Daybreak

by Shae Ford

  Each time she managed to drift off, the sharp noise of Aerilyn’s sniffling jolted her awake.

  “What in Kingdom’s name are you whimpering about?” Elena growled.

  “I’m not whimpering,” Aerilyn said thickly from beside her. “I miss them. I miss them so much I can hardly stand it.”

  “Who?”

  “Lysander and Dante. I’m worried sick over them.”

  Had she not been so exhausted, Elena might’ve fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Your husband is off squabbling over coin in Harborville. The only thing he’s likely to die of is boredom. And I’m sure the child is fine.”

  “How could you possibly be sure?” she huffed. “What if he’s hungry?”

  “He has a whole village of nurses looking after him — and you left him in the care of a giantess. You’ll be lucky if he fits in his crib once she’s done with him.”

  “Well, what if he’s ill?”

  “Then I’m sure the Uncle will send his ships out in every direction to get what he needs. He’ll empty his coffers, if he has to.”

  “But what if he misses me?” Aerilyn took in a shuddering breath. “What if he … forgets me?”

  “He’s an infant,” Elena said evenly. “He can’t even remember if his napkin’s on or not, let alone who his mother is. The important thing is that you’re alive. You mean to return. You’ll be back before he even starts to care.”

  She rolled away from Aerilyn, glaring against the things that swarmed inside her chest. The merchant’s daughter had no idea how bitter life could be. Not all infants were cared for. Not all were loved. There were some who grew up without their mothers.

  And at least one had taken a mother who tried to slip a dagger between her ribs.

  She slept little that night. At dawn, they saddled Braver and set out again. They were only a few days from Lakeshore, now. The trails Elena followed were as familiar to her as the soles of her boots. While Braver plodded along, she thought carefully about what she would do to Countess D’Mere — or at least, she tried to.

  “What’s rattling back there?” she snapped, when the noise broke her concentration.

  For some reason, Aerilyn wore two quivers: the one that hung from her belt contained plain arrows, while the arrows on her back had fletching that was bright red. Combined with the bulk of her bow, she was a constant, rattling mess — and today’s rattling was more obnoxious than usual.

  “We’ve been riding for ages. My whole bottom half is numb. I simply adjusted my quivers a bit to keep the rest of me from aching.”

  “Why do you even need those things?”

  Aerilyn paused. “Well, I brought one along to hunt with. But since you refuse to let me off this blasted animal until nightfall, I haven’t been able to use it.”

  Elena doubted she could use it. “What about the other one?”

  “This one is for … trouble,” she said, tugging on the strap across her chest.

  “What sort of trouble?”

  “The sort we need to end quickly. Jake enchanted it for me, if that tells you anything.”

  A strange numbness filled Elena’s limbs, swelling in the echo of his name. All the edges of her mind fled backwards. They sunk down to her memories and pooled, leaving her mind without its strength.

  “Elena?”

  She blinked the memories back when Aerilyn grabbed her shoulders. Her lungs gasped as if she’d just woken from a nightmare. She still wasn’t entirely sure if she stood in the real world, or the realm of dreams.

  “Don’t touch me,” she snapped, shrugging Aerilyn away.

  “You were tipping over! You nearly fell off. If I hadn’t grabbed you —”

  “Don’t touch me.”

  Elena punched out every word, careful to give them each their own bite. Things were frightening enough as it was. She didn’t need Aerilyn pawing at her the rest of the way to Lakeshore. What she needed was a distraction — a taste of blood to bring her focus back.

  Their numbers weren’t overwhelming quite yet. The Countess’s agents could do with some thinning.

  Braver snorted when she pulled him to a halt. “All right, I think we’ve gone far enough for one day.”

  Aerilyn’s brows arched high. “We have? But it’s hardly afternoon.”

  “You were just complaining about being in the saddle. Now you don’t have to be.” Elena slid down and held out her hands. “Let’s move, lady merchant.”

  Aerilyn glowered at her. “I thought you didn’t want me touching you.”

  Elena moved her hands to Braver’s straps. “You can climb down on your own, or you can fall off with the saddle. It’s entirely up to you.”

  Aerilyn swung her leg around and dismounted on the other side — but not before she’d shot Elena an icy glare.

  She hardly noticed. Aerilyn’s look wasn’t nearly as potent as her mother’s.

  “Well, if we’re stopping for the day, then I’m going on a hunt. I’m sick of dried meat and stale biscuits.”

  Elena shrugged, careful to keep her eyes away. “I couldn’t care less what you do, lady merchant.”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “Then stop behaving like every little inconvenience marks the end of your perfect world.”

  Aerilyn spun around mid-stomp and cried: “I never liked you, Elena —”

  “I’m shocked.”

  “— but I loved you for Jake. I was prepared to ignore how horrible you are because you made him happy. But now you’ve broken his heart and chased him away, and no matter what I do, you insist on being horrid.” She un-slung her bow and leveled its blunt end at Elena’s face. “I’ve been traveling these roads since I was a child. I know how to get to Lakeshore. I don’t need your help, and I certainly don’t need your blades.”

  Elena flung the saddle onto the ground — or rather, she told herself that she had. The truth was that her limbs had gone so numb she thought she might’ve simply dropped it. “Then why did you beg me to come with you, if I’m such a horrible person?”

  “I asked because I thought … I hoped I could change your mind about Jake.” Aerilyn’s mouth wavered, but her chin jutted out defiantly. “I know what it’s like to be uncertain about love. I was uncertain about Lysander, at first. But then a very dear friend showed me the truth — he showed me all the goodness behind the pirate, and I’ve felt silly every day since for thumbing my nose at him in the first place.

  “It seems obvious now, but there was a time when I wasn’t sure. Had my dear friend not pushed me, I don’t know that I would’ve ever seen it.” She lowered her bow, but her chin stayed sharp. “I’d hoped to be that friend for you, Elena. But now I’ve changed my mind — I don’t want you to see the good in Jake. I don’t want you to believe, even for a moment, that you deserve him.”

  She’d gone to stomp away when Elena thought of something. “Aerilyn — wait.”

  “What?”

  “If you insist on playing hunter,” she held out the reins, “why don’t you make yourself useful and find Braver something to drink?”

  She snatched the reins and stormed away. As she led him into the thicket, Elena could hear her ranting to the poor horse about all the many flaws of his mistress.

  While they marched off, Elena got ready. Her fingers slid down her bandolier of throwing knives, dragging across each of the seven hilts. Slight and Shadow were strapped to her upper arms. Their smooth, blackened pommels reassured her as she touched them. They calmed her nerves and chased the numbness back — bringing her limbs alive with her mind’s strength.

  If she closed her eyes, she could hear them better: the many pairs of footsteps heading her way. They moved fractions at a time, careful not to stir a single twig or leaf. But their silence gave them away.

  Elena could feel the pressure of their focus upon her chest, her back — against the thick vein beneath her throat. They might as well have lunged for her, the way their eyes grabbed. But though they ringed the entire clearing, her heart kept a
calm, steady beat.

  “All right, gentlemen,” she called into the trees. “Let’s get this over with.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The Merchant’s Daughter

  Aerilyn’s mood didn’t improve.

  She’d finally lost her temper. After days of putting up with Elena’s constant grumping and snide remarks, she found she could no longer hold it in — and the moment she’d dragged Braver into the woods, the words came spilling out.

  “I can’t believe her! No one could possibly be so horrid — a witch would’ve blushed at the things she’s said. What Jake could ever see in such a woman is completely beyond me.”

  Beside her, Braver watched with his large, brown-eyed stare.

  Aerilyn frowned at him. “You’re decent enough, for a horse. What do you see in her, then?” she asked as she led him to the edge of a trickling stream. “What isn’t she telling me?”

  Braver dipped his mouth into the waters, grasping at them with his lips. Aerilyn watched for a moment. She brushed the dirt from the short hairs on his neck, and found the warmth beneath his skin to be rather soothing.

  In any case, it reminded her that there were more important things to worry about.

  “I suppose it doesn’t matter,” she said, thinking. “We’ll be at Lakeshore in a few days’ time. Once I’ve convinced the Countess to speak to the King on our behalf, the seas will be saved. And we can put all this behind … behind …”

  No, it wasn’t any good. Her worries had been building up, pressing against the back of her eyes. She’d managed to keep them pinned behind a wall of other things — other worries that she’d convinced herself were far more important. But now that Elena wasn’t around to attack her for it, she found she had no defense.

  “I don’t know what to do! What am I going to do? I’ve got no chance at all. I can’t stop the King. There’s going to be a war …”

  Aerilyn pressed the hem of her tunic against her eyes, hoping it would staunch the flow of tears. But it didn’t. There were too many of them, each one was too full. They would spill out until they’d run their course.

  Nobody would listen to her. Everyone she’d spoken to was convinced that the trouble in the seas was nothing more than a merchant’s squabble, that the election of a new high chancellor would solve everything. They seemed to think that Chaucer had simply run away, or that the council had quietly deposed him.

  Nobody believed the rumor that the heads of Midlan’s soldiers had been stuffed into a bag, or that the servants had seen the castle guards dumping their corpses off the bridge — the council swore that the King’s envoy had left of their own accord. Nobody believed the Countess had anything at all to do with it.

  But Aerilyn knew very well what D’Mere was capable of … and she didn’t doubt it for a moment.

  Still, Lysander couldn’t be convinced. He thought all of their problems ended with the council’s bickering. Even Thelred didn’t believe her — and he’d blasted well seen D’Mere at the castle! He’d heard how she threatened them.

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” he’d snapped at her. “She’s stood by Crevan all this time. He’s got every last shred of power. Why in Kingdom’s name would she suddenly turn against him?”

  Aerilyn hadn’t been able to answer them, and so they’d sailed off: Thelred to the chancellor’s castle, and Lysander to Harborville — leaving her with no choice but to turn to Elena.

  As miserable as that forest woman made the air around her, Aerilyn needed her help. She had to reach Lakeshore alive … and Elena was her best chance.

  Braver stood patiently while Aerilyn crumpled down beside him. His ears twitched at the noise of her sobs before he bent to nibble at the tufts of grass near her boots.

  It was strange, but having a good cry about something always seemed to clear her mind — like the sunlight after a rain. She didn’t know why she put it off, why she sat around in the haze. For it was in the moments she felt the lowest that she heard her father’s voice:

  Dry those tears, my darling. Feeling sorry for yourself doesn’t help anybody else — and there are plenty of people who deserve to cry more than you.

  Aerilyn’s chest shuddered as she took a deep breath; the bottom of her tunic was positively soaked from her tears. But she knew her father was right — he’d always been right. There were women in the Kingdom who’d lost their children and husbands, who would never have the chance to see them again.

  Aerilyn was apart from those she loved, yes. But she hadn’t lost anything. In fact, she had a chance to save everything. If she couldn’t convince the Countess to help the seas, there would be more death, more tears. She had no choice but to save it.

  But she would need Elena’s help.

  Braver seemed to be enjoying himself, so rather than dragging him back through the thicket, she hung his reins upon a tree. “I’ll be back in a moment. Try to stay out of trouble, will you?”

  The grass at his nose flattened against his snort.

  The undergrowth was horribly spiny. She supposed she hadn’t noticed it before because she’d been so furious. But now she had to pick her way through briar and thorn, lifting her boots to her knees in some places just to inch across.

  Her quivers kept getting snagged, her bow kept lodging its end into every tangle of roots she passed. Aerilyn finally slung the blasted thing from her shoulder and held it above her head. She was a half-dozen paces from the clearing when she heard the noise of someone screaming.

  It was a man: he shrieked as if he’d just been badly hurt, and the terror in his voice made Aerilyn take a lurching step forward. But at the last moment, she forced herself to stop.

  You don’t know what’s on the other side of those shrubs, she thought, trying to stay calm even as the screams grew more desperate. Take a good look before you jump out into the open.

  Slowly, she crouched and slid forward, clenching her teeth against the screams. There were other, fainter sounds coming from the clearing: grunts and thuds, and the clanging of steel.

  When Aerilyn found a hole to watch through, she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping at what she saw.

  It was Elena — Elena against a horde of men. They swarmed so closely around her that Aerilyn could only catch a few glimpses here and there: the fall of her black daggers, the spray of red behind them; the armored heel of her boot thrust from the swarm, knocking one of the men to the ground with a yelp.

  Elena slid among her attackers like a shadow, moving so fluidly that she seemed to be doing nothing more than whipping her hands past them or tapping her fists against their throats. Yet, their bodies fell at an alarming rate.

  In the few moments Aerilyn watched, the horde thinned considerably. Men would come charging into the center and a half-second later, stumble straight out the other side — a desperate grip on their spurting throats. She caught a full look at Elena’s body when she rolled herself over a man’s shoulder … and flinched when three arrows thudded into his chest.

  Elena held the man’s body up like a shield as she charged towards the place where the arrows had come from. The horde followed close behind her — but not closely enough to save the archers.

  The man who screamed now crouched alone where the circle had been. He clutched a bloodied hand to his chest and shrieked at the little objects scattered across the ground around him.

  Aerilyn hoped they weren’t fingers. Oh, she hoped to the seas that they weren’t fingers. But when the man raised his hand out before him and she saw that all but his thumb was missing, she knew that was precisely what they were.

  His eyes were crazed and white around their edges. As he leapt to his feet and came charging towards her, Aerilyn saw the crest emblazoned upon his tunic. Even through the blood, she could make out the twisted oak tree of the Grandforest — the mark of Countess D’Mere.

  These men must be her agents. But then why were they attacking Elena? She’d thought … no, she’d been certain …

  A hollow thud
broke Aerilyn from her shock. One of the black daggers dropped the wounded man mere paces from the clearing’s edge, buried to its hilt inside his back. Elena cut through what little remained of the horde and stepped across their bodies — not so much as a drop of red upon her armor.

  She’d reached the middle of the clearing when a noise stopped her short.

  An archer stepped out of the bushes on her left. His bow was drawn, his hand steady. One of his eyes was already locked upon Elena’s chest.

  Even from a distance, Aerilyn heard her heavy sigh. Elena looked at the archer as if he’d just said something stupid — no more concerned with his arrow than a slight hurled from across the room. Her hand went to her bandolier and Aerilyn flinched, expecting a dagger to go bursting through the archer’s chest at any moment. But it didn’t.

  For some reason, Elena wasn’t moving — not even when the archer tugged his arrow back its full length did she flinch. The dark brows above her mask, usually so sharp and taut, fell slack. Her hand dropped from her chest and the black dagger she carried fell from the other.

  The arrow flew.

  Elena stood still.

  Aerilyn felt a scream tear from her throat. She watched in horror as Elena fell to her knees — gaping at the arrow that hung from her chest.

  The archer laughed. He flung his bow aside and drew the dagger from his belt. “The Countess wants you skinned alive. She wants your hide for her floors. Where should I start, eh? At the ankles … or the wrists?”

  Something fierce came over Aerilyn. She watched that archer stalk towards Elena and didn’t remember even getting to her feet. She was vaguely aware of the fletching beneath her chin, and just remembered to brace herself for the blast.

  Still, when the arrow struck and the archer’s body exploded, the force knocked her off her feet.

  “Elena?” Her ears rang so badly that she couldn’t hear if she’d actually said her name — perhaps she’d only thought it. The ringing made her head spin too terribly to concentrate. She knew better than to fire at such close range. A normal arrow would’ve done her just as well.