“I notice you didn’t answer my question, Omar. What would Jerrald say about skipping lessons set by your mentor?”
“What would Jerry say about flirting instead of running drills?” he shot back. It was true, there had been giggles amid that morning’s drills, which Jerrald had commanded we do in full armor with real blades.
At my frown, Omar seemed to sense it was time to wrap up the conversation. He spurred the borrowed brown horse to a trot and called over his shoulder, “I’ll meditate tonight. Tomorrow morning, we do fire!”
The day was fine with a true autumn chill in the air. Draw had found me a simple brown jacket to wear over my hunting tunic and pants. The war would end far before winter. I didn’t necessarily want to face snow in Landsome without waterproof boots and my trusty ski jacket, but the turn in weather was a reminder that I wasn’t staying with Draw indefinitely.
He angled his horse to close the gap Omar had left between us.
I grumbled, “This is too much for an apprentice witch. I haven’t even finished my own training.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think you’re quite magical.” His olive eyes lingered on my lips, and I smiled, mollified.
As we rode, the road became cluttered with stalled riders. I scanned ahead, but it seemed those directly in front of us were as confused as we were.
“Let’s move up the column,” Draw said. “Follow me.”
His horse left the trail and slid through the woods. Peanut Butter was less enthused to leave the cluster of horses in the stalled column, but with some firm urging he jogged at the edge of the woods.
I passed a wagon where Lu, Denise, and Meg sat, cards spread on top of the box in front of them.
“What’s going on, Dottie?” Lu called. Her red hair was tucked neatly under a scarf to keep the road dust off her curls.
“I’ll let you know what I find out,” I shouted back.
Ahead, Draw emerged back onto the road. A series of horses and their riders were clustered, looking at something on the ground. A prickle went up my back.Did someone fall off their horse?
Queen Elthra sat atop her tall white mount in her blue riding outfit. I noted immediately that Ironclaw was absent, and Sir Aaron Key had his hand on his sword as he scanned the trees.
At once the sunny autumn afternoon felt cooler, the forest shadowed in a way it hadn’t been a moment ago. I had a sense of foreboding as Peanut Butter joined the crowd.
There was a body. His clothing marked him as a soldier in the queen’s army. The face was brutally bashed, the only identifiers his mess of silky brown hair, the contrast entirely off-putting.
Ariana was dismounted and at the man’s side, searching his pockets. Of all those present, I wondered how the job of searching a corpse could have possibly fallen to the queen’s lady-in-waiting. Jerrald was off his horse as well, checking the prints and scrapes on the ground, reading it in some way.
“Who is it?” Queen Elthra demanded. Whereas I felt myself shrink at the sight of the dead man, her eyes were fiery as if she’d match any adversary wound for wound.
Meg arrived on foot behind me, breathless, her twin braids mussed from the wind of her run. She paused at the edge of the crowd next to a soldier who easily dwarfed her. The moment she saw the body, she dashed forward. The horses stirred uneasily at the disturbance, but she paid them no mind.
“Westly?” Meg was still six feet from the body, but she dropped to her knees in the dirt, grief overcoming her.
I shook my own shock off and slipped down Peanut Butter’s side, handing the reins to a random rider, and darted to Meg. All of this was wrong. I didn’t know Westly well, but Meg was wholly dedicated to him. They actually seemed in love, not merely infatuated.
Her mouth hung open as she sobbed but faltered when I put an arm around her. “Dottie! Y-you said he would be okay.”
“Meg—” I was at a loss for words. I had been prepared to console her the best I could, but Meg was full of grief, not aware of what she was saying. Yet tears pricked my eyes, my guilt already surfacing.
“I told him you said there would be no surprise attacks on the road,” Meg cried.
I licked my lips, aware the circle around us was quiet. I didn’t know where to start. She was right. I had told her Westly would be safe.
“Calm yourself, Meg,” Ariana said from her place at the body’s side. “I do not believe this is your Westly though it does seem to be someone from his squad.” As the man wouldn’t have been able to read, she held aloft his company token, a small copper piece stamped with a number system of some kind.
The news that one of Westly’s squad had been brutally murdered didn’t seem to lighten Meg’s agony. She buried her face in her hands, and I rubbed her shoulder again, looking at the man’s boots so as to not see his battered face.
My mind pored through the chapters in book five. Nothing like this happened. Did that mean it just wasn’t mentioned on the page, or was this something new from the television adaption? Either way, it was dawning on me that perhaps I had played a role in ending someone’s life.
Jerrald eyed me before reclaiming the conversation that must have been taking place before Meg and I commandeered it. “Your Grace, this man was left purposefully on our trail,” Jerrald said. “There’s no blood on the ground. The man was killed, then moved into our path. We’re not alone in these woods. We need to continue on.”
