Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“But Lord Danthrin was in Cirilea. He would know what happened. Wouldn’t he have come back by now?”
“We will see soon enough.”
I shake my head. Elisaf is far too calm.
The entry gate is nothing more than two halves of an oversized wooden door, held together by iron straps and propped open with chains. Several men in armor guard it. On the ramparts above, more guards wait, arrows nocked. They seem to be multiplying by the minute.
“What if they don’t let us in?” I whisper.
“That would be foolish,” comes Elisaf’s smooth response.
Surveying the hardened bodies and harder faces traveling with me, I would have to agree. Each of these Legion warriors has at least five weapons on display—and far more hidden beneath their leather.
“What if they shoot arrows at us?” I amend.
“Also foolish, but we are shielded by our caster, just in case. And you must relax. Even if they have heard what has transpired in Cirilea, they would not dare refuse someone of royal blood.”
Our caster. Whatever was shared between Zander and Gesine in that tent, they seem to have come to an understanding. An alliance.
“But I doubt anyone here knows what has happened. It will take weeks for word to spread. Months. There are villages in Islor that believe Zander’s father is still alive and king of Islor. Granted, Freywich will hear the latest sooner than most, given its proximity to Cirilea.”
“Here, eat this.” Gesine reaches between us, thrusting an object into my hand.
“What is it?” Besides something shriveled and brown.
“A special mushroom.”
I give her a flat look. “I’ve taken those before, and they did not relax me.” I spent hours hiding behind trees in Central Park, believing a man on a bike was chasing me.
“These are morels grow on the islands off the Gulf of Nyos. They can disguise the scent of Ybarisan blood.”
“The orange blossoms.” Or rather, neroli oil from the blossoms, Zander had said. An appealing scent for the Islorians and unmistakable. It’s why I can’t move freely among them without stirring notice.
“Exactly. And until we can confirm what these people know, you shouldn’t parade through the gate as Princess Romeria. Just in case. With these morels, they will assume you are an Islorian.” She studies the guards ahead. There’s a slight shimmer in her green eyes to hint of her channeling, and through the material of her dress, I see the outline of the glowing doe emblem. She’s using the air to shield us. “Chew it well before you swallow and it will work faster.”
The mushroom tastes like wood and sunflower shells. I’m forcing it down my throat just as we reach the entrance.
“Halt and identify yourselves!” the guard on the left hollers.
“Are you saying you do not recognize your king?” Abarrane’s voice is crisp and mocking.
The guard falters, his eyes shifting between his partner at the gate and then Zander, to his filthy tunic and breeches that are far from regal. “We were not aware that the king would be paying a visit to Freywich.” Has he ever seen Zander? Maybe they heard the news, and he now assumes this is Atticus?
“Well, he has, so you should beg forgiveness appropriately.”
“I apologize, Your Highness.” His face reddens. “Lower your weapons!” He dips his head toward Abarrane. “My lady—”
Abarrane is out of her saddle and holding a dagger against the guard’s neck faster than I can blink. “I command the King’s Legion, and I will split you in two if you ever call me that again.”
Soft chuckles carry from behind me, the warriors amused.
“Yes, my—” He winces as the tip of her blade digs into his skin. “Yes, Commander.”
I catch the subtle shake of Zander’s head. “We require the lord’s manor for the night.”
The guard bows. “Yes, Your Highness. We will notify the lady of the house so she may prepare suitable accommodations for you.” He snaps his fingers at the other guard, who takes off running, his hefty armor hampering his stride.
Zander’s gaze skates over the parapets. “The Legion needs tributaries and supplies. I would hope that Freywich’s keepers will be generous in this regard.”
That earns a second bow, and a third. “Yes, Your Highness. We will make sure of it.”
Zander urges his horse through the gate, and we trail behind.
Freywich is a small but bustling town, the buildings situated around the square. Most have thatched roofs and are simple in design, some neglected. Here and there are more elaborate stone cottages. The keepers’ homes, no doubt.
“You said this place has struggled?” Scrawny children run in the streets, their faces streaked with dirt. Equally malnourished parents chase them in unkempt clothing. The sour stench of unbathed bodies surrounds us. Even the stray animals are gaunt.
“For years.” Elisaf smiles at a little girl. “Given their location away from the king’s road, they do not benefit from travelers’ coin, and their proximity to Eldred Wood limits their hunting grounds. Lord Danthrin beseeched King Eachann to excuse them a portion of their levies on more than one occasion. If I recall correctly, the last issue was a horrendous blight upon their crops.”