Blaze
This can’t be happening.
My whole body turns rigid, fear spiking as the Ventalla soldier gets to his feet. He looks only a couple of years older than me, his boyish face peppered with stubble. I watch his eyes rake over me, his expression alight with … what? Victory? Disbelief?
Several onlookers are watching the proceedings with interest.
I swallow hard. My cover is blown. The game is up. And now that they’ve found me, what do they intend to do? Capture me? Bind me with chains and drag me to the Windlands? I could fight them. I could win, too. I know I could. But that would only reveal my identity, and word of my whereabouts would spread like wildfire.
The soldier strides towards me, one hand resting on the hilt of his longsword.
There’s nothing else for it. Taking a shaky breath, I jut my chin to meet his gaze just as ice begins to coat my palms.
But to my surprise, the soldier merely grins. ‘Where d’you think you’re going, sweetheart? Fancy a drink?’
I’m too stunned to do much more than blink at him.
Slowly, realization dawns. He doesn’t know who I am.Of coursehe doesn’t. As far as anyone knows, the Storm Weaver is hidden away at a safe house in the Firelands. This man doesn’t recognize me because he isn’t looking for me. Then there’s the fact I’m dressed like a lowborn Fidra girl as opposed to the future Queen of the Waterlands.
I sag with relief just as someone slips an arm round my waist.
Fox smiles pleasantly as he appears at my shoulder, tucking me possessively into his side. ‘Ready, love? Our room’s upstairs.’
I glance sidelong at him, my heart tripping. Did he just call melove?
The soldier’s face falls and he clears his throat uncomfortably. ‘Ah, I see that you have – Right. Well. Sorry to trouble you.’
Fox waves his apology away as his thumb traces lazy circles along the curve of my hip. ‘You’re a long way from home,’ he says casually. ‘What brings you to the Wildlands?’
The soldier’s response sounds scripted. ‘His Majesty King Balen, Ruler of the Windlands and rightful Emperor Regent, wishes the people of Ostacre to feel safe and protected during these uncertain times. In his wisdom, he has sent a number of his most loyal soldiers to every province across the empire in order to –’
Intimidate the commonfolk? Spy on the Etheri? Ensure his influence extends far and wide beyond his kingdom in order to seize the Imperial throne under false pretences?
‘– keep the peace,’ the soldier finishes.
It takes everything I have not to scoff.
‘It’s true, then?’ Fox says. ‘There’s to be a war?’
The soldier’s eyes are a little clouded from drink. They keep coming to rest on me, and perhaps I’m imagining it, but every time they do, I feel Fox’s arm tighten.
‘Not as long as the Castellion boy does his duty to the realm and names his uncle regent.’ The soldier raises his voice, slurring as he chants, ‘Long live King Balen!’
His comrades echo him. Several of the onlookers join in, raising their glasses.
Fox’s voice is as tense as his grip as he grits out, ‘Long live King Balen.’ Then he takes my hand and pulls me up the staircase.
I glance back to see the Ventalla soldiers calling for more ale before proceeding to entertain themselves by sending little jets of wind up the innkeeper’s skirts.
I don’t dare breathe until the door to our room is locked behind us. The space is cramped, the furniture modest: nothing but a rickety table, a small chest of drawers and, over by the far wall, its headboard carved from the bough of a tree – the bed.
My stomach swoops nervously.
Fox places his satchel carefully on the floor and Scout tumbles out, along with a few bones. He curses, rakes a hand through his hair, then crosses to the window. ‘I’m not sleeping until my uncle’s lapdogs have gone.’
I exhale slowly as I recall the soldier’s words. ‘So that’s King Balen’s plan. He’s not usurping Hal’s throne – he’s campaigning for regency.’
Fox nods. ‘A temporary position he no doubt intends to make permanent. My uncle understands that politics is a performance, and one’s success depends on how well they play their part. He knows he could never succeed in tarnishing Golden Boy with the same brush as you and me, so his attempts to discredit Haldyn are of an entirely different nature. He’s not turning him into the villain, but something far worse.’
