Oskar smiled knowingly. “You’ve been quiet and thoughtful for several days. An adventure with Phile will brighten your spirits.”
“General Halvor would say it is too perilous.”
“It’s a calculated risk,” Oskar admitted. “You are capable of taking care of yourself, but your companions will add another layer of protection—particularly Snorri, now that he has come clean about his magic.”
“What will you tell General Halvor?”
“That you and Phile went on a camping trip. He’ll know what you’re really doing, but it will keep his rage level to simmering instead of eruptive.”
A fond smile curled Rakel’s lips. “Thank you, Oskar.”
Oskar bowed. “It is my pleasure, Princess.”
Rakel staredat a squirrel sitting in a tree with suspicion.
“Relax, Little Wolf. That’s not Dimwit’s shape shifter,” Phile said. She rode her horse—which she had stolen weeks ago from a Chosen soldier—and which obediently walked shoulder-to-shoulder with the two ponies that pulled the small sleigh in which Snorri and Rakel rode.
“How do you know?” Rakel asked.
“Because she doesn’t have a squirrel form.”
The squirrel chattered and ate a nut.
Is it…listening to us?“You can’t know that.”
“Yes, I can. We’ve seen a fox, snow bear, and a wolf. She hasn’t changed into anything that isn’t a carnivore.” Phile ticked off the shapes on her fingers.
“Maybe those are only shapes she chooses to take in battle. I imagine she has a separate set she uses for scouting,” Rakel said.
Snorri mumbled.
“What was that, most-majestic-and-virile-of-scouts?” Phile asked.
Snorri’s expression remained flat. “The Princess is correct.”
Rakel pulled her eyes away from the squirrel long enough to give Phile her version of a triumphant smile—the barely discernible curling of her lips.
Phile ignored her. “Oh my, Snorri! I like it when you take charge!” She winked, then her expression sobered. “Perhaps you are right, Little Wolf. Maybe the Chosen shape shifter can turn into a tree rat. But I promise that squirrel isn’t a magic user. How would she know to be in this exact area? Why would she appear out in the open instead of hiding in the trees when there is a chance we might want squirrel stew for our dinner?”
Snorri nodded in agreement.
Not at all reassured, Rakel stared at the squirrel until they moved around a curve in the hill.
Phile raised her nose to the air and sniffed. “We’re almost there, aren’t we? I can smell their campfires.”
“We’re downwind of them,” Snorri said. “There’s a cluster of tall hills up ahead. We’ll remain there.” His voice was quiet but firm.
“I know, I know. We can’t go dragging Rakel into the enemy camp. It’s a good thing I brought a spyglass.” Phile patted a saddlebag.
“You own a spyglass?” Rakel asked, unable to recall seeing the Robber Maiden with such a costly tool before.
“No—Iborrowedit from the Royal Library.”
Rakel scowled. “From the library? That means it is a national treasure. You cannot borrow national treasures to use for scouting missions.”
“Why not? It’s a spyglass. It was made to be used. If you’re not gonna use it, why bother having it?” Phile asked.
Rakel drew up her shoulders—fully intending to growl at the Robber Maiden—when Snorri offhandedly offered, “There’s the camp.”
