My father stepped up beside me, placing one weathered hand on my shoulder. “Let her feel your weight and don’t yank the reins unless you want to argue with something ten times your size.”
I stared at the saddle, at the unfamiliar leather, the stirrups that looked too far apart.
“But—”
“You’ll do fine,” he said, low and sure. “And if not, you’ll learn fast. Now give us a hug, darling.”
I gave him a hug, being very cautious around his crutch, feeling how tense his body was under all the reassurance he was projecting. Tegil’s awkward teenage hug was a mixture of bone-crushing intensity and hesitant pats on the back. My magic told me that, just like my father, he was already grieving my loss more keenly than he was letting on.
My mother’s kiss, soft as a feather, landed on my temple, followed by a hug that stole my breath away. “Keep your chin up and shoulders back, Isca. They wantyouto straighten out royalty. Don’t forget that. Show them what I made.”
“You made a bundle of nerves with a big mouth,” I replied with a teary-eyed grin.
“And I’d do it again,” she whispered, pulling me into a quick, fierce hug. “Now go.”
My hands shook as one of the riders helped me climb awkwardly onto the mare’s back. The horse shifted once beneath me but quickly relaxed.
Thank the gods for the small mercy of a docile beast.
I looked at my family one last time. My father was silent, with a small, steady smile gracing his face. Tegil stood behind him, his youthful face clenched as if he was bracing for impact. My mother’s hands were folded close across her heart, eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and fear.
They were my reason.
They were my entire world. And I was being forced to abandon them for a task that had nothing to do with the people I loved, and everything to do with a world I wasn’t sure even wanted me in it.
A brisk wind whipped across my face as I tried to relax on my mount. A sense of foreboding, a premonition as cold as the wind, warned me of the hardship to come.
Then, a barely perceptible movement of the caravan leader’s hand sent the group into motion. The gates leading away from Caervorn’s ruinsgroaned open, iron hinges shrieking into the morning air. The unfamiliar, empty road loomed ahead.
And just like that, we began to move. Home blurred in the distance, obscured by the lingering mist and the sound of hoofbeats. Everything I’d ever known was disappearing behind me, step by step.
Who was I without my brother’s quiet faith? Without my mother’s disapproving glares and my father’s silent presence that spoke volumes without a word?
My fingers found the little pocket I’d stitched into my inner sleeve late last night. I slipped my hand inside, brushing the edges of the wooden osprey Tegil had carved.
In this new dress, riding a horse for the first time in my life, I already felt foreign. The moment I’d agreed to this outlandish mission in Chancellor Maeron’s office, the change had started. Over the past few days while preparing for this trip, piece by piece of who I was had already started to detach.
I wasn’t remotely qualified to act as a diplomat. Chancellor Maeron hadn’t even told me the princes’ names. But he had chosenme, and someone like him didn’t make decisions, didn’t spend as much coin as he had without reason.
To reach the chancellor’s level, you had to be rich, powerful, and incredibly intelligent. If a person like him believed in me, I had to at least try to believe in myself.
As Caervorn disappeared, rooftops faded into gray specks, their outlines were already softening like memories. The saddle creaked under my weight, its stiff leather unfamiliar and cold beneath my palms. My tears were shed privately, drowned out by the clomping of hooves.
Would they still recognize me when—or if—I returned? Worse, would I still recognize myself?
Chapter 11
Isca
Horseback riding came more naturally to me than I’d expected. On the first day, I gripped the reins so hard my fingers could barely open when we stopped to rest. By the second, I was using small amounts of magic to relax and bond with the mare they’d loaned me. Was it cheating? Maybe. But the revelation that my magic worked on animals made the whole experience worthwhile. Manipulating my horse had required less effort than it would’ve taken to influence a person, so it didn’t leave me feeling drained—staying in the saddle all day did enough of that.
By the time we reached Darreth’s borders, I was sore in places I hadn’t known existed. Five days in the saddle had left me with a spine that felt like it was breaking into fragments of gravel. Every shifting trot sent a protest through my aching thighs and buttocks. Though I tried to be discreet, the guards probably saw me wince with pain every time we stopped to rest.
There hadn’t been a single other woman on this journey. With all the talk about my virginity, I’d expected the Assembly to send a female companion for the trip. I quickly understood, however, that the chancellor had presented me to the mundane caravan guards as a much more formidable mage than I truly was.
Every other word was, “Lady Mage,” and “Yes, mistress.” My natural inclination was to tell them their titles and deference weren’t necessary, but the ever-present threat of violence in my world made the lie a comforting shield.
Though most days I felt utterly alone, despite the eight others traveling with me, at least one of my companions made the journey bearable. Young Rhotri, a bright-eyed guardsman barely out of boyhood, had taken to chatting with me after the first day. He had the same easy smile and kind eyes as my brother.
