“If these findings are accurate,”—Evera traced a finger over the scribbling—“then we may be able to save them, Neirin.”
May be able to.“I can’t risk it, can’t risk your safety for a possibility—”
Evera’s eyes gleamed with determination, and her features sharpened. “I can do this, Neirin. Let me do this.”
I shook my head. Every instinct told me this was wrong, that leading my family to the very place we needed to escape could only end in disaster. I should list the reasons such a plan was foolhardy. This was merely the hopes of a child, based on fairy tales and the findings of old notes and texts. Would Evera resent me if I denied her this? Would she try to go about the task without me?
Could I support her, even as I feared for her safety, for her life?
“Evera, what am I to do?” The defeat that rang in my voice echoed in my mind long after the words had disappeared from the air.
She reached for me and stroked my leg with her thumb, holding my eyes. “Put your trust in me.”
50
EVERA
At the edgeof the woods, Neirin dismounted and peered over the river’s edge to the rushing water below. This was the sixth time we’d stopped, and he was growing irritated. “It is as I said.” He kicked a rock, and it splashed as it met the rapids. “There is no place this river can be crossed, aside from the bridge.”
In front of me, atop my mare, Calix remained still, his back warm against my chest, his frame slight. I, too, held back any response, knowing Neirin would only shut me down as he had at my last suggestion. This side of him was new to me, but I empathized with it to an extent. He was only frightened for our safety and unnerved by the position Calix and I had put him in when we insisted upon this path without any plan.
A plan was what we needed.
When Neirin rolled his shoulders and sighed, turning back to me with tired eyes, I held a hand out to him.
He cleared the short distance to Sorrel’s side. “I’m sorry for being so sharp-tongued.”
Shaking my head, I offered him a smile. “It’s been a long day.” As I spoke, the corners of my lips turned down, my thoughts returning to Ruairc. A knot formed in my throat, and Neirin squeezed my hand, a gesture of support.
“We’ll rest, reassess things at dawn.”
“What of the huntsmen?” I queried.
Lifting Calix off Sorrel’s back and setting him to the ground, Neirin turned his gaze to the Edthiel Mountains, just visible above the treetops to the south. “I suspect they’ll return home to nurse their wounds and retrieve their horses. Only a fool of a huntsman would return to Astraea after failing her. It’s likely they’ll avoid her and avoid the capital, as we should be doing.” His statement ended with pointed inflection.
“You know I can’t stand by knowing those children—” I glanced at Calix. “Not when there is something I can do to help.”
Neirin only huffed and helped me dismount Sorrel. I’d spent the better half of the morning while we rode going over Calix’s notes and discussing his findings with him. While some plants’ potency lay in their petals, others in their seeds or roots, I could not be certain what part of the elusive plant we would need to create the brew. We would have to use the entirety of it. In time, I could analyze the results of my findings and create a more precise tincture. For now, a general tea would have to suffice.
But what if it doesn’t?
It was Neirin’s concern too. If we were to produce the brew, break into the castle, seek to remedy the children, and the tea proved ineffective— No, there was no use riddling over what-ifs. I would leave the worrying to Neirin, as he seemed intent on doing so regardless.
By dusk, we’d tied the horses and set up a makeshift camp for the night. We had no fire, as Neirin suspected it might draw the attention of soldiers stationed out at the bridge downstream, but the evening was comfortably warm, and we had prepared rations to fill our bellies.
Propped against a boulder, I sat with Calix leaning against me as I stroked his hair, the curls atop his head thick and soft.The last rays of light cast through the trees and fell upon cheeks still rounded with youth as he dozed.
“When we were tied to the tree,” Neirin started, voice low so as not to wake the boy, “my thoughts turned to your dagger. I know you are not ready to speak of it, but I resented not knowing something so important to you as I faced death.”
My fingers stilled in Calix’s hair just as a breeze caught, sending a shiver down my spine.
“You carry it again.”
The dagger remained sheathed, strapped to my hip with the belt Ruairc had lent me.
“Yes,” I said.
“If you are not ready to speak of it—”
