by Jordan Rivet
“It’s all right. I get it. Look, four of us know who she really is. You, me, Banner, and my brother. We’ll look out for her. Besides, any attackers would kill me first.”
“That’s no good either,” Caleb said. “I’d never forgive myself if you were hurt. Either of you.” His voice became heated. “My uncle almost killed her already, and I had no idea.”
“You couldn’t have done anything.” Mica wanted to reach out and touch him, even just to rest a hand on his arm, but there were too many people around. “Are you still mad at us?”
“No.” Caleb sighed. “But Jessamyn needs help, Mica. She shouldn’t be playing this game alone.”
“I agree,” Mica said. “I’ve been trying to talk her into revealing what happened.”
“Have you thought of quitting? Your presence is enabling her. If you could influence her to—”
“I’m her servant, not her friend.”
“You know that’s not completely true,” Caleb said. “You care about each other. And she trusts you. Otherwise, she would never let you speak for her so often.”
Mica recalled the brief moment the night before when it had occurred to her that she could take over as Jessamyn in truth. She had been making decisions without consulting the real princess more and more often. But the arrangement had to end eventually. And Jessamyn was her friend.
“I intend to keep her trust,” Mica said. “Anyway, this is getting me closer to Lord Ober. I want to find the barren fortress where he’s hurting Talents.”
Caleb looked up, a bright spark of inquisitiveness igniting in his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about that too! I have a theory based on what Haddell—wait, I’ve been talking to you about that all along, haven’t I?” He rubbed a hand through his wind-tousled hair. “It feels like we have a lot of catching up to do, but I guess that isn’t true.”
“We have gone over a bunch of theories together already,” Mica said. “But I’ve missed talking to you. As myself, I mean.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
A profound sense of relief and wellbeing was flooding through Mica as she talked honestly with Caleb for the first time in months. It was a little like coming home.
Just then, Jessamyn turned in her saddle. Her veil hid her expression, but Mica got the sense that she didn’t approve of Mica and Caleb leaning in close to whisper to each other, regardless of which face she wore. The princess was too far ahead to hear their conversation, but Mica lowered her voice anyway.
“If you leave to search for Ober, I want to go with you,” Mica said. “We can find the barren fortress together.”
Caleb met her gaze, and she swore his eyes darted to her mouth for a moment. Her heart gave an unruly tremor.
“I would love your help,” he said. “But I can’t just take you away. Jessamyn needs you, maybe in different ways than she thinks.”
They looked up at Jessamyn in unison. She faced forward again, sitting her horse like royalty, despite her disfigured face and simple clothes. It still amazed Mica that no one had noticed the new cultural advisor’s resemblance to the princess.
“Jessamyn wants to stop Ober too,” Mica said, “but she and the emperor are more worried about the unrest in the Twins. Even after what Ober did to her, she thinks he’s not the biggest threat right now.”
“And you disagree?”
“I do. Imagine what would happen if Ober perfected his potion and gave it to our enemies. In the long run, the ability to create unstoppable Talents is a greater threat than any single enemy—and that’s not even taking his methods into account.” She clutched her reins tight, her voice becoming fierce. “We have to make Ober pay for what he’s done.”
“There’s the Mica I know.” Caleb grinned, and this time she was sure he looked at her mouth. “I missed having you around.”
Mica flushed, but before she could answer, Lord Aren interrupted them with a shout.
“Hurry, friends!” He had crested the ridge ahead, and he stood out sharp against the rolling, grayish clouds. “You have to see this view. Princess, won’t you join me?”
Caleb touched Mica’s hand briefly. “Can we talk later? Just you and me?”
Mica turned her eye color from brown to hazel in a Mimic’s wink, and she was rewarded with a broad smile. Then she spurred her horse forward, galloping up the ridge to join the other lord.
She was the first to reach the top of the hill where Aren waited. The wind was stronger here, and his long ponytail streamed behind him, making him look rather magnificent. He grinned at her as she joined him and swept his arms wide.
“Welcome to Narrow Vale.”
Below the ridge spread a breathtaking valley. A thin silver river sliced through the center, and trees clambered in close to the banks on both sides. Mountains rose on the horizon, purple and indigo beneath the cloudy sky. The clouds had begun to look ominous and heavy. A blurry shimmer suggested rain was already falling on the distant mountains.
“It’s beautiful,” Mica said.
“Not as beautiful as you are.”
She looked up at Lord Aren in surprise. She felt elated after talking with Caleb as herself again. All she wanted was to ride at his side and speak to him in her own voice, so it took her a minute to respond to the other man with Jessamyn’s cadence.
“My lord, you are ever so sweet,” Mica said. “I . . . That is . . .”
“I’ve never known you to be rattled.” Aren sounded pleased that he had elicited such a response. “You never cease to surprise me.”
Mica glanced back at the others, wishing they’d hurry up. Wendel appeared to be slowing down deliberately to give her cousin and the princess a moment of privacy. The real Jessamyn watched them closely over her veil. Mica wished the princess had given her more explicit instructions regarding Lord Aren. He certainly seemed interested in her. Was she supposed to encourage him or not?
Then Mica’s eyes fell on Caleb, and her heart beat at Blur speed in her chest. Jessamyn deserved a chance to be as happy as Mica was when she looked at him. The princess hadn’t explicitly told her not to encourage Aren if he attempted to woo her.
Besides, if Jessamyn marries Lord Aren, she can’t marry Caleb.
Mica summoned her most attractive smile and batted her eyelashes at Lord Aren. “I think you’ll find I have even more surprises in store, my lord.”
This time Aren was the one who looked flustered. His stallion pranced beneath him, betraying the effect the smile had on him.
The rest of their party soon joined them on the ridge, where they spent a few minutes exclaiming over the splendor of Narrow Vale. Lord Aren stayed close beside Mica, clearly more enthralled by her—or Jessamyn’s—beauty than that of the landscape. She encouraged him with smiles and sultry looks. She hoped she hadn’t guessed wrong about the princess’s feelings for the robust Pegasus lord, or she might lose her head after all.
They rode into the valley and picnicked beside the river. The servants brought out mutton sandwiches and a barrel of ale and spread wool blankets on the ground so the nobles wouldn’t get mud on their fine riding clothes. The servants themselves, Jessamyn included, sat on rocks a little way off, jumping to assist whenever someone called on them.
“You may be used to finer things,” Lord Aren said as he passed Mica a tankard of ale. “But we Pegasus folk know how to have a picnic.”
They lingered in the vale after they ate their fill of mutton sandwiches. Caleb stretched out on a blanket to take a quick nap, warning Stievson to wake him if they needed to fight off any kidnappers. Mica had to keep pulling her gaze away from his peaceful, sleeping face and reminding herself to pay attention to Lord Aren.
He and Wendel shared stories about their childhood in Pegasus, most of which seemed to involve their friends falling off horses and their mothers shouting at them for leaving wool coats out in the rain. Jessamyn listened with a sort of appalled fascination to his tales of a rough-and-tumble childhood hardly becoming of a noble lord.
They were in no hurry to end the idyllic picnic, but dark clouds were amassing above the mountains, and the guards kept looking at the sky and murmuring about getting back to Carrow before the storm broke. Aren had become almost giddy as Mica turned the full force of Jessamyn’s charm on him, and he declared that no storm would deter him. He insisted on drawing them further into the vale.
“You must see the waterfall, Princess,” he said as they mounted their horses and prepared to traverse the rocky ground beside the river. “You won’t find another like it anywhere else in the empire.”
But even Lord Aren’s enthusiasm couldn’t keep the storm at bay for good. The clouds broke open with a sudden, intense fury. Rain rolled over the valley in a wild rush, drenching them in a matter of seconds.
“It will pass soon,” Aren called through the gusting wind. “Come, we are almost there.”
Despite their guide’s zeal, everyone else grew increasingly uncomfortable. Their damp clothes chafed their skin, and soreness from the long ride spread through their muscles. The horses tossed their heads and snorted nervously as thunder and lightning joined the rain.
“I told you not to bring us out this far,” Lady Wendel grumbled to her cousin when almost an hour had passed with no sign of the waterfall. “This was supposed to be a pleasant ride through the country.”
“I’m not afraid of any storm,” Aren said. “You have grown soft in the capital, cousin.”
But the storm was intensifying rapidly. The rain pelted down on them, and the wind whipped at their clothes and tugged on their hair. Wendel was mortified that her cousin had brought the princess out in such unpleasant conditions.
“He meant well,” she said frantically. “We will find shelter soon.”
“It’s all right, Wendel,” Mica said. She glanced at Jessamyn, who was looking grumpy and bedraggled, and suppressed a grin. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”
“But it’s winter!” Wendel said through chattering teeth. “You’ll catch cold.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” Mica said. “I’m wearing a Pegasus wool cloak. You’re the one who looks cold.”
Wendel rubbed her crooked nose, which had gone a little blue. “I didn’t expect to be out this long.”
Just then, Emir reined in on her other side. He removed his oiled uniform jacket with quick hands and held it out to Wendel.
“Take my coat, my lady.”
“Oh! Thank you, soldier.” Wendel looked at Mica’s brother as if she had never seen him before, even though he had been with them since Jewel Harbor. Since she was a noblewoman, it was possible she really hadn’t noticed him. But she smiled appreciatively as he helped her wrap the jacket around her shoulders.
For her part, Mica was enjoying the riotous rush of the storm after so long spent wrapped up in silk inside the Silver Palace. She was glad of the wind in her face and the rain in her hair. She caught Caleb’s eye and grinned, making her features stretch out of proportion for a brief second. He laughed, and her whole body filled with warmth. She had missed that laugh.
“I think I see the waterfall!” one of the Shield guards called out.
“It’s about time,” Jessamyn hissed, glaring daggers at Lord Aren’s back. “This excursion was a ridiculous idea.”
They rode closer to the river, which flowed about five feet below the rocky bank, and the waterfall came into view at last, spilling over a tall cliff and crashing into rapids below. The roar of cascading water was loud enough to drown out the thunder. Mica had never seen a waterfall as large and wild as this.
They dismounted on the bank above the rapids, close enough to feel the spray on their faces.
“We came all the way out here for this?” Jessamyn muttered. “Honestly.”
“I thought you liked pretty things,” Mica said.
“Pretty indoor things.”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little water.”
Jessamyn spluttered incoherently, and Mica winked at her.
“I’d like a closer look.” Mica handed her horse over to a servant and approached the bottom of the falls. Her clothes were soaked anyway, and she wanted to get a little nearer to that tremendous cascade.
“Take care, Princess,” Aren called. “The rocks are slippery here.”
“I have excellent balance.”
“Let me come with you at least.”
Aren followed Mica’s lead as she picked her way to the ledge beneath the thunderous falls. The rest of the party waited by the rapids with the horses, giving them a little space. Even Jessamyn didn’t try to join them.
Mica edged along the ledge and looked up through the shimmering curtain of water. Large droplets fell on her cheeks, running down her face and neck, mingling with the rain. The incredible power of the falls filled her with awe. The storm clouds blocked out much of the light, and she imagined this vale must be even more beautiful on a sunny day.
“Sometimes you can see a rainbow here,” Lord Aren said, joining her on the slick ledge. “I’ll show you next time you visit me.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, my lord,” Mica said, the coy, Jessamyn-like tone coming naturally now. “What makes you think I’ll do that?”
“Because you want to see me.”
“My lord!”
“I’ve thought of you often since your last visit, my princess.” Lord Aren stepped closer, his gaze steady on her face. “Don’t you think about me, away in your Silver Palace?”
Mica looked up at him through Jessamyn’s thick eyelashes, which were damp and glistening. “And if I do?”
“I don’t wish to play games.”
“Games, my lord? I don’t know what you’re—”
“Please, Jessamyn. I would speak plainly.” He took another step toward her. “You have become a fine woman. I can’t stand the idea that you’re to sail away from me so soon.”
Mica blushed at the fervency in his tone. Lord Aren’s ardor was unlike anything she’d experienced from Dolan, Riven, and the other lords who had tried to claim Jessamyn’s favor.
This man would be great for the princess. Mica saw it clearly. His admiration and respect were sincere, a priceless quality among the nobility. He was enchanted by Jessamyn but not intimidated. He teased her, while treating her with consideration, and they had been friendly in their youth. Most important of all, Jessamyn seemed infuriated and captivated by him in return.
She needs this kind of person in her life.
The least Mica could do was help them along.
She turned away from Aren, pretending to be shy, and undid her braid, allowing her long red hair to cascade down her back and frame her pretty face. She cast an alluring gaze over her shoulder, one she had seen Jessamyn deploy to great effect. Lord Aren cleared his throat, and Mica grinned internally. The princess was going to be so mad at her.
“What precisely do you want, my lord?”
For a moment, Aren looked as if he would sweep her into his arms in front of everyone—Caleb and Jessamyn included. Instead he took her hand and kissed it, first on the back then on the palm.
“I want to make you happy, Jessamyn. If you’ll let me.”
Mica’s stomach stirred uncomfortably. The gesture felt too intimate somehow, more intimate than a dramatic smooch.
“And if I want that too?” she said softly. “What then?”
Before Aren could respond, there was an especially loud clap of thunder, followed by a flurry of movement. Several horses in their group spooked, surging in different directions.
Then someone screamed.
Mica and Aren spun around, feet sliding on the ledge, in time to see the real Jessamyn stumbling back from the spooked horses. Her back foot slipped, and she teetered, her veil whipping in the wind. Then she fell into the rapids with a terrible splash.
Chapter Twelve
Caleb was the first to act, lunging fo
rward to grab the princess as she fell. But he was still lethargic, and his Blur speed didn’t appear. Jessamyn’s hand slipped out of his reach as she tumbled into the swift current.
The princess plunged beneath the water then resurfaced, gasping and spluttering, getting farther away by the second. The rough torrent slammed her against the rocks, ignoring her efforts to grab hold of something. A shout escaped Mica’s lips, though whether it was in her own voice or another’s, she couldn’t say.
“Someone help her!”
She sensed movement beside her, then another splash drowned out the cries. Lord Aren had leapt off the ledge and into the river. He swam after the struggling woman, his powerful arms and legs churning. But the distance between them was already too big.
The princess screamed as the water tried to swallow her whole. She tumbled over boulders, losing her cap and veil to the rapids. Mica’s chest heaved, as if she were drowning too. For a moment, Jessamyn’s features slipped off her face, but the others were too horrified by Myn’s plight to notice.
Suddenly, Emir reappeared among them. He had been scouting their perimeter, but he took in the situation in a heartbeat. He blurred into motion, rushing downriver and out of sight.
As the current carried Jessamyn and Aren rapidly downriver, Mica and the others ran after them along the slippery riverbank.
The water is too fast. We can’t catch up.
Caleb charged alongside her, moving no faster than a normal man, a look of grim frustration on his face. He’d warned Mica that his powers didn’t always turn up when he needed them. Now she knew why that haunted him.
I wish I were a Blur, she thought desperately as she raced through the mud, her feet slipping and sliding, furious that she didn’t have the supernatural speed or strength to help her friend.
But Lord Aren, who had no Talents at all, was closing the distance between him and Jessamyn, deftly avoiding the most dangerous rapids as he powered through the raging river. His long hair streamed behind him, flowing like a black snake in the foam.
With a mighty surge, he reached the princess and scooped her up in his arms. Jessamyn curled into him like a half-drowned kitten, her short red hair visible against his dark chest. He held her to him with one hand and used the other to protect them both from the rocks.
