“Rigelt will remain hidden with Nele,” Robin said, returning to the plan, “but is prepared to use magic if anything goes wrong.” She glanced around her band one final time, meeting each of their eyes with her own. “Be safe.”
She loved the heightened energy on the morning of a venture. And judging by the alert faces in front of her, so did they.
“Let us raid!” She smiled.
Chapter 4
Not willing to trust his sister’s safety to a handful of guards—no matter how loyal to the royal family they were—Ian spoke with his father and decided to personally travel to the port city. He would meet Meena and Sol and escort them back to the capital. Safely.
The four-hour ride required some preparation, and it was late in the afternoon before he left the castle. Tempted though he was to break royal law and ride out by himself, Ian brought two personal guards with him.
“Your life is in constant danger,” King Frederich had warned. “If both you and I are rendered incapable to rule, the head of the Council can step in and assume control of the kingdom despite any remaining heirs.”
And Gareth was the head of the Council. While Ian’s brothers had the enviable freedom of moving through Iseldis as they pleased, the crown prince was never without an escort.
But when Ian rode out from the castle, he was not in a party of just three. He turned in the saddle to glare at the fourth man who rode with him. “Did your wife not convince you to remain behind?” he asked.
Erich shook his head, which also shook the drooping feather attached to his dark hat. “Fortunately, she is far more concerned with my desires than yours.”
Ian turned forward to face the road. He would have to tell Aizel that she was no longer his favorite new sister when they returned home. He was jesting, of course. He could not fault Erich’s desire to see Meena safely home as well.
For safety and subtlety, the four riders all wore simple dark cloaks over their well-made leather armor instead of the recognizable gray livery of Iseldan soldiers.
They rode hard, trying to beat the darkness despite their late start.
But darkness fell before they were halfway to their destination. The heavily wooded forest closed in overhead, cutting out the meager light from the rising moon.
At the head of the party, Ian opted not to light a lantern, preferring to rely on his horse’s superior sight to stay on the road and avoid detection.
Occasionally, the trees overhead would clear enough to let a shaft of moonlight through.
They continued on in the darkness until Rowena, Ian’s horse, dropped a step in her steady gait. Ian bounced forward when she stopped her momentum, dancing on her front legs.
Trusting her animal instincts, Ian tightened his knees around the horse’s back to stay in the saddle while letting her come to a full stop.
“Do you see anything?” Ian whispered over his shoulder to Erich. Rowena shifted uncomfortably beneath him, sniffing loudly in the darkness.
“No.” Erich’s low voice came from behind Ian as he, too, brought his mount to a stop.
Ian kept his gaze on the road ahead, shadows shifting in front of him. His tired eyes could find no sign of anything amiss.
Rowena threw back her head, nickering in panic. Already tense, Ian leaned forward and centered himself over the shifting animal, whispering soothing words to calm her. He freed his right hand and reached back for the short sword at his waist.
“A moment of your time, my lord,” a cheerful voice rang out in the darkness.
Ian’s hands tightened on the reins. The voice had come from directly in front of him, but he still could see nothing. Rowena strained against her lead, snorting loudly and pressing forward. Trusting the horse to find where the danger was coming from, Ian relaxed his hold.
A scratching sound in front of him produced a small flame, crackling as it licked a torch. The light revealed two hooded figures on the road ahead. The one further back held the torch. A hood covered his face in shadow, and his long arm extended to the side so the bright light of the torch did not fall directly onto him.
The closer one, also hooded, was merely a shadowed silhouette in front of the dancing flame.
Ian blinked in the bright light, trying to make out the face of the figure who stood directly in front of Rowena.
The figure lifted his hooded head, staring back at Ian.
Ian could see nothing but a shadow rimmed in torchlight. He did, however, hear the sharp intake of breath when his attacker recognized him as the crown prince.
That could make this infinitely easier, if it intimidated their attacker—or harder.
