“Storm’s coming,” I whispered as I threaded my fingers through the fierce winds.
“We should reach the outskirts of Laeth by the time it hits.”
Fantastic.
Sighing, I adjusted the sword on my back.
“Why there, of all places?”
“It’s the nearest place to rest on the way to Lyr. Don’t worry, we won’t linger long, just a handful of hours to rest the horse and wait out the worst of the storm.”
“All right.” And for the next few hours, we fell back into silence as thunder rolled and lightning shattered across the heavy clouds overhead.
The threatened rain held off until my little cottage was a speck in the distance. I had mixed emotions, returning to the place that I was ripped from a handful of months before. The soft mist began to gather as I dismounted and Caoilfionn started tethering the horse in the ruin of my garden. They had torched my home, but it didn’t burn evenly. The rains prevented it, and no one cared enough to come back, once the witch hunters had left, to make certain it really burned.
With a heavy sigh, I stared at the entrance to my home. The door was in splinters and tacked to the frame was a piece of parchment.
LET IT BE KNOWN THE VILLAGE OF LAETH DOES NOT TOLERATE ANY ACTS OF SEDITION, OR VIOLATION OF OUR LAWS BY OUTSIDERS INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO THE PRACTICE OF WITCHCRAFT, ENCHANGMENT AND THE MURDER OF A KNIGHT CAPTAIN OF THE MORNING LILY. FOR THESE CRIMES, THE WITCH VALENTINA WAS PUT TO THE STAKE MIDSUMMER EVE 1356.
—FREDRIK FRANZ, EALDORMAN OF LAETH
BY ORDER OF KING DYTYRK ANDRZEJ GRYFICI II, KING OF ERSLAND AND THE LESH ISLES.
I traced my damp fingers over the running weather-beaten script and then the royal seal beneath. I stared almost transfixed at the crowned griffin indentation in that circle of red wax as a murder of crows cawed loudly in the lonely nearby tree.
You wish, sheepfuckers.
I ripped the notice down and crumpled it, but I didn’t release it. No, that thick parchment remained in my hand as I crossed the threshold and into the ruin of what was once my home. The common room where I once treated so many villagers was blackened furniture and ash. Only half of the thatch had burned, leaving the room looking like some bizarre unfinished thing. It was surprising how untouched it was, but then again, the superstitious idiots of Laeth were probably convinced the place was cursed, or worse, haunted.
Rolling my eyes, I walked into my old rooms. Broken glass crackled under my boots as I passed down the hall. The fire damage was surprisingly sparse back here. Almost everything was still coated in soot, but the roof held. The mattress was there, and my dagger was still on the floor where I dropped it as I woke up that morning beside Aneurin all those weeks ago. The heavy fur blanket was on the floor. I gathered it up and brought it to my face. I could still smell his scent lingering there under the soot and staleness. Old habit made me carefully fold the heavy, expensive blanket. I would take it with me. It was a good blanket, and something told me this year would redefine cold for me.
Footsteps sounded at the door to my room as I retrieved the dagger from the floor. I didn’t even glance at the door as I recovered the small scabbard from the mattress. Sheathing the blade, I sighed and tucked it into my belt. The edge would need to be sharpened and rehoned, but I’d had it for as long as I could remember—I wasn’t going to let it sit here.
“I think the hearth in the hall at the back will hold a fire, and the ceiling isn’t so bad,” Caoilfionn said slowly.
“Of course, if you close the door to the common room this part will stay warm enough.”
“If there was another place to stay or another route to take we would take it.”
“I know, Caoilfionn.”
“Is there any furniture you don’t want used for kindling?”
“No.”
It’s not like I can plowing take any of it with me.
Caoilfionn nodded and slipped back out into the hall. I heard the heavy door to the common room lock and the shuffle of his feet down to the other rooms.
Slipping to the floor, I immediately went for the large chest at the foot of the bed. Opening the lid, I growled under my breath, looking down at my effects. Everything was the same as I left it the night before I was taken. I snatched the two useless wedding bands and reached into the bottom for my small pouch of savings. Drawing the sack closed, I chucked it onto the mattress before I pulled out the bundle of Aneurin’s letters. Tossing shifts and dresses behind me, I chose one good nightshift and a length of ribbon my mother had given me on my wedding day. The rest of the things in the chest were keepsakes from a life that felt like a lifetime and a half ago.
Rain poured loudly overhead as I sat next to the window staring out into the dead, weed-filled garden. With my eyelids closed, I could almost feel the mud beneath my back and the press of Aneurin on top of me again. Thunder cracked so loudly it shook the cottage and broke my concentration. Grumbling, I turned from the window and gathered the few things I had decided to keep. My footsteps took me to Caoilfionn, who was seated in front of the hearth at the end the hall. He was careful with the fire, tentatively tending the embers.
“Do you think they survived?” I asked as I sat down on the coarse dusty floorboards.
“Yes. No matter what it seems like right now, I will get him back for you, Valentina. You, Yorwrath, Islwyn, Grwn, and Aneurin, are all still bound together. Your tale is far from over.”
“Not to be a pessimist, but I doubt I’ll see them ever again, Caoilfionn. Or if I do meet them again I don’t plowing see how it would be a good thing,” I grumbled, snatching my empty pack from the floor.
“What I told you almost a month ago was true. The fleshly court will share the queen, and you are that queen. Trust me, Valentina. Admittedly, this is not how I thought things would go. But it has been seen and so it will be.”
Again I rolled my eyes as I started stuffing my pack with the things I had retrieved from the trunk. Once everything was tucked away, I took the ribbon and wrapped it around the hilt of my sword. Then I fell asleep in the hall, in the ruin of a house I had once called home a handful of weeks before, with thoughts of whether or not Caoilfionn actually believed the bullshit he was spouting drifting through my head.
The sound of horses riding at a full gallop woke me. As my lids fluttered open, I found that I was completely alone, and the fire at the hearth had died to mere embers. The storm had passed during the night, and pale dawn light streamed through the windows. Groaning, I pulled myself to my feet. My back was stiff from sleeping up against the wall. Stretching, I snatched my pack and sword from the floorboards. We had been riding for three days. I thought we had a head start on anyone they could send after me. I was wrong.
Glancing out of the ruins of the door frame, I stared down the approaching riders. There were seven of them galloping hard and fast in my direction. Looking around I noticed that Caoilfionn was nowhere to be found. As they neared I realized that I knew three of those riders. Aneurin, Grwn, and Yorwrath rode among four others I did not know. Yorwrath was clearly chasing his brother as Grwn trailed him and four elven riders swathed in green followed them. Yorwrath jumped up in his saddle as his massive black warhorse gained on Aneurin. The moment he was beside his brother he tackled him, knocking him out of the saddle. They yelled at each other in elf speech as they pummeled each other in the mud. Grwn hopped down from the saddle, and, before he could get near enough to pull Yorwrath off Aneurin, one of the riders shouldered hard into Grwn, knocking him back, and drew a sword that sang and gleamed in the pale of dawn.
Grwn held up his hands and took a step back as both Aneurin and Yorwrath drew their swords. Peeking from the door, I watched as the other three riders scrambled to unsheathe their weapons and attack Yorwrath with nonlethal force as he faced his brother. Every slash they made at Yorwrath was countered in an expert blur of steel and a well-timed kick or punch.
Eventually, Yorwrath broke through Aneurin’s defenses, and a hard kick to the wrist sent his brother’s sword flying into the grass where it stuck in the mud. Those four others attempted to descend upon Yorwrath but stopped abruptly as Yorwrath yelled at them and a pillar of flame flared between the angry elves.
The four unknown elves lowered their swords immediately. Yorwrath glanced wide-eyed for a moment at the charred grass. The shock gave Aneurin an opening, and he kicked the sword from Yorwrath’s grip. The steel twisted through the air and landed near his own blade. Yorwrath cursed and jumped at his brother, knocking him into the mud again.
They fought like wildcats as they slid in the wet earth, desperately clawing, punching, and kicking each other. Grwn said something and the leader of the unknown group of elves nodded, sheathing his sword. The two of them tentatively approached the muddied struggling brothers.
Grwn looped his arm around Yorwrath’s neck, and the other elf did the same to Aneurin. As the brothers were separated, they continued to kick at one another, causing more mud to fly through the air, further coating their already saturated bodies. I couldn’t stop my smile. It might not have been my Aneurin, but the Swynwr still had some of that fire. After their kicks lost their ferocity and the brothers passed out, Grwn and the unknown elf released their holds. Grwn started dragging Yorwrath toward me, and one of the other elves picked up Aneurin’s feet and followed him. Caoilfionn then stepped from the forest with a brace of rabbits dangling over his shoulder. He whistled as he stepped past everyone. He reached the door before they did and I noticed he had nine rabbits, one for everyone.
“You knew,” I accused him as he smirked a little, stepping past me.
“Yes.” He didn’t offer any more. He began whistling again as he walked into the back portion of the destroyed cottage. I followed him as Grwn finally made it to the door, leaving a smear of mud in Yorwrath’s wake. When he noticed the glass on the floor, he slung the mud-covered elf over his shoulder and grinned at me.
“We won, and then the Swynwr there sent his ten best after you. That ten quickly turned into four when Yorwrath got done with them,” Grwn said, with a bit of a chuckle. “It was a good fight, but I hate having to fight our own. There are only so many of us.”
“Why did he come himself? Doesn’t he have a city to run?”
“Fuck if I know. He should be in the capital and Ffraid told him as much. She’s not happy about her Dragons being dragged into this.”
“And the magic? Are we just going to pretend Yorwrath didn’t just…” I gestured, and Grwn laughed, adjusting Yorwrath on his shoulder as two elves came through carrying Aneurin.
“I ignored it when he did it during the siege, and I’m ignoring it now. Once the council saw what we were capable of they surrendered. I’ll let the more learned minds deal with the implications. I just want to get home.”
“That the girl?” a female asked in heavily accented common.
“Yeah. But I can’t let you take her.” Grwn stepped between me and the hooded woman carrying Aneurin’s shoulders.
“I wasn’t going to. I’m a Dragon, Grwn. Did you forget that?”
“No, I also didn’t forget that you just rode hard for a day and a half to help the Swynwr catch this girl and put her in chains. So sorry about my skepticism at your newfound loyalties.”
“This isn’t a new loyalty. Yorwrath has the eyes of fire… You’ve seen it as well as I have. I just wasn’t sure he had the power until now. You know how I feel about Yorwrath.”
“Which is exactly why I’m skeptical.” Grwn narrowed his eyes at the hooded female.
“You’re entitled to your skepticism, but you follow him because he leads the Redcaps. We Dragons will follow him because he has been blessed by an actual dragon. And we’ll follow his orders above the Swynwr’s because whether you realize it or not, to be blessed like that is a big deal.”
“Is this where you threaten me if anything happens to him?”
“Damn straight, big boy.” With that, she nodded to the elf carrying Aneurin’s feet, and they walked into the back. Grwn sagged as the door closed.
“What was that?” I asked raising a brow.
“Ffraid being her usual charming self. Yorwrath will get a kick out of Ffraid saying she’ll follow him.”
“Why?”
“You could say they don’t get along.” He laughed a little. “But that’s like saying humans and elves don’t get along.”
“We get along.”
“And I love my wife, but that doesn’t stop it from being vastly understated on a larger scale.” He flashed me a smile and patted my head. “C’mon, I smell rabbit. I love Caoilfionn’s roast rabbit. When we get to the shore, I’m going to make him show Hedda how he does it. I love my wife, but I pity my children having to eat her food.”
“Do you think they’re going to drag me back?”
“No. I know they aren’t.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because the only one that wants to drag you back now—if I believe Ffraid—is Aneurin, or rather the Swynwr. That isn’t the Aneurin I knew. I’m going to do what the Aneurin I’m loyal to would want me to do. I’m going to take you to shore and make sure you’re safe there.”
“And Yorwrath?” I glanced at the muddy, limp form hanging over Grwn’s shoulder.
“I don’t know what his aims are, but I know he didn’t want you kept in chains. Is there some place I can put him down?”
“Yeah.” I walked into the back, and Grwn followed. Opening the door to my room, I gestured to the bed as Grwn dropped Yorwrath on the feather mattress. “Of plowing course,” Grwn grumbled he lifted up Yorwrath’s tunic, exposing a bandage that was soaked through.
“I’ll tend to him. Go eat your rabbit,” I said as I snatched one of my shifts from the floor and started to rip the linen into strips.
“If you say so… Call if you need anything.”
“I’ll be fine. Ask Caoilfionn to put water on. I’m sure my kettle survived the fire the sheepfuckers tried to set.”
“All right.” Grwn slipped out of the room after those words, leaving me with the unconscious, mud-slicked Yorwrath.
Setting the bandages aside, I left the room, passed those gathered in the hall, and walked down the stairs into the cellar. The air was stale and full of rotted herbs, which gave off a sickly sweet smell. Light was also a problem, as there was hardly any, which led me to grope around in the dark. The good thing was I still remembered where I had put things, and finding a needle, ointment, and thread only took a handful of moments. At the top of the steps, I paused and my brows furrowed.