“Was your uncle’s shop near the castle?”
“Close enough, his shop was beside the harbour,” Myles’ voice trails, as if he is reminiscing.
“That must have been incredible, meeting folks from all over the continent, trading before setting sail into the sunset.” Myles falls silent, and sadness exudes from him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. You must miss him,” I say feebly.
“It’s okay, it’s just been a long time since I saw him, he taught me everything I know. How to read and write, the smith trade, and how to fight. I owe him my life. I suppose thanks to him, I didn’t have to enlist in the army.”
King Zayn’s army, the man who sits on my family’s throne. Is he beloved by the folk of Eilia? How would he feel learning of my existence? Would he happily hand over the crown, or would he fight for it?
WouldIfight for it? I have no idea.This is all too new, too absurd. Can I really be contemplating claiming a throne I had no idea was mine? That’s a question for another day.
We ride in silence for a while, the sun rising, waking the sky. Birds sing their morning songs, alerting everyone to a new day. The morning air has a chill to it as summer begins to blend intoAutumn. I often wonder how we’re able to grow anything in our conditions; seasons of short summers and long winters.
Yawning after a long night, my eyes droop. “Maybe we should stop somewhere nearby.”
Myles grunts in agreement.
Leading Misty off the road into the woods, we find a clearing near a stream, not too far away from the road. Dismounting, I lead my tired horse to the stream, tying her reins to a nearby tree. She’s done well and deserves a rest, this being the longest journey she has had to undertake and with two passengers, nonetheless. Myles unstraps our bed rolls and removes our heavy bags, leaving anything unrequired still attached, while I gather firewood.
I’m so tired, I don’t even remember lying down to sleep.
A rustling noise nearby jolts me awake. My head feels groggy; a darkness has clouded the woods, and I didn’t mean to sleep for as long as I had. But I needed it.
The smell of cooking food stirs my stomach, and a grumble vibrates my belly.
Myles is sitting beside the fire, gazing into nothing. He doesn’t even look up when I near him, not until I place my hand on his shoulder, does he jump.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
I don’t believe him, but I doubt pushing him will make him talk to me. Picking up the canteen, I settle down on a log near the fire to warm up, my ears perking up at the sound of rustling again. Myles’ head snaps in the direction from which it comes.
Three guards push through the trees and bushes: a podgy redhead whose armour looks like it’s ready to split, one short brown-haired guard who looks about twelve, and another older guard, with grey hair and an eye patch over his left eye. Mylesplaces his hand on the hilt of his sword at his side. I pull my hood over my head, pretending to feel the cold.
“Something smells good here,” the redhead growls.
“I’m sorry, we have nothing to spare, barely enough to get us to the next village,” I say, trying to sound sorrowful.
“What about ale? Surely, you’ve got some of that,” the older one-eyed guard says as he creeps up beside me.
“Sorry, no ale,” I reply. “Only water.”
“Well, aren’t you a boring lot. I guess that’ll have to do.” He grabs the canteen from my hands and plonks himself down to my left, on the log beside the fire. He stretches his legs out as he gulps the water sloppily, spilling down his armour and tunic. Myles observes the guards, waiting for any suspicious movements.
“Where are you guys headed?” Myles’ face is hard and void of emotion.
“Vendyl,” the redhead answers. “Seems there’s been trouble in paradise. A witch, I heard.”
“A witch?” Myles asks, posturing surprise. “And what’s this ‘witch’ done?”
The young guard speaks, “I heard she killed some guards with her bare hands.”
“Some of them were my mates, can’t wait to find her and wring her pretty little neck,” the redhead snarls.
“Lord Adrian wants her alive. We all want to see her suffer, and she will with what Adrian has planned,” the older guard says, while the others jeer. I gulp, and force a laugh, standing and holding my hands out to the fire.
I make myself busy sorting through our bags and move as far away from the guards as I can be without seeming obvious, hoping they don’t sense my nerves.
