The ship rocked calmly in peaceful waters and sunlight streamed through the cracks under the door.
He didn’t want to move, though, because he didn’t want to disturb Meena.
His Meena.
He inhaled, nestling her closer as he shifted to a more comfortable position. They had fallen asleep while the storm still raged.
His hand was tingled numbly, looped as it still was through the bar of wood to hold them steady through the night.
He slipped his hand free, flexing his wrist as sensation returned to his fingertips.
Meena sighed in her sleep, pressing her face close to his chest as if to block out the light. But she did not wake up.
Sol smiled.
Here he was, literally held down by the woman he’d chosen to be his family. And he felt more free than he’d ever felt.
The future loomed dangerously overhead—their actions had just catapulted the long-brewing tension into an actual war.
But he felt free to move into the future. He didn’t want to waste it cutting himself off from the people around him.
Even if he and Meena had decided to part ways, it would have crushed his heart. But it also would have been worth it.
The brief time he had spent with her made him feel like a whole person. And he was thankful for that.
He was thankful for a future in which had something to hold on to.
Ten Years Earlier
Robin unstopped her flask, shaking the final splash of water into her mouth. She would need to refill at their next stop.
“I hate donkeys,” Lind muttered behind her for the seventeenth time.
Robin did not respond to her lady’s maid. Instead, she leaned forward, patting the thick neck of her stocky mount. “She does not mean that,” Robin whispered to the plodding animal.
The donkey shook its head happily in response to Robin’s soothing touch. Humphrey might not have the elegant features of a horse, but he did have the sweetest disposition of any animal—or person—Robin had ever encountered.
“Just imagine ...” Lind’s tone instantly switched from complaining to excited. “You get to spend Silverfest at the palace of Iseldis! Surely the venison pies they serve to the king himself will be bursting!”
“Mhhh,” Robin replied, her tongue sticking to the top of her mouth. Not even the thought of a savory meat pie could lift her spirits. She swallowed drily, willing away the tears that nipped at her eyelids.
“Will you save me some?” Lind asked, pressing her mount closer to Robin’s.
“What?” Robin blinked, forcing a quick smile.
“Will you save me something from the feast?” Lind asked again.
“Have I ever failed you?” Robin teased, this time with a genuine smile. “But if the king can afford the kind of feast you’ve been describing for the last twelve miles, surely he’ll also be providing something sumptuous for the palace staff?”
Lind’s eyes clouded over as her mount slowed, falling behind. “Perhaps. But I do not know that every lord is as generous as your dear father was, my lady.”
Robin’s smile faded. Her parents had been exceptional in most ways before a sudden sickness claimed them both. At fourteen years of age and with no other relatives, Robin had found herself quite alone in the world.
“You are ever so lucky, my lady,” Lind continued, “to be the ward of King Frederich himself. I’m sure many others would kill to be in such a position.”
Her maid was only trying to cheer her, but lucky was not the word Robin would have chosen. She was lucky to have spent her childhood roaming Lockwood forest with her herbalist mother. She was lucky to have had a father who allowed—and even encouraged—her to ride and hunt, to learn swordplay and archery. Robin twitched her nose as it suddenly burned.
“Oh, Robin.” Lind dug her heels into the side of her lagging donkey, urging it forward. “I did not mean to make you sad again. Things are changing for the better now. Think of all the new velvet gowns and furnishings and delicious foods you’ll get to have! Your father did his best, but you won’t have to worry about harvestreign taxes draining the holdings or re-dying old dresses to mark you as a lady instead of a mere farmer’s daughter like me.”
