“Yes, sir.” Malin draws up his reins. “I’ll let the others know.”
When we reach Twinwatch, I draft a brief message while the others stand guard. I wish I had my old seal from when I rode courier so Grey would havesomeway to verify it. As it is, the message itself is suspicious as hell, and I hope he can see through the words.
Father,
Mother tried to send you a message, but she’s worried you didn’t receive it. It may be best to send word to let her know. I will return soon, as promised.You’ll be pleased to know I saw Hawk from Rillisk on my journey. He asked after your knee, and I assured him you had no lasting complaints.
Be well,
Tycho
MotherandFatherwere code words for the king and queen.
Hawkwas the name Grey used when he was hiding in Rillisk years ago, when we first met. When he was discovered, he was shot in the knee by a guardsman who’s been dead for years. Hardlyanyoneknows those details, and it’s the only thing I could think to include that would be innocuous enough to ignore but would definitely convince him that this letter came from me.
I address the letter to Noah, because he should’ve made it to Ironrose by now. It’s a risk, because I don’t know for sure, but a letter to the palace physician is a lot less interesting than a missive sent directly to theking. A curious soldier might not even care enough to open it. Either way, this is the best I can do. I seal the note with wax, hand it to the waiting captain, and say a prayer to fate that it makes it to Grey. Then we ride out.
It’s only been a day, but exhaustion is already looming.
The stop at the outpost didn’t take long, but we still don’t ride into Willminton until after dark. We gave up our tight formation hours ago, and by the time we ride through the city gates, we’ve turned into a loose pack that unconsciously breaks into two halves: me and Malin out in front, Sephran, Jax, and Leo coming up from behind. It’s not intentional— at least, I don’t think it is— but itfeelsdeliberate.
As we ride through the streets, I expect to find a hum of tension and unease in town, with suspicious glances flicking our way at everyturn. Instead, Willminton seems sleepy and disinterested, the people going about their nightly duties quietly.
“You’re from up this way, aren’t you?” I say to Malin, remembering a story he once told me.
He nods. “Originally, yeah. My father used to be the captain of the army outpost a few miles northwest.” He gestures toward the horizon. “I used to come up here anytime I had leave.”
“Not anymore?”
He shakes his head. “Not in years. They shut down the outpost after the war was over. Not much need to guard the border after that. My father was reassigned to the south, near Castellan Bay, so he and my mother had to move. It’s a three- day ride, so I don’t get down there as much.”
Interesting.I wonder if that’s why Rhen suggested sending a regiment up here. Combined with the dead courier, a shiver goes up my spine. Not just because of Truthbringers or scravers. Because I remember the war. I was only fifteen, but the world seemed to turn upside down all at once. Grey and Lia Mara hoped for a peaceful resolution, but I went from wielding a pitchfork to wearing armor in a matter of months. I knew how much dissension and hostility were growing on both sides of the border.
I worry that it’s happening again, and Grey’s return is simply a bandage slapped over a festering wound.
“Is it always this quiet?” I say to Malin.
“Pretty much.” He grins. “I told you I spent my time shoveling manure and learning Syssalah from prisoners. You think I would’ve been doing that if there were anything else to do?”
I smile and intend to offer some gentle ribbing in return, but low voices behind us catch my attention. It’s the other three, and whatever they’re saying must be amusing, because they’re laughing under their breath. The instant I glance back over my shoulder, they all go silent and stony- faced.
Well, not all of them. It’s mostly Sephran. But Jax loses the smile. Leo glances between them and sobers.
I inwardly sigh. Beside me, Malin’s easy manner has evaporated, a scowl replacing his smile.
A good night’s sleep will probably help everyone. Maybe we’ll be able to find an inn or a boarding house with private rooms.
But no. The boarding house is full, and the inn only hasoneroom available. One bed, one chair, one window. A small hearth that’s cold.
When I scowl about it, the innkeeper shrugs at me. “Forgive me, my lord. We’re coming into the harvest season. A lot of workers have come up from the south.” He pauses, jingling the coins in his palm. “A few of them might be convinced to double up for the night.” Another pause. “For a price.”
Silver hell. I don’t want to take a room from a laborer, but I also don’t want to sleep on a hard wooden floor if I don’t have to. Then again, I remember a time in my life when I would’ve been happy to share a room if it meant an extra coin in my pocket.
I toss another two silvers at the innkeeper. “See if anyone is interested,” I say. Then I ask him to make sure a fire is laid before midnight, and we head for the closest tavern— which has the advantage of being a short walk down the road.
When we push through the heavy wooden doors, we’re greeted by a low hum of conversation that gradually goes quiet. If we were ignored during our walk through town, we’re not ignored here. Back at the inn, Malin asked if we should leave our weapons and armor, but I was still too spooked by what happened to the courier and what we might find. But this is a sleepy town, and it’s clear that five heavily armed soldiers walking into a tavern is unusual. Now that two dozen pairs of eyes have turned to stare at us, I’m regretting my choice.
But then the barkeep slaps the counter and whistles through histeeth. “Is that Gregor’s boy, finally back after all these years? How’s your da? Still keeping well?” Without waiting for an answer, he turns his head and calls over his shoulder to one of the barmaids. “Look here, Wenda! Your long- lost love is back.”
