Vrell pulled her knees up to her chest and took a bite of her last fig. Khai was implying that Jax was bloodvoicing someone. She realized she shouldn’t be surprised. She had seen Mother do it before, but never with her eyes open.
Why had Mother not tried to bloodvoice her in so long? Was she in danger? Surely she hadn’t forgotten her own daughter. Lady Coraline would not have arrived in Carmine yet. That journey would take at least a week. When she did arrive, Mother would certainly contact Vrell to let her know. Right?
Vrell sucked in a sharp breath. What if her avid focus to close her mind to the knights had blocked out Mother? That seemed a logical answer to Mother’s lack of communication. There had to be a way to connect with one person and block out the rest, but Vrell had no idea how. Dare she risk asking Jax?
When they had finished eating, Jax ordered Vrell and Khai to ready the horses. Vrell obeyed, though she was so tired she was certain she would fall asleep in the saddle. Jax wanted to sleep during the day, though, so she obeyed without complaint.
They rode over the same barren desert plains until the sun brought sweat to her brow. Vrell was so tired she hardly remembered the day’s journey. Jax stopped where a juniper tree and some chaparral bushes clustered together. Vrell tied up Nickel where Khai tethered the others. Jax took all three horses’ blankets and draped them over the vegetation to make a shady place.
Jax unfastened his bedroll from his pack and tossed it in the shaded spot. He looked to Vrell. “You have no bedroll?”
Vrell paled. She had not considered sleeping arrangements. How foolish. Someone else always took care of such things when she traveled. “No, sir.”
“Well,” Jax said, “the grass is rough, but at least it’s not rocky.”
Sleep on the ground? Vrell looked at her horse, blinking away tears. Of course the men would not give up their beds for a stray. Maybe if she made her rank and gender known?
She pressed her lips together and found them dry. Her mind weighed the consequences of revealing her identity. If she did, Jax or Khai would likely offer her a bed. She could sleep soundly. The knights would behave in her presence and return her to Walden’s Watch. She was not certain of Lord Orthrop’s political views, but there was at least a chance he would not turn her in.
On the other side, if Prince Gidon had offered a bounty for whoever located his
intended
, the knights might know of it. In that case, one of them might give up his bed to see her comfortable tonight, but in the morning they would escort her to Mahanaim, where she would be forced to marry the pig.
Or they might attack her.
She would keep silent and be thankful to sleep on the ground. The grass would be heavenly compared to a lifetime of sleeping on a featherbed next to a cockatrice. She suddenly realized why she disliked Khai Mageia so—he reminded her of the prince.
Vrell found a flat patch of earth a few yards from Jax and stomped the dead grass stalks flat. She got down on her knees and brushed away the broken blades and bits of sagebrush until she had a clear place to sleep. When she was satisfied, she glanced at the men. Jax had lain down. Khai was digging in his pack, his longsword stretched out behind him like a third leg. She strode away from the camp. She found a place where some chaparral obscured her view enough that the men would not see her use her latest privy.
When she returned to the shelter, Khai’s bedroll lay in the spot she had cleared to sleep in. She gasped. “What is the meaning—” She stopped herself before she spoke above her station.
One side of Khai’s mouth curved into a grin. “I thank you for clearing a place for me, boy. Saved me some work. About time you made yourself useful.”
Vrell seethed. Clearly that had not been a place for Khai. He had seen her clear it when Jax had told her the grass was softer than… Oh, why bother to think on it? The man had done it on purpose, and she would not let him see her anger. She turned her nose in the air and started trampling a new spot on the other side of Jax.
Then she realized a boy—especially a stray boy—would probably not put his nose in the air, so she slouched down and stuffed her hands in her pockets. Yes. Much more like a sulking boy.
She lay down in her earthen bed and curled into a ball on her side. The bitter chaparral smell filled her nostrils. She watched Khai pour red powder into a small, wooden bowl. He added a drop of water from his water skin and stirred it with a stick. What was he doing?
* * *
A sharp kick in the side woke her. A dark form loomed above.
She cringed as Khai sneered, “Up, sloth!” Then he mumbled, “What Master Hadar sees in you is a mystery.”
Vrell blinked wildly and scrambled back to avoid another kick. The sharp, dead grass scratched her palms. It was dark. Jax already sat atop his festrier and held the torch high. He held the reins to Vrell’s horse in his other hand. Nickel was already saddled and ready to go. Vrell sat up. Her body ached from so much riding yesterday and from sleeping on the hard ground.
She yawned and mounted her horse. She took a drink from her water skin, only to find it nearly empty. It had probably been unwise to use it for washing. What would she do if she ran out of water? Khai’s courser carried two jugs for the horses, but she had no desire to have her fingers broken.
Vrell’s eyelids were heavy in the darkness. She was thankful she did not have to walk. Occasionally she remembered to worry about slouching in her saddle like a boy, but she was too tired to keep up the concern. They rode for hours with only the clomping of hooves and the crickets’ song for company. Soon the darkness faded and the endless savanna lit up with the dull, grey dawn.
The air was cool, for now, and Vrell took a long cleansing breath. Her surroundings looked no better today than yesterday, however. Sagebrush and chaparral. A few juniper trees squatting here and there. But no streams, no ocean, no vibrant colors. With each step her horse took, the sun rose higher, the sky turned bluer, and Vrell grew more and more thirsty.
And now her water was gone.
Khai knew of Vrell’s bloodvoicing gift. Jax probably did as well. Maybe there was no point in hiding it. She spotted Jax’s red head scarf ahead. If she could get him aside, she could ask him how to bloodvoice someone directly. Then she could contact Mother. The instant Mother discovered Vrell’s plight, she would surely send someone to her rescue.
But as much as Vrell wanted to be home again, she desired to wed that fool of a prince even less. He didn’t love her. His attentions were strictly based on political gain. Carmine influenced much of northern Er’Rets. The prince likely figured that an alliance with Carmine would give him better control over the kingdom. But Prince Gidon’s reputation already held doom for the future. His rule would not be a noble one.
For the sake of the kingdom and Vrell’s future, she was safest hidden. If she could play her part, perhaps this apprenticeship in Mahanaim would be the perfect refuge.
Was she mad? The sun must be melting her good sense. She could not continue to travel with these Kingsguard ruffians. She should be seeking opportunities for escape. If she could get away and make it back to Walden’s Watch, perhaps Mitt would take pity. But Wayan would never keep secrets from Lord Orthrop, and if Lord Orthrop discovered Vrell had fled the Kingsguards, the blow to his pride might make him cross enough to deliver Vrell to Mahanaim himself. If only Lady Coraline had not chosen this time to travel.
Khai’s horse kicked up a plume of dust, and the wretched wind threw it back in her face. She coughed and spluttered and brushed the dirt off her tunic. As if her problems were not plentiful enough, where would she bathe?
Vrell’s mouth and throat were parched, her lips were crusty, and swallowing had become difficult. They rode until Jax found another cluster of juniper to build a shelter in. As soon as they dismounted, Khai led the horses—and the extra water—away. Vrell halfheartedly stomped out a clear spot in the dead grass, then lay down and instantly fell asleep.
* * *
All too soon, Khai’s kick jerked her awake. As they rode through the dark night, Jax demanded she pick up the pace, but she was so tired and thirsty. Her body would not stay focused enough to guide her horse. Every muscle throbbed and spasms of pain pulsed in her temples. Finally the sun rose, blurring the endless savanna like melted butter.
Jax reined his horse beside hers. “You must move faster, Vrell. We can make the forest before dark.”
Vrell blinked. Her horse had stopped completely. She looked at the giant, but his face went out of focus and she could not determine whether he was truly angry. Wasn’t it time for bed? Her eyelids drooped, her head rolled back, and she slumped. Jax’s ample hand gripped her arm, and she snapped to at his touch.
Her words came out in a whisper. “I shall try, sir.” She blinked and wiggled her tongue, but her pasty mouth could gather no saliva to swallow.
Jax tugged the water skin off Vrell’s satchel and shook it. “You have no water?”
Again her voice croaked, “I finished it yesterday.”
Khai groaned to the sky.
Jax pushed Vrell’s empty skin into her hands. She hugged it tight, cradling it like a broken child. The giant lifted a strap over his head and offered her his water jug. It was carved from some kind of gourd, the surface intricately burned with a picture of a tree. She clipped her empty water skin to her pouch and reached for Jax’s jug.
The wet, cool liquid softened her shriveled tongue. She swallowed and swallowed and swallowed, until Jax pulled the sweet moisture away. Vrell whimpered and eyed the jug greedily as he hung the leather strap back over his head.
“You must take small drinks,” Jax said. “Make your water last. How is it you live in Walden’s Watch and don’t know of the pre-spring drought?”
“Because he’s a half-wit,” Khai said. “Let him thirst. It will teach him to think next time.”
Vrell scowled at Khai. She had not understood about the drought. Lord Orthrop had said it came from mythical gods, so she had dismissed it as mere legend. Besides, Lord Orthrop and Mitt had always had plenty of water to drink. She forced her befuddled mind to answer as the stray, Vrell Sparrow, would.
“Um…” Her pounding head made it difficult to remember. She was to give Lady Coraline’s hometown as her own. That should suffice to explain to Khai why she knew little of Walden’s Watch. “I…come from Zerah Rock.”
Khai groaned again and looked away. “No wonder.” He turned back and threw up his hands. “He’s a sapient slave. Fancies himself worth more than he is.”
Jax silenced Khai with a sharp look. “I will share my water, but we must keep moving if we are to reach the forest before dark. There are many streams in NaharForest to refill our jugs.”
The drink revived Vrell enough that she could keep pace with the men’s horses. She was further strengthened when Jax passed out another meal of bread, meat, and figs.
She didn’t know why Jax treated her kindly, but she was glad. It had been fun, the first few days of playing a boy in Walden’s Watch. But the first time she’d gone to apprentice at the apothecary, she had quickly learned what life was like for a stray. No one had made eye contact, no one had spoken to her, and when she had tried to ask directions, she had been shoved, cursed at, or ignored. They had treated her as Khai treated her. But Jax did not.
The journey continued. Vrell’s eyes stung, begging to close. If Jax wasn’t going to let them sleep, couldn’t they stop to eat? Judging from the sun’s place in the sky, it must be early afternoon. A strange shadow painted the horizon. Could the drought be coming to an end?
Vrell occupied herself with memories of Bran. She recalled his wide smile and brown eyes, the feel of her hand in his. How she missed his company. She prayed that he was not too cross with her having gone into hiding. She couldn’t risk his knowing where she was. He sometimes did the silliest things for noble reasons.
An itch seized her left ear. A fly? She batted at the air, hoping to send the bug away, but the itch grew.
Vrell Sparrow.
Vrell halted her horse, clutching the reins until her knuckles whitened. Mother!
The call came again.
Vrell Sparrow.
Jax glanced over his shoulder, then turned his horse around. “You all right, Vrell?”
Vrell Sparrow.
Did she dare answer Mother now?
The pressure increased. Vrell scratched at both ears, certain that Jax was now trying to pry into her mind as well. She concentrated on keeping her defense strong, fearful that she was about to be discovered.
Jax steered his horse back to her side. “Are you well?”
Vrell nodded. “Something bit me, I think.”
Jax leaned close to examine her ear. He grabbed her chin and turned her head to look at the other. “Looks fine. We must ride.”
Vrell nodded. As the party continued along the dusty road, a sorrow settled over her. What could her mother be thinking now that Vrell had not answered? Would she call out again? And how could Vrell know if it was safe to reply?
As the day wore on, the shadow grew until Vrell realized it was actually a forest stretching across the land. Her heart raced for the change in scenery. Shade would make such a difference in the temperature. To her distant right, water glittered in the sun. She thought back to her geography lessons and figured that it must be the Lebab Inlet. She longed to run and bathe, but it was miles away—and saltwater would not quench her thirst.
The road before them curved up a small hill and entered the woods. Yellowed grass gave way to green. New sounds of nature met her ears as her horse neared the trees. A rustling of branches, twittering birds, and…
A stream!
A bubbling brook curved out of the forest along the road then cut east through the dry earth to run toward the ocean. Vrell dismounted and ran into the shallow flow. She slurped with her hands until satisfied, washed her face, then pushed up her sleeves to clean her arms.