Immediately, I start to feel better. I’m able to restrain myself and savor each bite as instructed, and my stomach settles with each passing moment.
“What did you dose us with?” Aren asks.
“Water from the henbane cactus. It forces the drinker to only tell the truth—to their fullest knowledge, of course. The effects should have worn off by now.” Katharine looks at me. “Do you want to try to lie?”
I believe her. I don’t feel that strange itch in my mind that forced me to answer truthfully.
It’s a relief.
“I needed to keep my secret. I don’t mean to be untrustworthy.”
“Leaders make difficult choices, and I see that your intentions are pure. But you can understand why we’ve needed to use the cactus more frequently.”
“Osian?” Aren asks, reaching for another slice of the beautifully carved fruit.
Katharine nods. “It’s difficult to trust anyone in this blighted land. Apologies that the lack of trust extended to you, cousin.”
I choose not to hold it against her. I’m trespassing on this land under false pretenses, and with war looming, it’s difficult to tell friend from foe. If I were in her position—a princess in exile, hunted and in hiding—I’d be equally wary of anyone crossing this border under mysterious circumstances.
“The world is on the precipice of war. I must try to get to Osian, even if my mission is sure to fail.”
Katharine looks solemn. “Then you’re going to your doom. He is intent on building a new kingdom from the ashes of Estyrion. Anyone who sets foot in Engel is forced into service. People in the Great Waste don’t have much, and what we have dwindles every day. This so-called ‘king’ promises a solution for those in desperate need, but it comes at a terrible price. He’s building an indentured army, and no one can escape.”
My father’s spies have heard rumors of such an army, but it chills me to hear this from a trustworthy source. “How do you know?”
Katharine’s lip twitches. Pain. It flickers across her eyes, and she shifts uncomfortably on her pillow. Jingu takes her hand and massages it.
“We’ve lost many to the false promises of this so-called king. Our eldest son, Arnfried, for one. We haven’t heard from him in months since he went to Engel for supplies against our admonishments. He joins many who have gone before him and disappeared,” Katharine tells us.
I see a mother’s distress in her eyes. My stomach lurches. I feel for her—the terrible weight of being unable to save a loved one. And worse? Not even knowing if they are alive to save.
“The few resources Estyrion holds Osian has harnessed into building Engel and its dreadful army, with none to spare for the rest of us. The city is a cursed place, sucking the marrow from this already barren land and leaving nothing behind.”
“But what else am I to do?” I ask. “You know I spoke the truth, and you know I can’t stop until I’ve exhausted all my options. This is the only way our kingdoms can defend themselves against the Usurper and the Kilandrar’s dark powers without exorbitant loss of life—well, other than perhaps my own.” I try to sound flippant, but Aren looks alarmed—stricken even.
I hope it reflects a depth of feeling for me that she hasn’t shown before. I turn back to Katharine. “I wish you’d join us when the time comes.”
Katharine’s gaze shifts to Aren. “Like you’ve convinced a barmaid from Alarice to join you on your impossible mission?”
“Aren is one of the most loyal people I’ve ever met,” I say, feeling the need to defend her. “If you can’t trust me to see this through, you can trust her.”
The exiled princess of Penrith huffs loudly through her nose, amused. Aren flushes deeply and averts her gaze, but I mean every word. I wouldn’t have gotten this far without her.
Katharine seems satisfied. My conviction seems to sway her, or at least the understanding that I cannot be stopped.
“You two are braver than most. I’ll give you that. Not smarter, but definitely braver.”
“I still have hope that I can persuade Osian to see reason. Perhaps we can even get your son back. Katharine, if I succeed, I can saveeveryone. Even return you to Penrith.” I may have taken that a bit too far, but I hope Katharine finds it compelling.
She smiles at me like I’m an innocent child. Like she thinks it’s a fool’s hope. “Eat,” she says, gesturing to the fruit before us. “You’ll need your strength.”
While Aren and I eat and drink what we can, Katharine readies precious new supplies for us. We finish the fruit and some hot porridge, and she gives us a healing salve that must have some magical properties, because within moments, my lips are no longer cracked and split. The painful sunburn on my face and neck disappears. My head and legs have stopped hurting, too.
Aren looks much better as well. Especially after Katharine presents us with fresh clothes and tells her the village has public baths.
It’s then that I realize I haven’t seen Aren smile in days.
Katharine and Jingu are more than generous, offering aid despite having so little to spare in their ramshackle village. I owe them more than my promise to find their son.
