Shades of navy ebb into pitch darkness. My lower back and legs are sore from the fast pace. Despite my growing ache, I will not fall behind. I refuse to show the Elvarrans that I am weak. My stomach rumbles with hunger as I await our destination.
“Here.” I hear a voice to my right. “Water?” Taryn holds out a canteen to me.
I take it from her, gulping down water to soothe my burning throat. “Thank you.” I pass the canteen back to her.
“You kept up better than I expected,” she comments, a playful gleam in her eye.
“Thanks…?” I say slowly, unsure if it’s a compliment or an insult.
When I turn my attention forward again, I spot a fire and some tents in the distance. My heart leaps at the thought of rest. The cavalry slows as it heads into camp, transitioning from a gallop to a trot. I exhale a long breath of relief as I pull my horse to a stop, shaking out my sore hands.
Taryn stops at the camp, swinging her leg over her horse and dismounting. I do the same, releasing my foot and swinging my leg over. When my feet hit the ground, my legs wobble like a newborn foal. Pain and soreness creep into my muscles, and each movement feels heavy.
“I’m going to be sore in the morning…” I say under my breath.
“You’ll get used to it.” Taryn smiles at me, taking my horse’s reins and tying it to a post.
She signals for me to follow her. We walk across the camp toward the large tent in the center. Taryn reaches up and opens the flap, allowing me to enter. She closes the tent behind me, sealing me inside.
I see Wrath and Barnham discussing something by the table, with several pieces of parchment and maps scattered around it. I avoid them, looking down to assess my hands. My knuckles are red from the wind. The bruises from Margaret’s lessons are still lingering on my skin. It would be best to get some gloves to save my hands from more damage.
“Raelys.”
Turning, my shoulder bumps into Wrath’s chest.
“What is it?” His question is more of a demand.
“I’m—” I stop myself. I don’t want Wrath to use his magic to force my words from me. “I need some gloves, that’s all, and some food,” I tell him the truth.
Wrath snatches my hand, pulling it close to inspect the damage on my skin. As his thumb lightly brushes my bruise, the mark on my arm ignites with a spark. It comes alive by histouch, as if calling to return home. Embarrassed by the scars that mar my skin, I quickly pull away, covering the back of my hand with my palm as I cast my eyes to the ground.
“I will make arrangements; food will be here soon.” As he walks away, Wrath calls over his shoulder, “Then you should rest for tomorrow.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The following morning,as I mount my horse and patiently wait for the caravan to take off, I hear the sound of approaching hoofbeats to my right. Wrath pulls his horse beside mine. His armor bears several marks, each a testament to the numerous battles he’s survived. A heavy fur-lined cloak drapes over his shoulders, his left hand resting lazily on the hilt of his sword.
I am about to speak when he pulls off his leather gloves and extends them to me. The gesture catches me slightly off guard, and I stare at them momentarily before reaching out. “Thank you,” I say softly.
His gaze lowers to my hands. A flush of embarrassment rips through me as I pull on the gloves. I know he’s looking at the scars and bruises. Everyone stares at them. I hate the marks Margaret left on my skin; they are ghastly and decrepit. Once the gloves conceal my insecurity, I push out a quick breath of relief.
Wrath says nothing as he rides off, the army following in his wake.
The group maintains a swift and unforgiving pace, causingthe soreness in my legs from yesterday to resurface with a vengeful ache. As I endure the discomfort, I take in the surroundings, wondering where we are. The flat and open field looked identical to the previous day’s passing landscape, leading me to believe we’d made no progress. I wipe the sweat from my brow, the sun’s unforgiving rays beating down on us without the cover of trees. Taryn slows her pace to match mine, a smile on her face as she takes in my state.
“Hello, Taryn.”
“How are we feeling?” she asks, seemingly more friendly than yesterday.
“Sore.” I deadpan. “Where are we?”
“Still in the flatlands,” she replies. “The lack of water makes it difficult to grow anything; the soil is dry, and the summers are quite challenging to shelter from. Humans abandoned trying to inhabit these lands a long time ago. Therefore, it makes a good traveling route for us.”
“Interesting…” I say under my breath, looking at the land.
Taryn snickers beside me. “You’ve never traveled, Princess?”
“I have not.”
