ducked and spun, relying on instinct to guide her sword as much as training. His strike whistled over her head as she sliced him across his abdomen. Blood splattered onto the dirt road.
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