Unlike the others, they’re willing to talk to me.
They’re obviously experienced soldiers, but I don’t think they’re too much older than Tycho. Sephran is the taller of the two, with ruddy cheeks and sand-colored hair, along with broad shoulders and a muscled frame that could be intimidating if he weren’t so quick to smile. At his side, Malin is leaner, more compact, with thick black hair, tan skin, and sharp eyes that remind me of a fox. The language barrier makes it tough to beentirelysure, but I think they’re close friends. Between the two of them, only Malin knows any Syssalah, but we’ve made do. I appreciate that they tryat all.
“Malin.” I point ahead, at where the prince and the officers have stopped. “Did something happen?”
He shakes his head. “No. Prince Rhen sends soldier to look . . .” The words trail off as he runs out of words he knows. He points ahead and makes a circle with his hand. “Tolook.”
“To look at what?” I say.
“To look at . . .” He blows a breath out through his teeth, then swears, then turns to Sephran, asking for help, searching for a word.
This is how every conversation goes. I keep waiting for them to run out of patience with me, but so far, they haven’t.
Malin finally looks back at me. “Big house? House for king?”
“Castle?” I guess.
He snaps his fingers at me and nods. “Castle.Look at castle. For scravers.”
“Are they there?”
“Don’t know. Look first.” Then he taps his chest and points again. “We go after. Yes?”
I nod fiercely, because every time we reach this point in a conversation, it feels like we’ve solved a puzzle. “Yes. I understand.” But my heart is pounding, and I want to stand up on the wagon bench again. Everyone is wary of the scravers and whether the attack is a warning of more to come—and I am, too. But my own thoughts are also fixed on what’s to come forme.
“Are we that close to Ironrose Castle?” I say.
Malin nods. “Over . . .” he begins, then frowns, miming the motion of going over something. “Over mountain?” He points ahead.
“Over the hill,” I say.
Some nearby soldiers are paying attention to this exchange, and one of them calls something snide, and the others laugh darkly. I frown, wondering how this will go. But Malin rolls his eyes and offers them a rude gesture.
A little glow flares in my heart. I’ve never really had any friends beyond Callyn. Aside from Tycho, I thought I’d be so alone here. When another soldier calls something else, Sephran scoffs and tells him to stop being an asshole, and it makes me smile.
Sephran notices, and he smiles back. “Oh, you understandthat,” he says in Emberish.
When I say, “Yes,” his smile turns into a grin.
The sky is gradually lightening overhead, and at the top of the hill, some of the soldiers begin to separate from the others. It takes me a moment to realize that Tycho has disappeared, but I search theshadowed sea of soldiers to find him retrieving one of the spare horses from the back of the supply line. Eventually, he trots back to where I’m waiting, leading the second horse alongside Mercy. Blood still clings to his armor, but he splashed water on his face before we left, because his skin is clear, his blond hair only bearing a few streaks now. He takes in Malin and Sephran by my side and gives them both a nod, but his gaze settles on me.
“They’ve sent a scout down to Ironrose,” he says, confirming what Malin told me. “But Prince Rhen doesn’t suspect anything. We’ve had no sign of trouble for hours, and it would’ve been easier to attack when we were out in the open, especially in the dark. The castle grounds are surrounded by sentry stations with lookouts. It would be challenging for even a lone scraver to approach unseen. Now that it’s sunrise, the soldiers will head for the barracks, but I’m to take you to the Shield House so you can get your bearings.”
I don’t know what the Shield House is, but before I can ask, Tycho rides close to the wagon, and holds out the reins to the horse he’s brought me. Behind me, officers must be receiving orders, because shouts call down through the waiting soldiers, and they begin to move into formation again.
I inhale sharply, because I wasn’t prepared for such an abrupt change in course. But everyone else is moving, and I don’t want to cause a delay. I use the side of the wagon to climb onto the waiting horse, then tie my crutches to the saddle where a bow usually hangs. The horse must feel my tension, because he sidesteps anxiously, and I grab hold of the saddle, worried I’ll fall.
“Steady.” Tycho takes one of the reins back. “Just let your legs hang. I’ll lead.”
I flush, wishing I didn’t look incompetent on top of everything else. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You’ll learn.” He clucks to the horses and they start forward.
At my back, there’s a low rumble of conversation, and then Sephran calls, “Hey, Archer.”
He’s called me that before, and the nickname makes the glow in my heart grow warmer. When I turn, he’s got a friendly smile and a hand lifted in a gesture of farewell. But instead of saying anything close togoodbye, Sephran carefully and clearly pronounces the words in Syssalah to tell me to suck a piece of horseshit.
If anything could distract me from the scraver attack and my new position, it’s that. Tycho jerks the horses to a halt and whips his head around.
