"Smuggling routes," Hrolf replies simply, not breaking stride. "During the rebellion days. I've walked these paths in my mind a thousand times, planning supply lines, escape routes."
A faint, humorless smile touches his mouth. "Planning how to bring your kingdom to its knees."
His honesty lands hard.
The knights say nothing, but their hands hover closer to their weapons as we press deeper into the ravine. Wind howls up from below, carrying the distant roar of water. The path deteriorates as we climb, the ground becoming loose shale that shifts underfoot without warning.
Eyepatch is two steps ahead of me when the ledge gives way beneath his boot. He pitches forward toward the ravine. Shadow lashes from my hand, snapping around his wrist and hauling him backward. Pebbles rain into the abyss below.
"Careful, Aelfric," I say absently.
He pauses.
Eyepatch—Aelfric inhales sharply, then nods once. "Appreciated."
"Stay close to the wall," Hrolf says from ahead, not looking back.
The shale cliff narrows to nothing and then simply ends, crumbling into a jagged slope that spills into shadow. Beyond it, a denser forest begins. The trees rise close together, trunks twisted and thick with moss. Their branches knit overhead until daylight thins to a greenish gloom.
I look at the three of them. At Aelfric shaking dirt from his gauntlet, at Garrett adjusting his shield, at Hrolf already scanning the path ahead.
They follow without hesitation.
For her.
"Aelfric. Garrett. Hrolf." I clear my throat. "You didn't have to do this. I won't forget that."
They stop.
All three stare at me as though I've spoken in another language.
Garrett is the first to recover, a crooked smirk tugging at his mouth. "You can still call me Red, you know."
"Let's keep moving," the other knight adds lightly. "Before you promote us any further."
We camp that first night in the ruins of what was once a trading post. The walls are scorched black, the roof long since collapsed. Dark stains mark the ground where blood once pooled. Whether elven or dwarven or fae, I can't tell.
Night in the fae-wilds doesn't sleep. Even in the quiet, everything stirs. Mist rolls slowly between the trees, moving with purpose. Branches whisper without breeze and things move just beyond the firelight, never close enough to see clearly.
"Wake me in three hours," Garrett mutters with exhaustion.
Hrolf settles opposite me, hat pulled low over his eyes. Within minutes, his breathing evens out into sleep.
Every moment we rest is a moment Rhianelle slips further away. But Hrolf insisted we couldn't navigate the paths safely in darkness. The fae-wilds are dangerous enough in daylight.
Hold on,I whisper to Rhianelle silently.
Dawn comes reluctantly in Avalon, the light arriving gray through the canopy. We break camp quickly and march hard. Hrolf sets a punishing pace and neither knight complains. We're all thinking the same thing.
She is running out of time.
28
Chapter 27 Svenn
We make camp at the edge of a valley as the sun bleeds into the horizon.
The others are too exhausted to risk the descent in darkness. The slope below us disappears into shadow, steep and treacherous. I'm not foolish enough to force them down after the punishing pace we've maintained all day. They need rest, even if I don't.
