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)
She spent the afternoon two rows behind me, flanked by Jarek and Elisaf, her brow furrowed as she gripped her reins. Too many times I felt the urge to fall back and ride alongside her.
Abarrane’s watchful gaze and words of caution kept me in place.
To think I am a king and others are dictating my actions.
“She is smart and already figuring things out on her own. Do you not think it wise to begin sharing the various possibilities for the future as they affect her?”
“Maybe.” I’ve hated skirting questions, deceiving her. “But not yet. We need her attention on learning to wield her affinities, not on the many ways Malachi plans to bring us ruin.”
“I agree, though I cannot promise what happened last night with Ianca will not happen again. You might wish to find Romeria her own sleeping quarters.”
I scan the field where we’ve settled. “They will be pitching tents tonight, to shelter from the coming weather, so she can move to one of them.” Ideally with me in it.
By the tiny smile that curls Gesine’s lips, I suspect the caster is hoping for that. But to what benefit, I can’t be sure. Is it to help keep us together, moving toward one goal—fulfilling this prophecy she is so adamant is true?
There’s no use demanding an answer. I’m well-versed in Mordain’s doublespeak. The answer she’ll give me won’t necessarily be the one I’m asking for. Still, the caster has proven herself reliable, helpful, and skilled. We’ve benefited greatly from having her here.
“Your Highness.” Abarrane marches toward us, a sour expression twisting her face. For once, I don’t think it has anything to do with Gesine’s presence.
“Please keep Romeria focused on her affinities.”
“Of course.” Gesine takes that as her dismissal, rushing away before having to cross paths with the commander.
“No word from Iago and Drakon?” Of all the legionaries, they are the two Abarrane most often sends ahead to scout. Both are accomplished warriors but more importantly, they’re personable. Sometimes a charmed tongue is more effective than a sharp blade.
“Do you see either of them here?”
I don’t scold her for her harsh tone. My question was senseless. The two legionaries knew where to meet us and should have been waiting. “Perhaps they are simply caught up at the tavern.”
“Then they would be idiots. I did not train them to be idiots,” she snaps. “This has Isembert written all over it.”
Again, I forgive her for her mood. She has taught every one of these warriors—many of them as children in my castle sparring square—and she has the same worries now that I have. Theon warned us of Isembert’s suspicion and of the stories of travelers going missing. For the two legionaries to not return to us when they knew time is of the essence …
Abarrane is right to be agitated.
The ride to the wall is at least half an hour, and dusk is waning to darkness. The impending rain will follow closely after, making the trek bleak. “Let me get Elisaf.”
“We may need Jarek’s blade.”
“No. The three of us are enough, and he will draw attention. Besides, I need him to stay with Romeria.”
Abarrane’s eyebrow lifts. “She will agree to stay here?”
One thing I’ve learned about Romeria is that she is probably already looking for an excuse to lurk in the shadows of that town. There is no way she will agree to stay behind.
But I’m not giving her a choice this time. It’s too dangerous. “I will deal with Romeria. Tell your warriors only one fire and to keep it small. We shouldn’t make our presence known.”
29
Romeria
“Your Highness.” Brawley reaches for my horse’s bridle.
“No.” Jarek hops out of his saddle and steps in to cut off the stable hand. “She wants to ride this horse, she can learn how to care for it too.”
Brawley pales as he falters between the looming warrior and me. It’s his job to handle the horses before and after a day’s ride. It’s all he knows how to do. “But … Your Highness?”
I wave him off. “It’s fine. Zorya’s waiting for your help.”
The mortal can’t get away fast enough, and Zorya is only too happy to hand him her reins.
Slowly, I climb down from Eros’s back. My body is stiff from so many hours of focusing on my posture, but I refuse to whimper or complain or do anything that might hint at it.
Beside me, Elisaf smiles. “You did well today.”
My pride swells. “I did, didn’t I?” I rode the entire afternoon without losing control once.
“She was adequate,” Jarek counters, “for someone keeping pace with overloaded supply wagons.”
I snort. “You know what? From you, I will take that as a shining compliment.”
“Take it how you want, as long as you learn how to handle your tack. Start here.” Jarek walks me through the steps, using his horse as an example and waiting for me to follow with mine. When I’m forced to admit that I’m not strong enough to lift the heavy saddle without dragging it off the horse’s back, he doesn’t give me grief, his arms tensing as he hauls it away.