“That was a test, which you failed.”
Her brow creased. “My apologies, sir?”
He laughed. “None required, but remember, Soren, it is not a weakness to ask for help. A wiser man chooses to rely on a friend.”
She nodded but could not bring herself to meet his kind eyes. They were a mocking reminder to her, for she had no friends. Despite his kindness, it was temporary. They would arrive at the temple and then part ways once the princess had her dragon. Soren doubted she would receive much kindness from then on—likely only suspicion and disdain once they were in the war camps.
“Onward!” Sir Helq called from the front of the party just as a strong wind whipped through the clearing.
She shivered, a foreboding feeling curling in her gut like a great, slumbering beast. Each stepSgàilsuiltook pushed her closer to something dreadful. She was sure of it, even as reason tried to shout her thoughts were created by fear and nothing more. For as the storm began to rage around them, the knights shouting and forming a tight ring around Princess Cion, the suspicion thatfearitself was the logical one now grew.
Ahead, through the pelting rain, Soren swore she saw shapes moving in the mist.Sgàilsuilsuddenly kicked up speed, and Princess Cion screeched Soren’s name as the horse shot past the rest of the party. Soren was breathing hard, the icy air like daggers in her chest. She clung to the beast as it began to buck and rear, but it was no use.
She flew into the air then landed hard on the cold, muddy earth, the impact knocking the breath out of her and sending a rattling pain through her bones.
As she lay on the ground, shaking, her breath catching in tiny heaves, the mist grew thicker. Whispers surrounded her, overlapping and insistent. Soren slowly stood on shaky feet, trying to see through the thick air.
“Hello?” she called tentatively. “Princess? Sir Lanor?”
You…
Soren froze at the sound of the rasping, inhuman drawl. Animal instincts told her she was correct. Then, there was something else inside her chest, an ember of suspicion that had perhaps always been there…
“Are you afraid, Mamma?
Soren froze.
A child’s laughter echoed in the mist. The rain had stopped.
“Not of you. Never of you.”
“Then of what?”
“Stop,” Soren whispered to nothing and no one as the children began to scream.
Peals of harsh laughter joined in, merging and melding with the sounds of terror until it was all that remained, the cackles growing louder until they surrounded her. She sank to her knees, covering her ears. Something brushed against her back, and she jolted, bolting up and running as fast as she could through the mist, her eyes half shut. She did not want to see what had made those sounds.
She only stopped when she collided with something hard.
“Soren!”
She opened her eyes, her breath catching as Sir Lanor caught her, keeping them both from toppling over. She was in a clearing, a sliver of sun peeking through the clouds. But as she turned and saw the last tendrils of mist creeping away…
Three figures lingered at the tree line.
Waiting. Watching.
Whispering.
She shuddered, and Princess Cion set a firm hand on Soren’s shoulder. “Soren. What did you see?”
“I…”
“Just now, you looked back as if something was there. What was it?”
Soren looked at the princess’ hard eyes and thinned mouth, realizing the question was not a request but an order. So, she swallowed her terror and replied, “Three forms, my princess. They…whispered things to me in the mist, reminding me of memories no one alive but me should be privy to.”
“Holy gods,” Sir Helq breathed just asSgàilsuilgalloped towards them.
