Ashore, Odgar lowers his weapon, and the others follow suit. I release a breath, but a haze creeps into my awareness. I’m not sure how long it is before we disembark, but sapphire eyes with a sunburst of golden brown steadily regard me. A familiar man just shy of Odgar’s height stands beside him. His name escapes me.
Dark ink peeks out from Odgar’s trimmed beard and his sun-kissed curls are pulled back into four braids. The sides of his scalp are bare and proudly displaying numerous other tattoos. I resist the urge to press my hand to my face, to obscure my blemishes. My bruises are gone, but there are scars that Briony couldn’t fully banish from my skin.
“Princess Carys,” Odgar says in his deep, rumbling voice. “What a pleasant surprise.” He gestures to the man beside him. “You remember Seth.”
Seth bows. “Lovely to see you again, Your Highness.”
“Likewise. And thank you,” I say to both men. It’s nearly summer solstice, yet patches of snow still cover the land behind Odgar. Many of the Uldarans gawk at me with varying expressions.
“Unfortunately, I have to take you to my brother,” comes Odgar’s voice again, cutting through the recurring mind fog. I pull my attention back to him. “But do not worry; he is a fair and just king.”
I nod, schooling my features into courageous certainty, but the wordkingricochets in the echo chamber of my mind. It sends my thoughts tumbling back to the Fortress on the Mount, to my father—the king—then my mother … both gone when I still needed them …
There’s a subtle weight on my shoulder, and Briony’s saccharine voice floods my senses. “Princess Carys.” She sounds so far away as my hazy mind refocuses on the situation at hand. Icy blue eyes peer up at me with concern. “Are you alright?” she asks.
I shrug her hand from my shoulder, and the movement sends a ripple of pain through my still-healing body.
“Prince Odgar has given Angharad and the crew permission to replenish here before setting off again. She wishes you good fortune.”
I turn my attention to Odgar who holds the reins of a dark grey horse. I don’t recall him leaving at any point, but Angharad and Seth are nowhere in sight, and the worry etched between Briony’s eyebrows is achingly familiar. She gives me an encouraging smile and turns to approach a sable horse beside the one whose reins Odgar holds. I blink away the grogginess and the frustration.
“Are you alright riding with me?” Odgar asks. “This strong fellow can handle us.” He pats the horse’s flank and is rewarded with a pleasant whinny.
I take a step toward the steed, but my legs are so unstable with disuse that I might as well be teetering on a narrow rampart. My stomach lurches as though I’ve toppled over an edge. I halt, standing still as the cold sensation of falling into icy water envelops me again.
Water in my lungs.
Fire all around me.
“Carys.”
Odgar’s deep voice tugs me from my reeling memories. My chest feels overstretched, my lungs reluctant to draw a full breath.
“You’re safe,” he tells me.
I clear my throat and lift my chin. “I’m in a new land. How can I be so sure?”
He arches a brow. “That is a very fair question, but you are with me. No harm will come to you.” He steps aside. “Do you need help getting into the saddle? I’ll sit behind you.”
I swallow hard and nod.
Everything is a blur, as if we’re riding through time—yet it feels simultaneously sluggish. My mind battles with the past and present as I fight to focus on my surroundings. There are mountains all around us and a fjord in the distance, the sun sparkling on the surface.
“Carys?” Odgar says my name in a way that hints it isn’t the first time he’s called me.
I don’t glance back at him but stare ahead at the snow-specked dirt path instead. “Yes?”
“Is there anything I need to know before you meet the king?”
Everything within me tenses. Where do I even start? I suppress my torture-riddled memories and start with what’s most important for him to know. “My mother, the queen, is dead. By now, the people of Erleya probably think I’m dead. I’m not sure what Lord Commander Rheon will tell them, but he intended to use me, not just to take over the throne but—” I pause to swallow. “In any case, all I know is that I don’t have a place to go, nor a title anymore.”
There’s only the background noise of the villagers around us and the crunch of the layer of snow beneath the horse’s hooves. After a while, Odgar says, “I’m sorry about your mother.”
I wet my lips and stare straight ahead.
“In Uldarvik, the throne can bewon—challenged, if you will. It’s an entire ritualistic combat that most wouldn’t dare to attempt, but you have nothing like that in Erleya, right?”
Numbly, I shake my head.
