Lady Enis looked dubiously at Valenden’s bandages beneath his partially unbuttoned shirt. “Prince Valenden, you’re looking significantly worse than the last time we met.”
Valenden threw back the rest of his ale and explained, “We met with some trouble on the road a few days ago.”
Lady Enis’s thin eyebrows rose. “What kind of trouble?”
Bryn cleared her throat and said in a quiet voice so as not to upset the nearby diners, “We were attacked by unusually large wolves a few miles before reaching the Vil-Kevi border.”
Lady Enis’s mouth pursed knowingly.
“This isn’t the first you’re hearing of such an attack,” Saraj guessed.
“No, unfortunately, it isn’t. We’ve had reports from several villages and farmsteads of these large wolves you speak of. My cousin, Prince Anter, sent out hunters who have yet to find anything.”
Bryn leaned in over the flickering candle. “We killed two of the beasts. We have their bodies in the carriage.”
“Do you truly? Prince Anter would be exceedingly interested to examine them.”
“Feel free to take one,” Valenden muttered. “Personally, I think it’s macabre to ride around with dead monsters wrapped in blankets.” He doubled over, coughing.
Bryn frowned. “Val, you should rest.” She spotted Rangar speaking to the innkeeper behind the bar. A few keys traded hands. Bryn waved Rangar over.
“Lady Enis,” Rangar said, acknowledging the countess with a nod. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Rangar, you’d better get Val up to a room,” Bryn suggested.
Valenden didn’t argue as Rangar helped him to his feet, though he did swipe a bottle of mead off the bar on their way to the stairs.
Once they were gone, Bryn turned back to Lady Enis. “What does Prince Anter think of the attacks?”
She answered measuredly, “He doesn’t believe it’s a coincidence that strange creatures appear at the same time as so much turmoil in the Eyrie.”
“You’re speaking of Mars’s coronation?” Bryn asked.
Lady Enis gave a small nod. “Among other things, including King Aleth’s poor health in the Baersladen and what that will mean for its future. But yes, the Mirien is the most powerful kingdom in the Eyrie; everyone is waiting to see how its people will fare under Mars’s rule. The rumors that Mars intends to allow magic have been met with mixed opinions even here in Vil-Kevi, where we’ve practiced magic for generations.”
“Why would the forest folk oppose magic?” Saraj asked.
“Because of the wolf attacks. Some say they are caused by dark magic meant to weaken the Outlands. Perhaps even from Mirien.”
“Mars would never do such a thing!” Bryn argued. “He knows nothing of magic himself; it will be years before he and his advisors even settle on the right path forward to introduce magic to the common folk.”
Lady Enis folded her hands. “You don’t have to convince me, Lady Bryn. The royal forest families of Vil-Kevi and Vil-Rossengard will support King Mars. We wish to squelch these superstitious rumors as much as you do.”
Bryn was relieved to hear they would have the support of the forest kingdoms. The Eyrie was rapidly becoming divided on the subject of magic, and they needed all the allies they could get. “We’ll give you one of the wolf carcasses for Prince Anter,” Bryn assured her. “And share any insights we might glean from our own investigations.”
Rangar soon rejoined them, and they spent the remainder of the evening discussing the political changes with Lady Enis before retiring to their rooms. Bryn tossed and turned all night until Rangar folded her into his arms, where she at last surrendered to sleep. But her dreams were of wolves and a wind so fierce it kept them from returning to the Baersladen.
The following day, the road led them high into the mountains. They crossed the Baersladen border as a heavy snow began to fall. Bryn joined Saraj and Valenden in the carriage while Rangar hunched under his bearskin cloak to drive the horses. As they crested the pass, Bryn tried to spot the ocean in the distance, but the snow was falling so hard she could barely see ten feet ahead.
There were no inns in the remote mountains, so they had to spend the night in the carriage, huddled around a fire Rangar had started in a silver tin, eating the last of the food Saraj packed. When Bryn woke in the morning, squeezed onto a carriage bench with Rangar, she was relieved to see the storm had calmed. A blue sky now stretched over the snow-blanketed mountains, giving way to the shimmering ocean in the distance. When she squinted, she could see the squat tower of Barendur Hold far down along the coast.
“We’re almost home,” she breathed as a rush of joy overcame her.
But Rangar’s mood was darker as he peered down at the castle. “If my father is as ill as we’ve been told, that means my aunt will be in charge. I don’t know how she’ll respond to my return. There might be some people at the Hold that still believe I committed Trei’s murder.”
“Your aunt won’t put you back in chains, surely,” Bryn insisted, though worry crept into her voice. Mage Marna was a fair woman but exceedingly tough; she wouldn’t take sympathy on Rangar only because he was her nephew. “Valenden sent the letter explaining Broderick’s guilt.”
“But without evidence, it’s only our word.”
