She scrubbed off the last of the salt from her skin and opened the wardrobe. This was no journey for delicate dresses, so she chose tall boots, a pair of form-fitting pants, and a long sleeve tunic tucked beneath a leather corset that she didn’t remember being in the armoire before. Securing the clasp of her cloak, she scurried down to the courtyard in the purple haze of twilight, with Nocthar not far behind.
Eight horses stood, their riders standing at attention beside them as Asterious marched through their midst. He was back in his usual dark-colored princely attire, black armor, and black cloak.
He greeted his riders—the core four plus two of the scouts from the meeting, though Wryan was distanced from the rest. “Today we set out with one mission—to save this land from darkness from which I fear there is no return. You have been faithful and courageous and followed me to the deepest pits of hell. So I ask you to ride into the darkness one more time at my side, but I will not command it. And I will think no less of you should you decide not to. This is your final chance to decide.”
One by one, they pledged their allegiance to the prince with a hand to their chest. “You have our strength and our loyalty, Prince Asterious.” They each offered their oath, until it came to Wryan, who begrudgingly gestured his pledge and remained silent, as though he was waiting for something more as he glared from his post. Asterious then turned to face Caramyn, but he still spoke to the group. “Time is of the utmost importance, butbefore we set out, an apology is in order.” He waved Wyran over and called his name, his voice darkening.
Wryan sauntered over, each step slow and unhurried, as his eyes cut into Caramyn with each step. He faced her, looking down ever so slightly, as he was not much taller.
“Ask her forgiveness.” Asterious demanded. Just as Wryan opened his mouth, the prince added, his voice a tempered growl. “On your knees.”
Wyran’s cold stare flicked to the prince and then back to her in a way that made Caramyn shudder. As he lowered himself to kneel before her, he watched her with shifting eyes that made her feel like he would drive a knife in her back the next chance he got. “I’m sincerely regretful of my actions, Lady Caramyn. I made a grave mistake. And I ask for your forgiveness.”
Caramyn glanced at Asterious for reassurance. He leaned in close and whispered to only her. “It is yours to give or withhold,” he said. “He’s only coming with us because I don’t trust him anywhere else.”
She drew a breath, prepared to say the words but never really having thought about whether she meant them or not. She wasn’t quite sure that she’d ever extended grace to anyone before. “I will forgive you, Wryan,” she said coldly. “But I will not easily forget.”
Wryan stood to his feet as Asterious gave his approval. “Nor will I, Milady.”
Asterious mounted his horse and everyone else followed. Caramyn had barely put a foot in the stirrup before he gave the orders. “All right then. No more pleasantries. We don’t have a second more to waste. Move out.”
The next day was a blur, steadily cantering across landscapes, pushing the horses to their limits alongside Asterious and his core four soldiers, Leejia, and the other scout, Starke. It wasn’t lost on Caramyn how Wryan watched her, and how Asterious glared at him often. Caramyn clutched Frasya’s tangled mane in her fingers, praying the mare would have the heart to forgive her for this arduous journey later. And with each passing hour, she worried Sinevia had already reached the Woods.
She often thought of how it would feel entering the Woods once more, to stand against its greatest threat yet, no longer burdened by the weight of her darkness but ready to use it as her strength.
The first night when they stopped to rest, she was still recovering from the exhausting strain so much traveling had put on her body, and she fell asleep without a word to anyone after they shared a small meal around a fire.
The second night, she finally felt more rested and lively, and she joined the group around the fire. Asterious had sent Wyran to gather firewood while he caught up on sleep Caramyn was sure he desperately needed. So, for the first time, she was alone with his soldiers and scouts, and was content to quietly listen to them joke and jeer amongst one another. But to her surprise, Leejia asked her a question, despite them having never spoken before.
“Caramyn, if I may, what led you to hide out in the Shadow Woods? How did such a place become your refuge when everyone knows the stories. Weren’t you afraid?”
She lingered at the rim of her cup as she brought the drink to her lips. She took a sip, then answered. “I was afraid. But I was more afraid of the people outside of the Woods. I’d seen what they would do, and in comparison, the Shadows didn’t seem so bad.” She paused, staring at the fire flickering as she fought back painful memories. “But also...my mother told me the witch she sought to heal me in her womb lived deep within the Woods before it became the bridge between our realm and the Veil. So, it was the only place I knew to go. I ran straight there—almost by instinct. Like it was the only other place I had any connection to outside the cage that was my village.” She glanced down at the ground in disbelief that she had shared something so personal with so many people at once. And in disbelief at how liberating it felt to say it all out loud.
When she glanced back up, the others leaned in, wearing focused expressions as they huddled beneath blankets and cloaks. Leejia straightened her broad shoulders and brushed back a loose strand of blonde hair from her single braid that fell to the unshaven side of her head. “You are braver than all of us put together. Don’t be afraid to talk about what you’ve overcome.”
Tyrios nodded, and Gariel and Riven followed suit.
“May we all be so fearless when we face the Woods again.” It was Gariel who spoke, and then they clinked their pints together. A shy smile tugged at Caramyn’s lips. For the first time, she could imagine what it felt like to have friends. And it felt like the comforting warmth of her fur cloak against her skin.
As the fire dwindled to embers, Wryan returned with water and doused it to completion. The men retreated to theirscattered sleeping bags, but Leejia stood and placed a hand on Caramyn’s shoulder.
“A kuhrissi does not fear the darkness, for the darkness is her protection. It covers her, so that her enemies cannot find her.”
Caramyn looked up at the tall woman, startled. “How do you know that word?”
“I suppose Asterious hasn’t had time to tell you I’m Silverean. I grew up in the Spines, but I left because I hate the cold…and the Frostlords.” She chuckled with a shrug of her shoulders. “And then I realized the King below the mountains was even worse…so, I became one of his spies in hopes to infiltrate him from the inside.”
“And you followed Asterious because you believe he might be able to restore the balance of magic to the land?”
“I followed him because I have no doubt of it.” She patted Caramyn’s shoulder, her sideways smirk growing as she walked to her sleeping spot without another word.
Then it was just Caramyn alone in the dark, the remains of the fire smoldering before her up to the stars that glittered above. She tilted her head back to look at them and noticed Nocthar’s silhouette perched in a dead branch a few feet away, creating the perfect illustration of what Leejia had told her. His black feathers camouflaged him perfectly against the night sky, and if she were anyone else, she wouldn’t have noticed him. Then her gaze adjusted, and she followed the faint light of the moon, which was nothing more than a waning sliver in the dark.
53
One Horse
Asterious
