Ambrose expected retaliation—no one spoke to the royals so informally. But instead of engaging or punishing, Akadian grabbed her hand and tookit off his shoulder before swatting it away.
For some reason, Ambrose wanted to rip it from her arm.
Mary continued as though the prince hadn’t just openly rejected her. “What has you all going into the forest? That’s a dangerous place for most to be, though I can’t imagine anything in there would be a problem for you.” She winked at Akadian.
Maybe murder isn’t so bad.Ambrose’s mind wandered.
“We’re aware, how dangerous though?” Felius implored.
“Well.” Mary crossed her arms and her smile vanished. “Most townspeople avoid going in entirely. There are things in those woods. No one even really knows everything, but what lurks in them is enough to make the bravest turn tail. Most who go in don’t come out unless they know what they’re doing, and even then…” Mary trailed off and her eyes glazed over. “We had two more people go missing just this week.” Her face scrunched and she nervously squeezed her pad. “One of them was my older brother.”
“What happened to them?” Ambrose asked, eager to get as much information about the woods as she could. She’d need to know everything if she was going to survive out there on her own.
A man sat with his back to them at the bar, sipping the same ale as when they walked in. Ambrose couldn’t shake the feeling he was listening to them.
Mary frowned. “They were supposed to come back with a new shipment of dragon hide to be made into leather, but they never returned.”
Felius bowed his head. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure they’re alright.”
No one believed that, but Mary returned a smile all the same.
Ambrose couldn’t imagine what she’d do if Adym ever went missing. She’d tear the continent apart to find him, if that’s what it took.
“Thank you,” Mary said with a grateful nod. “That’s quite enough sad talk.” She took a deep breath. “What can I get you all?”
They relayed orders of meat and wine and Mary returned, mugs in hand with a basket of bread and honey for them to eat while they waited on their meals. Felius attempted to lighten the mood with jokes from his home village but no one understood the references and they fell short. Podaradrank an entire bottle of wine to herself before the meat even arrived, hiccuping as she carved into her bird. They ate for a while but the meat tasted like ash in Ambrose’s mouth as she thought about the girl in the courtyard.
“Suppose there might be dragons then?” Oryon said between bites.
“O-of course there will b-be dra-dragons.” Podara hiccuped.
“Well I don’t want to run into any of those.” Oryon shook his head and pointed a fork full of meat at Ambrose. “Is that what the fancy clothes are for?”
“Yes.” She didn’t want to lie to them. “But dragons will be the least of our worries.” She thought back to her earlier conversation with Akadian and wondered what horrors they might encounter.
“Whatever it is—” Danthan bumped her shoulder and offered an encouraging smile. “It’s nothing we can’t handle.”
She really hoped that was true.
Chapter 22
“Welcome to my home.” Artie tipped his hat as they arrived just outside of town at a two story farmhouse big enough for a large family, with a porch that wrapped all the way around. The wagon they’d been riding in came to a stop with a slight jerk and Ambrose was overwhelmed with gratitude when she dismounted. The cart didn’t go very fast but her stomach barely survived the trip. It was her first—and hopefully last—trip she’d ever taken on wheels.
“It’s lovely,” she said through deep breaths, and meant it.
The framing was amateurishly, but lovingly carved. As though the person that had done it barely knew what they were doing, rather than had it made by a master. Two rocking chairs swayed slightly in the breeze from their places on the porch. A garden ready for the next season wound its way around the house that must’ve been beautiful in full bloom. His lands extended for many acres, the soil sowed and prepared for the next harvest season with a scarecrow in the center that looked like it’d been made by a child. The touches around the property, put in with such care, made it truly a home.
“You must have a large family,” Ambrose noted as she took in the farm.
“Five young ones and the missus.” Artie gave her a smile. “You all met Mary at the tavern, named after her mother. She often works in the tavern in the off season when I don’t need so much help around the farm. She likely won’t be back until the tavern closes for the night.” Artie dismounted, pulling the horse’s harness off once his feet were firmly on the ground once more. “My oldest, Junior, won’t be here tonight. He went missing thislast week.” Artie’s face dropped for a moment as his sadness decorated it. “But we still set a plate for him every night, in case he makes it home.”
“Do people go missing in the woods often?” Ambrose asked gently.
“Can be.” Artie nodded. “Most of us avoid going into the forest but there are some who have found work or trade in them. It’s dangerous, so only the most skilled of us go and even then, many don’t make it back. My son has been going in for years though, so I know he’s fine. If anyone can make it in those woods, it’s him. But I do wish he’d stop worrying his mama.”
The lines that formed on his forehead told Ambrose his wife wasn’t the only one worried.
“I’m sure he’s on his way home,” she tried to soothe.
