“No one is going to die.” Francis’ thumb brushed over my chin. “I would never let that happen. I would never agree to this if I thought the risk was too high.”
“As I recall, you were quite against this trip.” My eyes met his.
“I was against this because I believe our time is better spent gathering weaponry, not because I was afraid for the safety of my family.” Francis sighed. “I would not let us all walk into jeopardy, Cordelia. I do think through my plans, remember?”
“Everyhing will be well.” Roxanne rolled her eyes, walking towards us; Francis dropped his hand, his thumb parting from my chin. “The three of you are so dramatic. It’s just a bunch of humans playing Royalty. They are harmless,” she added, putting a cloak around her shoulders.
I envied her confidence.
“He has the whole Royal army in his possession currently,” Francis mumbled, walking towards the window by the main door. “But sure, they are just harmless humans.”
“Please stop speaking of it.” Florence shook her head. “Before I get ill.” Florence followed Roxanne’s suit and set the cloak atop her shoulders. “And we won’t leave you, Cordelia, even if it means all of us die,” she added.
I guessed they’d heard the whole conversation then. So much for privacy...
“Eavesdropping is impolite.” Francis passed me a cloak, putting his own on.
“No one is going to die, dear Moon.” Roxanne rolled her eyes at Florence, glancing out the window. “Simon and Ash are here, we must be on our way.” She opened the main door as we all followed her down to the stables.
Snow veiled the bare branches of the forest, keeping the resting trees warm in its embrace. Bright stars decorated the dark skies; the crescent Moon proudly hung in the center of her realm as we walked through the labyrinth of the night woods.
My hand tightly wrapped around the reins when the frost made its way down the tips of my fingers, my other hand played with the stamp in my pocket. A tremble journeyed down my spine as a few snowflakes landed on my lashes.
“Winter is rather cold this year,” Ash noted, riding their horse alongside mine.
“It is indeed,” I agreed, watching Francis and Simon ride a few yards in front of us: deep in an argument about wine. “I am sorry we didn’t get to properly meet last time.” I turned to Ash, remembering my abrupt departure on Francis’ birthday.
“No worries.” They smiled. “I had to leave shortly after you.” Ash shrugged.
Annabelle reached for a nearby branch despite my best attempts at keeping her upright; the branch snapped into two as she chewed on it.
Roxanne and Florence rode past me before I managed to turn Annabelle back onto the path. Shaking my head at such disobedience, I caught up to the rest of my company.
“I hear you play the violin.” Ash waited on the path for me and Annabelle, glancing at Francis who shook his head at something that Simon had said. “I hear it is the sound of heaven.”
“That is hardly true,” I chuckled. “Whoever told you that must be a fool.”
“I highly doubt that; Francis rarely praises anyone.” Ash winked, the corners of their lips tugging upwards. “I used to play too.” They nodded. “But when the Crimson War started in the East, we had to flee, leaving everything behind.”
My heart skipped a beat at the reminder of the horrors that erupted in the East, the horrors that took my brother away from me. “Where are you from?” I cleared my throat.
“Here and there.” Ash shrugged. “My human father was a sailor, so I am not even sure where I was born,” they tittered. “But I spent the final years of my human life in the East—in the city of Vel’mi, that is where my mother was from—until the Wurdulacs came to our home seven years ago.”
Vel’mi.
“I am very sorry.” I swallowed.
“I’m sorry too.” Ash nodded.
“Brian—my older brother—loved Vel’mi.” A sad smile tugged on my lips. “His letters were always filled with appreciation for Vel’mi’s charm.”
Ash sighed, their eyes searching for the crescent Moon. “It is in ruins now,” they whispered. “No one cared to rebuild it after the war. Everyone who lived there is either dead or fled that day to places that won’t be found on the map.”
Annabelle halted, forcing my attention before me. The woods thinned in the distance, the Barren’s estate peeked through the forest.
“Let’s leave our horses here.” Francis pointed at a willow tree peacefully collecting the snowflakes onto its glorious branches. “The rest of the trip we’ll make on foot, it’s not far,” he told us, meeting my gaze for merely a second before dismounting his horse and adjusting the satchel around his shoulder.
I dismounted Annabelle; my boots touched the freshly fallen snow as my fingers rushed to tighten the reins around the willow tree.
