“Fuck Aquitaine. Fuck all of Aquitainia.”
“I agree. It’s a horrible country. Flies, and midges, and all thisgreen.” Nali waited for a glimmer of a smile that never came. “We can’t stay here,” he said, as gently as he was able. “Erik, and my men, and yours are all beneath us somewhere, making their way through the tunnels. It would be folly to fly back the way we’ve come and follow them that way. We have to press on. We won’t find Tessa loitering in the mountains, and the drakes will need to feed soon, besides.”
Rune puffed more vapor toward the sky. A tear leaked from his left eye, and froze halfway down his cheek. His lips twitched, and Náli had the sense there were a dozen things he wanted to say—emotional and overwrought—and that he was battling to keep them inside.
He wiped his face, and said, “You’re pressing on.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. That’s the only thing I can do.”
Slowly, the snow crunching and creaking beneath him, Rune sat up. He sniffed hard, his eyes and nose red-rimmed. “I don’t,” he started, and stopped. He looked lost. Like the idea of moving exhausted him, and like he might never smile again.
Náli might be a callous brat, but the sight of the always-jovial prince in this state put a lump in his throat.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” he said, and Rune’s head lifted, brows quirked together in question. He looked desperate for direction. “We’ll ride toward Aquitaine, and we’ll rendezvous with your uncle. We’ll search for Tessa on our way, but if we can’t find her, we’ll ask Oliver what we should do next.”
Rune stared at him a long, bemused moment, and then nodded.
“Do you think you can ride Alfie by yourself?”
“I’ll suppose I’ll have to, won’t I?”
“I suppose you will,” Náli agreed. Then: “Valgrind, be a dear and help our prince.”
Rune realized too late what he meant by that, and squawked in dismay when Valgrind plucked him up by the tunic again and swung him aboard Alfie.
Náli watched Rune brush himself off, and find the stirrups, and gather the reins, expression uncertain. Alfie twisted her head around and made an inquiring, chirping sound at him.
“I don’t know,” Rune told her, with an apologetic stroke to her neck. “I’ll do my best.” He closed his eyes a moment, and bowed his head, and Náli felt even sorrier for him.
What if it had been Matti taken? Spirited away by the enemy, carried to parts unknown? Náli would have frothed at the mouth until Klemens slipped a little sleeping powder in his tea.
He wasn’t used to speaking so carefully, so softly, but he kept trying. “Fasten your tether,” he reminded.
Rune held still a moment, until Alfie nudged his knee, and then he clipped himself to the saddle. When he lifted his head, his eyes blazed. He looked very like his uncle when he said, “Let’s go.”
~*~
Tessa was warm when she woke. She wascomfortable.
But that couldn’t be right.
As sleep faded, she remembered the cold of the wind, the screams of the drakes. Remembered falling, and landing against hard metal, and the cruel, pale twist of the Sel’s mouth when he caught her.
Then came panic.
She bolted upright, flailing, reaching for a weapon, or Rune, or a set of reins that wasn’t there. Gentle yellow sunlight filled her eyes and blinded her. When she gasped, she breathed in the scents of lavender, and fresh-brewed tea, and soap. Fresh, clean smells that didn’t belong on the back of a drake.
“You’re awake, my lady,” an accented female voice said, too close for comfort. “Here. I brought you tea.”
She scrubbed the grit from her eyes and blinked until her surroundings came into view. She sat in the center of a large bed draped in purple embroidered silk, wearing a soft white sleeping gown that wasn’t her own. She spotted a crackling fireplace,sofas, and chairs, and tables, rugs laid over a stone floor. Everything was purple and gold and white, clean, and lavish, and expensive-looking. To her left, a series of arched windows let out onto a balcony, where birds flitted and twittered. To her left, a pale, petite woman with her white hair in a complicated topknot offered a steaming mug.
Tessa shrank back away from her on instinct.
“Apologies, my lady,” the woman said, and withdrew a step.
Tessa blinked some more, and scanned the room. There was no one else present; the two of them appeared to be alone together.
If the purple and gold décor wasn’t enough of a clue, the woman’s complexion marked this place as distinctly Selesee. The pale skin, and light eyes, and white hair. She was tiny: spindly neck, twig-sized wrists sticking out from the sleeves of her purple robe. Unlike the soldiers Tessa had encountered, however, her expression was apprehensive, without a trace of aggression.
