Authors: Kate Sparkes
Now,
I thought, expecting Ulric to make his move. He only accepted the reins and kept his eyes forward as though this were all part of his plan.
“It was the king’s men,” Patience said.
“Severn’s?” Ulric asked.
Patience raised her eyebrows. “Only king we’ve got. He found out that we were harboring fugitives. Guess he didn’t care for that much.” No accusation in her voice, but I felt her words like a knife to the heart. Patience squeezed her eye closed, and a tear trickled from between her whitish lashes. “Same ones that got us the first time, before we met you two. When that demon horse screamed and I saw the torches, I thought I was having a nightmare. They...” She shook her head, hard. “Mama’s dead. And Papa. And Frans. And—”
I squeezed Aren’s hand as the girl took a deep, shuddering breath. I wanted to reach out to her, and didn’t know how.
“I’m sorry, Patience,” Aren said, and I sensed that this was one of his rare, genuine apologies rather than an expression of condolence. “Your mother was a great woman, and wise. I only knew her briefly, but...” His voice trailed off.
What else was there to say? Without us, the Wanderers might have been left alone to make a new life somewhere. Because they’d given us shelter, Jein and her husband were dead, and Patience was a half-blind shadow of the girl she’d once been. They’d helped us, and Severn had made them pay for their disloyalty.
The Aren I’d met back in the autumn wouldn’t have cared, or wouldn’t have allowed himself to acknowledge it if he had. Not so now. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
During our time in prison, I’d become familiar with the strain of displeasure that showed around Ulric’s eyes as he listened to Patience’s story. He’d worn that expression while calculating escape plans and plotting his revenge on the people who held him captive. I remembered what Aren had told me about Ulric, that he was a bad father and a good king. It seemed he wouldn’t leave this debt unpaid when he took his throne back.
One more item in Severn’s ledger, written in blood-red ink. At least that was one thing we could all agree on.
We rode through a section of forest where the trees grew so close together that the horses had to pass through single-file, flecking their coats with sharp-scented pine sap. On the other side, an encampment of wooden huts came into view, nestled amongst shallow dips and hollows in the land. The village blended into the forest and stretched so far back into the trees that I couldn’t see where it ended. The buildings were cobbled together from a combination of wood, stone, and metal that might have been plucked from a garbage pile, but they looked sturdy enough. Peak-roofed canvas tents dotted the spaces between.
People walked about, talking and laughing. Light flashed from the only stone building in view, accompanied by the hammering sounds of a blacksmith’s shop. Several adults sparred with swords in a makeshift village square, dressed in simple leather armor and cheered on by a flock of small children. A chicken squawked, and an axe bit into wood. Somewhere nearby a baby cried, and a horse whinnied in the distance.
Patience’s lips set into a firm line as she took in the sight.
“Welcome to Rebel’s Glen.”
2
AREN
O
ver the course of my life, I’d used my power for many things. To keep secrets, to gain trust, to twist minds and challenge foes, and to defend those I learned to love. I overcame challenges that would have destroyed a lesser Sorcerer, fought my way past great dangers, and set a lost king free.
I thought I’d freed myself, as well, but all it had taken was a nod from my father to tell me I was back to following orders and being used for my family’s benefit. Our humiliating capture had left me with plenty of time to think things through, and I didn’t like any of the conclusions I reached.
“Dismount,” Jevan ordered as we entered the village. Ulric offered Cassia a hand to help her down, allowing her to ignore a less-appealing offer for assistance, then swung his leg over the horse and eased himself to the ground. The thief who had led their horse through the woods took it away, along with their bags. My father had recovered well from his prison ordeal, and from his unexpected collapse in the mountains after he used up the last great burst of the excess magic he and Rowan had gained after their escape. He looked none the worse for the day’s adventure.
I looked closer. He glanced around with narrowed eyes, but not an unpleasant expression. People were already gathering at a safe distance to look at us, and he nodded to those who offered a friendly expression or a warm smile. He looked as though he already ruled the place. He did, in theory, at least until time ran out for him to reclaim the throne that Severn was technically still only minding for him. I couldn’t remember exactly when he’d been declared missing, but it was in the summer. Time was running short.
So why are we here,
I wondered again,
instead of on our way to him reclaiming what’s his?
We both turned at the sound of Nox’s voice, grumbling and cussing out the apprehensive-looking young flagpole of a man who had claimed the horse she and Kel had been riding. I felt a sort of sympathy for the poor fellow as he ducked his head and fled under a near-physical barrage of muttered “Son of a—” and “Does your mother know you’re—” and “Worm-eating, pasty-skinned, arse-kissing—”
“Nox,” Ulric warned. She turned her glare on him, but quieted.
While he was distracted by her, I opened myself to him. He wasn’t using any magic, but its presence felt strong. At least that was reassuring. I’d wondered when he refused to use it whether he was weak, in spite of his physical recovery. I probed deeper. The magic would protect him from my skills, but if I could catch a glimpse of anything…
I caught only the faintest sense of his analytical interest in our surroundings before he turned to glare at me. I stopped prodding.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.
“Furthest thing from it.”
Ulric walked a few paces away, and the people watching took matching steps back. He didn’t seem to have any desire to speak with them, but had no fear of them, either. That fact should have made me feel more confident about our situation, but his actions that day were still all wrong.
We could have escaped. Had I been leading us, we’d have left the thieves bleeding into the dirt and been on our way before Patience showed herself. They deserved no better.
Patience, though. She was different. The girl now paced in slow circles around our little group, and I couldn’t tell whether she imagined herself to be containing us or warning off the others. I reached out to her, letting my magic take in what she held near the surface of her mind. Not prying—she would notice that, sharp as she was. But the girl had no magic that I could sense, and would be easy to read without digging too hard. Not as easy as a drunk or someone who was emotionally excited, but I would take what I could.
The air around the girl darkened, and the grief she carried with her wrenched at my gut. She hid the depths of it well. Just opening myself to a sense of it weighed me down so that I wondered how she found the strength to take each step as she circled us.
This was why I’d tried for so long to shield myself from my own emotions and to ignore them in others as best I could. Feeling meant pain, and showing pain meant showing weakness. Though she hid the worst of it, Patience still wore her broken heart like a heavy cloak wrapped tight around her. If she knew what was good for her, she’d turn it into armor. The weight of it was too much for someone so small to have to bear, but that fact hadn’t protected me when I was far younger than her.
Grief and loneliness don’t play by the rules of common decency.
Nox muttered again, and I turned. She stood with Kel, fingers entwined with his as he rested a hand on her waist—presumably to keep her from charging after the man who was walking across the camp with the bag containing her collection of magical herbs.
“Honestly,” she said. “It’s not as though anyone here will know what to do with them.”
Kel bit back a smile. “That’s your greatest concern? We’ve been taken prisoner by people who seem set on killing off your family, and you’re worried that someone will misuse your carefully preserved and curated collection of plants.”
“Yes.”
The smile broke over his face. “I do like you.”
Nox sighed and quirked an eyebrow at me as she nodded her head in Ulric’s direction. It was the same gesture she’d made back on the road, obviously wanting to communicate. Back there I’d caught her question—
What’s wrong with Ulric?
I wished I could answer. Even if I’d been free to use my magic to put my thoughts into her mind, and even if my doing so wouldn’t have frightened and disgusted her, I had no answer to give.
I stepped closer to them. “You really want to try that?” I asked. “Thus far you haven’t seemed too enthusiastic about me invading your thoughts.”
Nox frowned and brushed her black hair out of her face. The afternoon had grown warm, and strands stuck to her cheek, tracing the curve of a faint scar. “Not really. It’s unpleasant, and I’d prefer to never have anyone mucking about in there. But if it could help...” She shivered. “I’m willing to do what it takes.”
“Thank you. But you’re safe for now.”
“I wish you could promise that we all were,” Kel said, and glanced at our surroundings. “Not from you. From all of this.”
“I know. Try to be ready for anything.”
Nox reached for the dagger at her waist, then flinched as she remembered that it was gone. “I feel distinctly unprepared.”
“Ulric seems to think he has things under control.” I didn’t bother hiding the hint of irritation in my voice.
She scowled. “Very reassuring.”
Seeking our father had been an act of desperation on my part. I disliked the man, and had felt no sense of personal loss when he went missing years before. He’d ignored me through most of my childhood, passing me over in favor of more promising children. He’d allowed Severn to mold me, to use me, to turn me into a heartless monster in his own image. I wanted to have faith in my father, to trust that he would take his throne back and finally give me the respect I deserved and the freedom I desired, but things were never so simple in my family.
Nox’s lips disappeared into a tight line as she watched Ulric, who stood near Jevan—not speaking, not moving, not appearing at all concerned. Kel leaned in to whisper something to Nox, and she relaxed. She said something back, and he chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “It does help to find humor where we can, though. Sometimes it’s all that gets me through.”
Cassia came closer, joined by Rowan. “I’m afraid I don’t see anything amusing here,” Cassia said.
“You’re just not looking hard enough,” Kel answered, and gave his sister a forced smile. “We’ll get through this. You’ll be home soon.”
Her lips tightened. “We’ll see.”
Cassia and Kel had been invaluable in saving Ulric and Rowan, but the journey had taken a toll on them. Though Nox was able to treat the cough that came with a mer spending too much time on land, Cassia lost more of her energy and her usual shine every day. If Kel still had his, I suspected it was only because he had Nox to keep him interested in life on land.
“What are you thinking, Aren?” Rowan asked. She’d been taking everything in as we entered the strange village, and though she had to be as uncertain as any of us, she didn’t show it. Quite the change from the first time I’d seen her abducted.
“I just want to know where we stand,” I replied, aiming for a reassuring tone that did nothing to settle my own nerves.
Jevan stepped into our circle. “You’ll know soon enough. Who speaks for your group?”
Before I could answer, Ulric spoke up. “I do.” He gave me a warning look, as though he knew I’d been about to speak.
Rowan looked from him to me, eyes narrowed.
He’s the rightful king,
I reminded myself,
and my father.
He had every right to take command. It rankled me, though. I had no desire for his position, but I’d led this group for longer than he had, and no one had asked him to take over.
Get through until he’s back in Luid and Severn’s gone, and then leave all of this behind.
The thought calmed me. I could suffer his insults, his contempt, even his attempts to control me until then. As long as the end was in sight—an end that, Goddess and gods willing, would involve me and Rowan leaving my family behind forever—I could make it through. He wouldn’t control me or change me.
We all followed Jevan to a hut slightly larger than the rest. A pair of burly men stopped us outside the door.
“What’s this, Jev?” asked the one on the left, a bald man with a deep scar cut across his right cheek and over his nose. His fingers played over the hilt of a sword that was little better than a clumsy iron rod. Dangerous enough in the hands of a fellow as big as this, but if that was the best these people could offer their guards, they might not pose as much of a threat as I’d anticipated.
Jevan removed his cap and brushed thinning hair away from his forehead. “Visitors,” he said. “Patience thought Laelana and Goff should see them.”
The other guard snorted. “Ye’re gonna get it.” His left eye looked toward us, moving independent of the right. “Or they are.”
When the cockeyed guard stepped into the building, I leaned closer to Ulric. “You’re going in there?”
“It would seem so,” he said, quite calmly.
“Why? We could be gone already. We could have escaped back on the road, and no doubt should have.”
He frowned but said nothing, as though my concerns meant nothing to him.
You will take me seriously,
I thought, but held my tongue. He needed me, needed all of us. If this was the price I’d have to pay to get my brother off the throne, so be it. I’d suffered worse indignities than a king’s dismissal.
The guard returned and motioned for Ulric to enter. “You and one other. The rest stay outside.”