“She’s yours.”
My fingers tangle in the horse’s mane, which feels like fog and light intertwined. “You bought me a horse?”
Boreas avoids my eye. “I bought her from a trainer in Neumovos. He gave me a good price. It’s nothing.”
It is the furthest thing from nothing.
The chance to ride throughout his territory at will. A sign of his trust in me, belief that I will not flee. Boreas has gifted me something that, for the first time in my life, is wholly mine.
A hard knot of emotion swells in my throat. I sense a shift inside myself. Something soft taking place of all the hardness I’ve endured.
“Thank you,” I whisper, lifting my gaze to his. “I will treasure her for the rest of my days.”
He regards me for a long moment, perhaps in indecision. Then he crosses the distance separating us, tucking himself beside me against the stall. “What will you name her?” he asks, pressing a large palm to the horse’s muscular neck.
The tip of his smallest finger rests a hairsbreadth from mine. For whatever reason, I’m fixated on it.
“Iliana,” I say. “My mother’s name.”
“Iliana.” Boreas tracks the path my hand makes as it smooths over the mare’s cheek. “It suits her. You can choose whatever stall you like. And these are yours,” he says, gesturing to her tack: saddle, blanket, bridle, halter. “The hostler will care for her if you wish.”
“That won’t be necessary. I will oversee her care.” Not that I distrust the hostler—he is excellent with the horses—but it’s important to shape the bond between horse and rider in these early days.
Since Iliana is already saddled, all that’s left is to walk her out of the stable. Phaethon tosses his head, preening in the presence of a lady friend. Soldiers gather beyond the gates. They are stoic and focused, reserved and unquestioning. It hits me then, what awaits at the end of this trek; the long miles and many hours ahead.
“How dire is it?” I ask as Boreas mounts, directing Phaethon to my side.
He lifts a hand to his captain, signaling departure. Briefly, Pallas’ gaze meets mine. I have not forgotten our first encounter in the practice court months ago, and he likely hasn’t either. As long as he keeps his distance, I’ll have no reason to spear another arrow through his chest.
“According to my men, the newest tear has expanded overnight.”
“Then we’ll close it,” I say. Knit all those holes back together, and stop the humans from crossing into the Deadlands.
“We will do no such thing.” He regards me from atop his mount. “The risk to your life is too great.”
For the briefest moment, I sense an undercurrent of fear from Boreas. “That’s never stopped you before.”
“That was then.”
Tugging Iliana’s reins to the right, I move toward the gates. “So what’s the point of me traveling with you?”
“You tell me.” Softly amused. “You volunteered to come.”
“You did not stop me.”
“Your will cannot be hindered. This, I have learned.”
He has a point. “This is war, is it not? And in war, there is always something to be done.” I imagine there will be plenty to do once we reach camp.
The king inclines his head in approval. “Indeed.”
The journey takes the day. Boreas and I ride at the head of the campaign: two precise columns, the tail extending a half-mile behind. I’m content to ride in silence, listening to the soldiers laugh and poke fun at one another, but Boreas and I occasionally engage in small talk, which no longer makes me want to pull my hair out.
We reach camp hours before sundown. Tents, arranged in neat rows, dot the snow-patched clearing, white canvas pulled taut and staked into the ground. The air rings with metal and heavy, stamping hooves. Soldiers push carts of supplies down the muddy path, or gather firewood from the surrounding forest, or dig latrines. There is no laughter. There is barely conversation. Tension and uncertainty seep through the half-frozen soil.
Many of the soldiers and staff stare, despite the hood covering my face. I dip my chin in acknowledgment. Regardless of their perception of me, I am here to help.
After being relieved of our mounts, the Frost King directs us to a voluminous tent situated on the northern end of camp. He dismisses the guards and pulls aside the flap for me to enter. Once inside, I halt. Of course there is only one bed.
