“Well, yours certainly are,” Trick says, admiration clear in his voice. “You’d be a great thief.”
“In the Eagle Clan, we chop one hand off those caught thieving and force them to run behind the horses for seven hours,” Chitai says flatly. “If they survive, we consider letting them live.”
Trick’s face doesn’t change, but he puts his hands in his pockets.
“But—”
Chitai cuts me off. “No. Enough. I’ll think on how much to tell you. We have a long journey ahead of us. Not all truths need to be shared this soon.”
Kaelen stares her down, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Fine. But you’ll tell me this: Are you a danger to Soli? And none of your glib answers, warrior. If you threaten her, even in jest, you won’t live to tell your story.”
Quicker than thought, she flings a knife at him, but he’s faster still. His sword snaps up to block her blade, and the metallic clashing sound raises the tension in our camp by a thousand degrees.
Instead of escalating the violence, though, the Dawn warrior grins.“I like you, prince. So, I’ll tell you the truth instead of cutting you down where you stand: Soli is the only person in all of Altarra who is entirely safe from me.”
With that, she flashes a sardonic smile at Elianna and stalks away from the campfire, deliberately turning her back, as if we aren’t dangerous enough to trouble her.
Surprising me, Kaelen laughs. “I should have recognized the signals she was flashing at me in the throne room, but it’s been so damned long since I studied the Dawn in my history lessons. A warrior of the Dawn. Eagle Clan, no less—the fiercest of all the fighters. If they truly do still exist, we might just have a chance.”
“We’ll see,” Andras says, his voice hard as he watches Chitai walk off into the night. “For now, everyone should get some rest. I’ll take the first watch with Neville. There are still the followers to beware of—could be that the Zhagarn stole palace horses.”
The sergeant, who’d been listening to the revelations with a stunned expression, nods. “Yeah. Uh, yes.” Then he whistles. “A Sylvan lord, a Valourian prince, and a warrior of the Dawn. It’s like I fell into a child’s storybook.”
“Yeah,” Trick mutters. “One of the horrible ones, where the children get eaten by monsters.”
The week following this night of revelations is almost … ordinary. Ridiculous to even think I can consider days of learning to ride a horse, build a fire, poison people, and defend myself with a daggerordinary, but familiarity dulls even the most heightened fears. I know from painful experience I can only live in a state of perpetual anxiety for so long before I either relax or fall into the Gray.
I don’t have time to fall into the Gray.
Every day I wake up afraid thatthisis the day I’ll sink again, but so far, the fog has stayed clear of the conscious areas of my mind. So far, I’m maintaining a juggler’s balance: trying not to stumble whilekeeping several balls in the air.
Also, though, every day I experience something wondrous and new. The prolonged feel of sunshine on my skin, without worry that I’ll be punished for dallying outdoors. The sight of a cloud of honeybees on a mission for their queen. The scent of wildflowers. The sound of birds calling out their happiness or their grievances—one never knows with birds.
The sight of Kaelen, chest bared, washing at a stream next to me.
A shiver races through me at the thought.
He subtly flexes when he catches me watching him, and I’m struck by the wild, fleeting idea to take off my own shirt and wash in only my underclothes next to him.
I don’t, of course.
But all of it comes together to form a tapestry of new adventures.
New sensations and revelations.
And all of it—allof it—experienced without the threat of punishment for stepping outside the lines I was never intended to cross.
This must be how ordinary people live their lives, I realize, but I can’t tell if the feeling that fills me at the epiphany is sadness or joy.
I decide to claim joy.
Today, I’m riding Cloud, the mare Kaelen chose for me. She’s gentle, as if she knows I’m only learning.
When Kaelen first proposed I learn to ride, I fell apart. Somewhere in the midst of shaking and sobbing, I blurted out the story of my mother’s death, then turned to run away from the almost certainly appalled prince.
But he didn’t let me run. He didn’t even seem horrified by my meltdown.
Instead, he caught my hand to stop me and pulled me into his arms. Then he held me against his warm chest and stroked my hair until I finally quit crying and stood gulping shuddery mouthfuls of air, just trying to breathe. Trying to calm down.
