I’m going to need to find time to return the horse soon, perhaps when I call on him for another luncheon and to procure my pants. I can’t help but wonder if the man will continue to reveal his true self to me, and if he does, what other information he might divulge.
She hands me a quiver, slinging her own across her back. I cinch the strap across my chest and, with a handful of mane, swing into the saddle. Awri notes the maneuver with curiosity, as she glides onto her own seat.
“I’ve ridden since I was a little girl,” I explain.
The bow strapped to the saddle behind me is easy to reach, bound by a small leather strap. Adjusting my cloak around my shoulders, I give the horse a click of my tongue and she saunters forward, Awri and her mount following close behind. I’m not sure why Awri laughs when she sees the general tugging his tunic over his head, wearing his usual brooding frown, until she ribs her friend.
“We’ll keep to the edge of the forest,” she assures him, “And I promise to keep her far away from any of the springs.”
The male pushes out an exasperated sigh that only makes her laugh louder before cracking her reins in the air, sending our mounts into a gallop toward the woodland. My cloak billows in the dragging wind and I close my eyes, happy to let the mare have her way. The crisp chill of the morning air fades into an unseasonable warmth as we near the forest. Thick tendrils of air caress the lobes of my ears before rushing down my neck and filling my bodice until my skin prickles and a wide grin breaks across my face.
True to her word, we spend the morning skirting the trees. Only delving into the dense undergrowth on foot occasionally to check for any sign of our prey.
“I truly am sorry.” Her voice breaks the silence just before midday.
“Don’t be,” I try to assure her, again.
The quiet of the hunt is a relief, the time alongside one another easing a bit of the tension between us.
“It would be easy to blame my actions on exhaustion,” she says, “like Kishek said last night, planning for the masque has taken a toll, as well asother matters I’ve had to attend as of late. But it wasn’t any of that.” She sighs, letting the conversation linger in the air until I think that might be the end of it. “You caught me completely off guard. When I saw you with that sprite it was like I didn’t know you at all. Like I was looking at a stranger.”
I shove down a bloom of guilt. She doesn’t know me. Not really. And that is something I’m sure she will live to regret.
“But that wasn’t fair of me,” she continues, “you’re entitled to a life unscrutinized by me or anyone else. I should have thanked you for what you did.”
“You don’t nee—”
“Thank you,” she cuts me off with a fierce stare.
After a moment of pause, I dip my chin, and it seems the simple gesture is enough for her.
The forest is still, almost eerily so, and I find myself thinking of the naiad and other fea that might be lurking under the deep shadows cast by the canopy above.
“Why didn’t the general want you hunting today?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the forest.
She laughs. “Xey hasn’t fussed over me like that since I was a child. You, on the other hand,” her lips kick up at the ends in an amused smirk, “bring out a very different side of the male. I think he would have sent an entire battalion if I’d allowed it.”
My eyes nearly bulge from their sockets. She’s joking, of course, but it begs the question, does the general really have a battalion of men hiding near the palace grounds? I have spent far too many hours indoors planning parties if it is true and I am somehow completely unaware of it.
“Does he worry about the other fea in the forest?” I ask, “He told me there were more who live there.”
“There are thousands of them,” she says, “The forest stretches beyond the mountains, all the way to the northern sea. The king grants any fea seeking refuge the right to live on that land.”
She looks toward the snow-covered peaks as if she could somehow see the vast expanse of land that lays beyond them.
“The ship you saw last night was far from the first,” she explains, “Andregretfully they’ve become more frequent. Brax was left in the keeping of the fea after the sundering, but life for them is altered, and it is not the same home they once had. Many attempt the crossing from the south, but very few live to see the bounty of the northern woods.”
“They die in the crossing? From what?” I wonder.
“The tidelands that surround Brax make for a treacherous journey. They are full of unpredictable currents and shallow reefs known aschai’brukar,ship breakers. Most of the ships sink before they ever make it into the open sea.”
I don’t have to ask what type of lives the fea must lead to drive them to such desperation. I have lived it. Seen it with my own eyes in La’tari.
“Have you been to Brax?” I ask.
“Not for many years,” she answers thoughtfully, “I was last there during the war. Even then it was a far cry from what it had been before the La’tari began hunting the fea. It’s only gotten worse for them since the treaty.”
That gets my attention and my head whips toward her.
