‘How long was I out?’ I ask between mouthfuls.
‘A day or so,’ Fox tells me.
I make an impatient sound, letting my head tip back against the trunk of the willow.
Fox smiles a little at my petulance. He pulls off his left glove, severs its fingertips with his knife, then tosses it to me. ‘Here.’
I catch it warily and hold it at arm’s length, as if he’d thrown the knife rather than the glove. ‘What’s this for?’
‘To conceal your brandmark. It somewhat ruins your cover.’
‘I must’ve left mine in the Ridge,’ I mutter, sliding it on and fastening it at the wrist, concealing the soft glow. As expected, it’s too big for me, but it’ll have to suffice.
‘Are you feeling well enough to travel?’ Fox asks.
I nod. ‘Yes.’
‘And you’re sure about that?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you promise to do everything I tell you?’
‘Yes –Hold on.’ I narrow my eyes. ‘I’m not promising that.’
‘Too late,’ he points out.
‘In case you’d forgotten, I’m going to be queen,’ I snap. ‘Doesn’t that mean you have to promise to do everythingItellyou?’
A smirk tugs at the corners of Fox’s mouth. ‘Pulling rank already, I see. Forgive me,Your Majesty, but given that your safety is now my responsibility, I’m going to need you to let me take the reins on this one. And speaking of, I’d better start tacking up.’
I glower into my bowl before following Fox between the branches into a small clearing. Cedar is there, snuffling through the undergrowth, his dark mane shining in the dappled light.
Fox clicks his tongue in greeting. ‘Storm Weaver, you remember my horse?’
I reach out a tentative hand to stroke Cedar’s muzzle, thinking back to when I first met him that night in the stables, when Fox gave me the kittens.
‘What news of my younger brother?’ I ask, experiencing a fresh wave of relief that Renly was not permitted to attend Aunt Yvainne’s funeral.
‘Your grandmother sent for him before she left Fire Mountain,’ says Fox. ‘He was taken to the safe house along with the decoys. Genius plan, by the way. Let’s hope it works long enough for us to reach the Lagoon, or else we’ll have half of Ostacre – and my uncle – on our tails.’
I frown, because he’s right. I have to find the Eye before anybody realizes I’m missing, which can only be a matter of time.
What would the people make of it, I wonder? The Storm Weaver, a runaway queen. Afugitive. Many already question my account of the Binding Ceremony. They would never believe my intentions to be noble. And if I were discovered with the Earth Cleaver …
‘Do you know what they’re saying? About you and me?’ I grimace, recalling the conversation Flint and I overheard in Isolla.
A muscle twitches in Fox’s jaw. ‘More or less. Neither one of us has an excess of admirers, as I understand it.’ He chuckles humourlessly. ‘My uncle is taking advantage of the people’s doubt. He’s using their uncertainty to win their support.’
‘How?’
‘By giving them a villain,’ says Fox. ‘Or in this case – two.’
Despite the sunlight glinting through the branches, I feel suddenly cold.
Fox sets to work packing the rest of his belongings, sliding his gold dagger into the sheath at his hip, strapping his satchel securely to Cedar’s flank.
It’s only when he offers me a leg-up into the saddle that the reality of our situation dawns on me. There is onlyonehorse. I roll my shoulders uncomfortably in my soiled shirt, painfully conscious of the layer of grime coating my skin.
