It had been three days since they’d ridden out of Nowosmont on a pair of horses Mel Hill procured, carrying false papers she’d also managed to obtain on extremely short notice. The whole thing reeked of suspicion, but she’d taken him east, as promised. And if Isahn’s knowledge of the northern kingdom hadn’t been fucked with by whatever magic the damned sensory mages used on him, he was fairly certain they were no more than a day’s ride from Gramenia.
Worst-case scenario, he could make a break for it. She’d given him his papers for safekeeping. They proclaimed Isahn to be Einarr Strom from the Principality of Newand, which was fucking bizarre, seeing as that was the name he’d used while following his uncle into Gramenia before being captured by Domossan spies, or whatever the fates had occurred.
During their second night on the road, Isahn had confronted his companion on the matter... with a knife of tempered ice held to her neck. She’d produced one of her own, sharpened steel, and snuck it up to his throat before he could react. Mel Hill, the former Domossan legionary, who went by her surname, reminded Isahn they’d spoken many times before his memory was erased. He’d forgotten about the night she’d sent off a note to a friend through a sympathetic guard.
“You requested your own damn name,” she’d said.
It made enough sense.
“Do you have anyone you need to reach out to when we get to the next town? We’ll be in Nevellium soon.”
Isahn nodded as he followed Hill off the bridge and they turned south. “I have a sister.”
The woman’s shoulders relaxed minutely, probably happy to learn there was someone on the other side.
“I’ll send a letter letting her know I’ll be home in about a week and a half.”
Mel Hill nodded. “So, just the one sibling?”
“Yes, just Solaelia,” Isahn was happy to focus on a topic that was easy to remember, easy to discuss. He told Hill about how his parents had passed under suspicious circumstances, and why he was following his shifty Uncle Peros in the first place.
Hill confirmed Isahn had already told her that bit, a few weeks back.
A terrible idea struck. What if Peros had gotten one over on him, and this “savior” was an assassin who intended to kill him and his sister once she had them together? He’d need to stay on guard until he made a determination.
“What about you?” he asked lightly. “Any siblings?”
“None that I know of, but it’s possible. My father was a legionary; died before I was born. My parents weren’t wed, you know?”
Isahn bobbed his head.A bastard. Baseborn.He understood. Life couldn’t have been easy for her if Domos was anything like Selwas. Some antiquated ideals were tough to shake, even in a country as progressive as his. Women could hold titles in their own right, and loving couples of the same gender were welcome to solidify unions through handfasting, but people still looked down on unwed mothers. It was shameful. “Is that why you’re hitting the road?”
“Precisely. No prospects here, so I thought I’d see if I can’t catch others outside of Nowosmont.”
“Prospects like eligible bachelors or bachelorettes? Or prospects like employment?”
“The former, mainly,” she laughed.
The town of Nevellium ushered them through with its low-lying homes and terra cotta roofs. Hill claimed she had friends on the south side of the city.
Friends in high places, he noted as they rode up the drive to a sprawling villa—that’s what they called estates in the north—larger than the one they’d escaped.
“You’re not having me thrown in another cell, are you?”
“No. I’m not. But, I do need you to wait here while I speak with them.” Hill dismounted. “Please?”
“Sure.” Isahn swung down from his mount and took both sets of reins as Mel Hill sauntered up to the door.
A man who was likely a servant chatted with her briefly. Isahn was too far away to hear what they were saying, and it would be much too obvious if he shot out a cord of water to listen in, even in the waning light of day. Surely, they’d see the shimmering, crystalline snake slinking across the grass. The servant disappeared inside, leaving the large doors ajar. It looked like his new friend wasn’t kidding when she said she had a place for them to stay.
A man and a heavily pregnant woman appeared to speak with Hill. Isahn wouldn’t typically assume a woman’s, um, state. But this one was about to burst. There was no confusing it, not with the way her husband eyed her lovingly and kept her belly cupped in his happy hands.
The man turned to speak with someone outside of Isahn’s line of sight, and the servant from earlier emerged, making his way over as Hill turned to beckon for Isahn.
“Come on, we’ve got a place to stay!” she shouted.
A tentative smile crept across his face. These didn’t seem like the type who would be friendly with an assassin.
“Isahn, meet Viceroy Elio Neninios and Domina Greta Neninios. And this is my new friend, Lord Yaranbur from Selwas.”
