“Take the west road back,” Robin suggested. “It is longer, but less likely to be crawling with Gareth’s soldiers as they watch for Meena.”
“Or you,” Ian said. “If they are patrolling the main road watching for Meena, they will also be looking for you.”
“How foolish of them to think I would be caught traveling the main road,” Robin said.
Ian led the horse to the stable door. “Did they not find you on the main road just a few hours ago?” He stood on his toes to see her over the back of the horse. Now he was jesting, and he wanted to make sure she knew it.
“That was different,” Robin said, a small smile flickering across her face. Then it disappeared. “Though I do not know how they got the rumor of the traveling nobleman all the way to me. That is concerning, if they know where to plant information to reach me.”
Ian stepped on the mounting block outside the stable door. He did not relish the thought of getting back in the saddle having endured yesterday’s ride, as he had not yet slept. But he could survive a few more hours. He swung his leg up over the horse and settled into the saddle. “Gareth has proven far more clever than I would have given him credit for.”
“I knew better than to underestimate him,” Robin said, looking up at Ian. “I will not let it happen again.” She stepped back a pace, giving him space to ride away.
Ian tensed the muscles in his legs, ready to urge the horse forward. But instead, he sat there, looking down at her upturned face. Her hood had slipped down, revealing a fluffy halo of fuzzy, light hair that floated on top of her tied-back braid. He wanted to tell her it was good to see her again, but he hesitated, falling into his usual habit of keeping the majority of his thoughts to himself. But then he remembered that moment, years ago, watching her walk away while he kept silent. “It is good to see you again,” hesaid. His throat felt raw and constricted, but his voice sounded fine. He hoped.
She nodded, her lips softening into a thoughtful smile. “And you,” she replied.
Ian nodded, urging the horse forward.
“Safe travels,” Robin called after him.
“And to you as well,” Ian responded, turning back and lifting his hand in farewell as he guided the horse onto the still-muddy road outside the inn.
With the tide flowing out, the streets at dawn were quieter than they had been only a few hours prior. Thankful for the emptiness, Ian made his way to the edge of the city and set his course—the long way—for home.
He rode without incident, avoiding all other travelers and relying on his nondescript horse and simple clothing to keep him from notice. The lack of sleep was catching up to him, however, and he was grateful that the unfamiliar gait of Robin’s horse kept his muscles working to stay upright.
The sun was almost directly overhead by the time he emerged from the densest part of the woods onto a shepherd’s track that would lead him to the outskirts of the capital city.
He urged the horse forward, toward the familiar white castle in the distance. It sat atop a grassy hill that separated it from the sprawling city below. The horse seemed to sense that their journey was at an end as he happily picked up the pace.
While they rode through the farms just outside the city itself, a loud clap of thunder tore through the air.
Ian looked up in alarm. After last night’s constant rain, the sky was completely clear.
But then he saw it. A bright light flashed from the castle itself, brighter than anything he had ever seen.
Ian instinctively threw up his arm to cover his eyes as he stared ahead at the castle, trying to see what had happened.
A deafening boom followed a second later. The horse under him attempted to rear in panic.
Ian held his seat, urging the frightened horse to stay the course. He needed to get to the castle as soon as possible.
Moments later, smoke billowed from the western tower of the castle, just to the right of the main gate. Ian could see no flame, but other plumes of smoke began to appear along the castle ramparts.
Despite the panic, Robin’s horse followed Ian’s guidance and tore through the city streets, racing past market stalls and lines of hanging laundry. Doors slammed open and people poured into the streets, looking up at the castle to ascertain the source of the sound. Shouts echoed off the stone buildings around him, but Ian was too intent on his destination to make out the words over the pounding of the hooves below him.
As he neared the castle, he could see a large chunk of stone missing from the western tower, as though a ballista had fired a heavy boulder against it. But there was no sign of enemy equipment on the hill leading up to the castle.
There were, however, a dozen or so men in unrecognizable armor pouring into the always-open front gate of the castle. The armor was dark, almost black, as though it had been burnt with oil. The dark steel contrasted with the bright blue livery that shone underneath. These were not the colors of any kingdom or lord that Ian knew of.
Ian wanted to race Robin’s horse directly up the hill behind them, but he knew it would be foolish to throw himself alone against so many.
He redirected the horse to take the side path through the forest, winding around to the back entrance of the castle.
The gate to the back entrance had been closed, a defensive measure that the castle guard had executed well. Ian dismounted just outside the gate and pounded on the door. Theguard recognized him instantly and opened the gate enough to let him and the horse inside.
“The guards have gathered at the front to face the attackers,” the man informed Ian.
