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We cross the remainder of the bridge in silence. On the far side, the path splits again, and I choose quickly this time, not wanting to give him more ammunition for his observations. The grassy route to the left has more trees he can “accidentally” smack his head on. He deserves that.

“How much?”

I glance back at him as I pick my way through a tangle of roots sprouting across the path. “How much what?”

Once again, Agnar swivels his head as if he can see and is enjoying the view. Except this time, he stares at a sheer wall of limestone, proof he’s not all-knowing under the blindfold like he pretends. “You’re mixed up with whoever was killed in the room at that gambling den. How much were you paid to keep quiet?”

My spine stiffens as if he slapped me. How dare he think I’d be involved in something like that? “I would never accept a bribe.”

“Mm-hmm.”

His polite disbelief boils my blood, and my hands clench into fists. The denial that springs to my tongue dies as a memory surfaces.

The last time I visited the palace, the door to my father’s study was open. Inside, I overheard a tense conversation between him and a man I didn’t recognize but who dressed like a noble. They mentioned the name of another nation. All I can remember now is Father’s expression when he marched over and slammed the door in my face.

I attempt to focus on the memory, to bring it into sharper detail, but the image blurs around the edges like watercolor in rain. The harder I try to reach for it, the more the picture dissolves.

Which nation? I heard it clearly, but why can’t I remember?

A sharp pain forms in my temple. As my vision starts to blur, I remind myself this is normal.

Veradin explained that newer Wardens are commonly afflicted with sudden headaches and blurry vision or memory trouble. I’ve been training as a Warden since I was thirteen, but I’m weaker than most, of course, and often suffer from all three ailments. Veradin says it’s why I struggle with the most basic of spells and skills. More than anything, I want to be a successful Warden. I yearn to make Veradin proud and prove to my father that I’m worthy of his name and of my royal status as his daughter. But after eight years of learning, I’m still no stronger than the newest recruit. I wish I knew what the hell was wrong with me.

As we crest the next rise, voices carry on the wind, though the source remains hidden from view. Wagon wheels creak on the stone path, accompanied by the jingle of harness bells. The carefree laughter of someone with nothing to fear echoes through the mountain, but the mirth fails to reassure me.

Chapter Twenty-One

Esme

I grab Agnar’s arm and pull him off the path, dragging him behind a boulder half-buried in moss and wildflowers. My palm clamps over his mouth before he can speak.

He stills immediately. The wolf melts into the shadows without needing direction.

I’m left plastered to Agnar in a space barely wide enough for one person, let alone two. My palm against his lips, his breath warm on my skin, his body close enough for me to feel his heartbeat through the layers between us. I stiffen like a board, terrified by our proximity and my desire to stay like this for as long as possible.

The procession passes below our hiding spot on a wider section of the trail we bypassed an hour ago. Twenty people, maybe more, stretch out in a loose column.

Men on horses wear fine leather riding gear, the jewel tones marking them as wealthy without being ostentatious. Their horses appear well-fed and muscular. Squires march alongside, carrying standards I don’t recognize. A juggler practices his art while walking, keeping four colored balls in constant motion. Near the back, a musician plays a lute, the clear, sweet melody drifting up the mountainside.

Gold-trimmed scarlet cloaks and silver-threaded tunics contrast with the gray stone and green forest. Unlike mine, their polished boots appear as if they’ve never encountered mud. One woman in a dress the color of the summer sky rides sidesaddle, her hair plaited in elaborate braids threaded with ribbon.

A banner snaps in the wind, showing a crest I recognize from Father’s court, minor nobility from the eastern provinces.

Beneath my palm, Agnar mumbles. Ignoring him, I remain tense until the procession disappears around a bend.

Wet warmth suddenly pokes the webbing between my fingers. I yank my hand away. “Ew! What the hells?”

Agnar’s tongue peeks out between his lips, and he exudes a “gotcha” attitude. “Why did we stop?”

Wiping my hand on my pants, I glare at him despite the blindfold negating the effect. “It was a traveling party. Well-armed and well-dressed. Heading northwest toward the coast. They’re going to the grand tourney in The Havens, I think. It happens every spring. Champions from all the kingdoms come to compete.”

Agnar’s eyebrow lifts above the material. “Sounds expensive.”

As I survey the empty trail where the convoy vanished, a bittersweet ache settles beneath my ribs. “It is. Everything about it is expensive, excessive, and wonderful. We used to go to tourneys when I was young. Before…”

I trail off and start walking again, tugging Agnar with more strength than necessary.

Based on his grin as he dances over the uneven ground, he either enjoys the lack of care or delights in annoying me. “Before what?”