“Tycho!” he calls. “We were starting to wonder if you were coming back.”
“I missed you too, Captain,” I call. Mercy paws at the ground.
He grins. “Do you need an escort?”
They’re required to ask every time. I’ve only accepted once, about five months ago, not long after the Uprising. A man tracked me all the way to the border and tried to cut my hands off in the middle of the night. I’m not a magesmith like the king, but I wear rings of Iishellasan steel—metal that’s infused with magical properties. They were gifts from Grey to afford me some protection when I carry messages between countries. I was able to fight the thief off and get away, but he got closer than anyone else ever had.
Today, I just want to get home. I shake my head. “I know the way.”
He smiles and nods and waves me through. I slip the rein and cluck my tongue and Mercy takes off, flattening into a gallop.
“Not too fast,” I murmur under the wind, and she flicks an ear in my direction. The mud is thicker here, still half frozen in spots, and I don’t need Mercy to take a wrong step. I don’t want to be careless when we’re this close to home—but still hours away. This guard station is more remote, blocking one of the lesser-used passages into Syhl Shallow, because I like to stay off the beaten path.
I twitch the reins, but Mercy tugs right back and gallops on.
I smile. “All right. Another few minutes.” Her stride eats up the miles, until the tree covering thickens, the road narrowing. The snow hasn’t fully melted here, along the path where the leaves keep the ground in shadow. Branches begin to whip at my arms.
Now I really do draw back on the reins. Mercy is blowing hard, but she slows to a canter, then a reluctant trot. In hand, she’s as docile as a children’s pony, but when I’m on her back, she always seems to have a lot ofopinions. Anyone else might find her exhausting, but it gives me something to focus on when I make the long journey between kingdom and queendom. I found Mercy at the bidders’ market two years ago, and Nolla Verin, the queen’s sister, burst out laughing whenI made a bid. The mare was razor thin, covered in welts, and lame in two hooves.
“You’ll have to put that one out of its misery,” Nolla Verin told me. “I thought Grey said you have a good eye for horses.”
“I do,” I said.
I’ve never regretted it for a second.
“Whoa,” I say softly as Mercy stomps through the mud. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to throw—”
Steelplinksagainst a rock, Mercy stumbles, and I sigh.
Silver hell.
“A shoe,” I finish.
I split an apple with Mercy while we walk. It’s the last of the food I had in my pack, which wasn’t a bother when I thought I’d be eating a hot dinner in the palace.
We’ve been walking for an hour though, with no sign of … anyone. There are a few small towns out this way, like Hightree and Briarlock, but I’m not familiar with them. Usually at this point in my journey, I’m galloping through, eager to get home.
Clouds have rolled in overhead, and snow flurries trickle down through the trees. Mercy blows a long breath out in a snort.
“This is your own fault,” I say. “I have no idea where we’re going to find a blacksmith.” I bite a piece off the apple and feed her the rest.
Now that I’m not on her back, she plods along beside me like a loyal hound, the end of her reins looped around my wrist. The woods here are dense and thick with shadows, so I’ve unbound my quiver and bow from the saddle to string across my back. A sword and dagger hang from my belt, but I’d rather handle thieves from a distance if I have the option.
If I don’t find a blacksmith soon, I’ll need the bow to catch myself some dinner.
I sigh as loudly as Mercy. Despite the darkening cloud cover, I can tell the sun is still high overhead. It must be midafternoon by now. If I get desperate I’ll pull the other shoe and try to ride lightly back to the palace. What I carry is too important to risk sleeping in the woods overnight.
I rub behind her ears, her brown fur soft under my fingers. “We’ll give it one more hour. Deal?”
She leans into my hand. Answer enough, I suppose.
The snow begins to pick up, and I draw up the hood of my cloak. Maybe half an hour.
Somewhere off to my left, a branch snaps, and I whip my head around, a hand going automatically to my bow. The snow doesn’t allow me to see too far into the woods, so I nock an arrow and wait for motion.
Nothing is there—but I feelsomething. I turn slowly, my eyes watching for a threat. I feel for the power in my rings. One allows forseeking, a kind of magic that’s useful if I need to find food or water. Just now, I send power into the ground, seeking another person.
Before it gets far, Mercy jerks her head up and utters a low whicker. That means she hears another horse.
