“Our magic comes from our names—our bloodlines. When a Wielder Awakens, they offer their name to the gods, hoping one of them will bless them with their magic.” Nina gently eased Kahaida to a stop. “After one picks you, your name belongs to them. No one else but you and them are allowed to utter it fully.”
“Seems like a rule easy to break,” remarked Sol.
Nina laughed. “It is, often other Wielders say names out of spite. But the gods who own the uttered name deal with them.”
“The good old days when the ones who broke that rule would just explode, were so fun,” Sawyer said beside them as she dismounted her horse. “The gods aren’t as brutal anymore.”
They stopped at the beginning of a patch of hills. The moonlight vaguely illuminated the compact line of trees ahead, which seemed to spiral into tendrils of darkness. They stood in an open clearing surrounded only by those hills and rows of evergreens.
“Here, Nins? It’s kind of out in the open.” Alix frowned as he inspected the surroundings.
“We need to rest. The next mountain that can provide coverage is hours away.” Nina eased off Kahaida then held out her hand to Sol.
Sol didn't take it and instead clumsily slid off the beast.
“We take turns, then,” Cas said. “I will take first watch.”
Unsurprisingly, Sol didn’t sleep. She lay in the tent Sawyer materialized out of her pack, staring at the fraying seams. The sound of nature was soothing, reminiscent of Yavenharrow, but the murmurs and outline of the fire reminded her she was far, far from home.
The Wielders grew silent over the course of a few hours, so much so that Sol peeked her head out with hopes they had left.
They had not.
She resisted the nagging urge to mount the kindest-looking horse and gallop back the way they had come. The night had grown cold enough Sol saw her breath in small puffs as she eased from the tent. Nina and Sawyer lay side by side near the fire, while Alix sat behind them, resting his head on a tree. They looked peaceful, almost human-like while they slept—no signs of those brutally trained individuals from the day before. Sol didn’t think she would ever be able to replace that first impression.
“I thought you promised not to run away.”
Sol nearly fell back into the tent. “Gods.”
Cas leaned on a tree opposite his court mates, sharpening what looked like a branch into a stake. He wiped the wisps of wood away from the tip. “I told them not to trust you.”
“I’m not running away,” she said. “Although I thought about it.”
“Out of curiosity,” he glanced at her, “which horse would you have taken?”
“Not Kahaida—she tried to eat my braid earlier.”
A small smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “She is probably the only one who would have listened to you. The others are trained not to let riders that aren’t theirs mount them alone.”
“Shouldn't you sleep?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I swear I won’t run.”
“I’m not tired. And I don’t trust you.” Silence fell.
“So, what’s your deal?” Sol walked around the campfire. “You refused to tell me back at the Hound. And you’ve made an awful first impression by chasing me into the ocean.”
Cas paused his carving. “Now, I didn’t do that, Princess. You did.”
She shrugged. “Semantics.”
Resuming his weapon crafting, he said, “Officially, I’m your royal guard.”
“And unofficially?”
He tapped the blade on the stake. “Just along for Sawyer’s commentary.”
“I heard that,” Sawyer said, her eyes still closed. Beside her, Nina giggled. “Aren’t we all?” The burning was stronger this time.
Sol didn’t think she would ever get used to her birthmark flaring, but at that particular moment, it caught her too off guard. It was a spear in the center of her back, then a thick, pulsing oil spreading across the star's peaks. Her body wasn’t her own as she fell to her knees and suppressed a yell.
