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“Sorry, sorry.” Wyn turned to look at Ayda. “I promise it will be fine. Hùisdean was always Ásví's favorite anyway.”
“That's only because I did my lessons,” Hùisdean grunted. He swung his leg over the back of his horse and seated himself in the saddle, speaking to Ayda without looking her in the eye.
“I’m hoping you know how to ride?”
“We can charm the tack if you don’t.” Elion offered her a warm smile.
“It's all right. I can ride well enough. I won't win any medals for it, but I know my way around a saddle.” Ayda tied her pack to the horse's saddlebags and hopped up. She knew she didn't move nearly as gracefully as Hùisdean, but she hoped she didn't make too big of a fool of herself.
The horse looked like some cross between an Arabian and a Haflinger; it was tall and elegant but sturdy enough to handle a variety of terrains. The saddle and reins were elaborate and, like practically everything Ayda had seen in Carenlume, beautifully embroidered in jewel-toned shades.
“This is Goldberry.” Imra grinned, petting the horse's mane. “She's my mount. She's always carried me well, and I expect she'll do the same for you.” Ayda was so taken aback that she nearly fell off the saddle. She dropped the reins.
“Oh, I couldn’t. Please, I couldn't possibly ride her.”
“Nonsense.” Imra leaned in closer. “She's a very reliable horse. There's plenty in the stable to choose from, but none are nearly as tested. Hùisdean wouldn't hear of it for you to take another mount. Oblige a mother, will you? Seeing him care so seriously about someone other than us is good. Have a nice trip.”
Imra started walking away, patting the horse's flank twice. The horse seemed to pick up on the signal and began trotting forward, out through the gates of Carenlume. Hùisdean's horse was already a stone’s throw ahead. Ayda's face had shifted into complete shock, in total disbelief at what had just happened. She barely processed the final farewells from the royal family, her jaw hanging open as she fixed her gaze ahead.
What in the world? Ayda's thoughts started racing. First, the guard outside my room, and now Imra. I don't know what version of Hùisdean they're seeing, but it's not one I know. Ayda fidgeted in the saddle. Yes, you do.
Ayda attempted to shrug it off and spurred her horse forward until she rode next to Hùisdean. They rode in an awkward silence while he still seemed hellbent on refusing to acknowledge her presence. Ayda tried distracting herself with the passing scenery, and while getting lost looking at trees was a particularly favorite pastime of hers, it was proving difficult.
“Okay, fine,” Ayda finally snapped, angling her body in the saddle towards Hùisdean. “Are you going to insist on the silent treatment the entire way there? Are you a twelve-year-old girl?”
Hùisdean grunted, finally making eye contact with Ayda. She hated how good he looked in the morning light. The sun practically caressed his stupid, gorgeous face.
“Do you want to talk about what happened with the draugr attack or not? That is the only thing I'm interested in talking about. If you don't want to talk about it, we can return to riding in silence.”
“You want to ride in silence the entire way there? Seriously? I don't know how far we're going, but it seems decently far away.”
“It is.” Hùisdean shrugged, clicking his tongue and spurring his horse up a few paces.
“Oh, you selfish git!” Ayda hollered after him but refused to broach the subject. She was already nervous enough about having potentially untapped magical powers and meeting a potentially dangerous magical aunt of Hùisdean's, so she'd choose silence over a third potentially dangerous encounter.
Arguably, the most dangerous since it involved her feelings.
Proving true to his word, almost the entire day passed in silence between Hùisdean and Ayda. Occasionally, he'd turn around to ensure she was still following him or wasn’t dead, but he offered no further explanation about where they were going. The scenery around them started to change, from rolling hills dotted with trees and light woodland to a dark, dense forest.
The canopy was so close together that it was beginning to blot out the sun entirely while the trees grew practically on top of one another. The only exception was the ragged dirt road Ayda and Hùisdean traveled. It was as if the forest itself was suddenly conspiring to deprive them of light and push them closer and closer into the dark. Finally, the sunlight disappeared altogether, and Ayda couldn't see anything beyond the walls of trees to her left and right. The temperature seemed to drop about ten degrees, and the horses made nervous noises.
Hùisdean reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a long rope, turning around and tossing one end to Ayda.
“Tie that around your saddle horn,” he instructed, his voice devoid of any emotion. “There's a hunting lodge about thirty minutes away by horseback. We'll stay there for the night and make it to Ásví's homestead by noon tomorrow.”
Ayda caught the rope and quickly secured it with a double knot to her saddle.
“Where are we?” Ayda didn't know if Hùisdean would even answer her. He’d already said the most words she'd heard from him all day. Something about the forest was setting her on edge… Ayda had never felt uncomfortable in the woods before, and that fact alone made her blood run cold.
“This is Nangroth.” Hùisdean looked around, sighing deeply. “The dark woods. Before you ask, yes, they're safe, but barely. They were taken over by a necromancer about five hundred years ago. My parents and Ásví managed to get rid of him, but the trees haven’t forgotten entirely yet. Maybe in another hundred years.”
Ayda forced herself not to react and took several slow, deep breaths. She had processed more information in the last forty-eight hours than in the last five years combined. Her palms grew sweaty, and she tightened her iron-clad grip on the reins.
“Lovely,” Ayda deadpanned.
Hùisdean urged his horse forward, and they started moving again.
“Ásví figured if she set up her cabin on the other side of Nangroth, fewer people would venture through it to bother her,” Hùisdean supplied.
