“She’s partial to apples,” he tells me. “She didn’t like being ignored and forgotten,” he adds after a moment. “But once she accepted it, she decided she didn’t want to go anywhere. Maybe you can help her find the adventurous soul she had in her youth.”
“I’ll try.” I walk over to find an apple, cutting it up for better bribes, and then I approach Hilde. Slowly.
She watches me warily, her eyes narrow. When she catches the scent of the apples, she brightens a bit, her front hoof pawing at the ground as she lets me approach her and takes the slice of apple I offer.
Placing my hands on her cheeks, I capture her gaze and hold her stare for long seconds. Her emotions whirl around, the anger melting a bit as she lets interest take its place. She’s been bored for so long. She convinced herself she’d never leave again and finally accepted it. But she wants to leave. I help her find that longing.
Finally, her eyes let go of the distrust she’d held in place for so many moons. She lets them fill with hope.
We spend another minute eating the rest of the apple, all of my fingers intact when we’re done.
“You’re good with animals,” Knut observes as he walks up to stand by my side, braving my smell yet again. I get the sense he’s measuring me, evaluating whether he can trust me. After a few moments he nods to himself and leans toward me.
“I know your secret,” he whispers, his gaze holding mine. I force my expression to stay flat—although my mind is scrambling for some response—as he continues. “I also know you followed us last night, heard our meeting with Troels. We’re involved in something important here,” he tells me. “We need people we can trust. You should talk to Frida and Ulfhild about our work.”
I watch him for a moment, struggling to keep my expression neutral. Bevin will be pleased if I get access to this group. And if Knut does know my secret, I need to tread carefully. “We all have secrets,” I respond vaguely, “but I’ll think about it.” He nods, one side of his lips tipping up just a touch as I turn back to the horse. I can’t lose the tenuous bond we’ve forged. “I’m going to ride you, Hilde,” I say. “Together we’ll find some fun.”
She watches, motionless, as I take the reins and lift my foot into the saddle. Shuffling a bit, she seems to ponder whether she’ll let me mount her. And then she pauses, standing still for me.
“Thank you, Hilde.” I stroke her neck for a moment and then lift my other leg to get settled on her back. She accepts her new rider without complaint.
“Send word as soon as you know anything,” Frida urges Knut as she motions to the guards to lead us away.
As one, we turn to follow them. Hilde is surprisingly compliant. Maybe she’s already realized she’d rather be on this bumpy road than stuck in her stall.
I’m grateful to be on the back of a horse again. To not be trapped in a carriage, relying on other senses because I can’t see anything. Even in the middle of the night, the stars unwilling to provide any light, I’m at peace. If we’re attacked, I’ll fight.
Twice along the way, I catch hints of a presence nearby. Maybe it’s the strange man who seems to have been following me. Or the Dróttning. Whoever it is, if I can sense them, they can sense me. I nudge Hilde to move faster until we’re far enough away to lose them, as I urge my heart to calm down and the butterflies in my stomach to still. Hopefully, their senses aren’t better than mine, and they lose me when I lose them.
It takes more than an hour to reach the boulders. And then we wait. In some ways, this is worse than fighting. If they were here, I’d know what to expect. Whether we can win. Instead, I’m stuck wondering about all of it.
When I feel the presence approaching again—realize it’s coming toward us—my stomach flips, sending my heart rate soaring.
I was wrong, I know now. Fighting is worse than waiting. We have too many people to protect and too few warriors to do it. If it’s the Kastali and they send more than a handful of people to capture us, we’ll be doomed.
But there’s nothing I can do. We’ll never outrun them. If we try, we’ll just appear guilty. So we wait. Again.
When I see him, I’m not sure if it’s relief or fright I feel. He’ll let us go. But only after I’m forced to talk to him. Part of me can’t wait. Another part—the instinct that kicks in when he’s near me—tries its damnedest to get me to flee. I squash it down. Like it or not, I need to hear whatever he has to say.
I’m not surprised when his eyes focus on me and his horse makes a beeline in my direction. When he’s a few feet away, he points his chin toward a teeny path into the forest. “We must talk. Follow me.”
“Please.” My tone is low, insistent.
“What?” he demands, his eyebrows pulling together to create one large caterpillar. I almost laugh. He looks so befuddled.
“Please follow me. I’m sure that’s what you meant to say.”
His mouth actually drops open as he stares at me.
Now I do laugh. He needs someone to tell him no every once in a while. He snaps it shut when my guffaw escapes, his jaw twitching. “Please,” he spits out before turning his steed to lead me into the forest.
We ride for nearly a quarter viku before he stops, spinning to look at me.
“I don’t know why you had to call me out here,” I mutter before he can speak. “They can hear anything you have to say to me.”
“You shouldn’t have come to these grounds,” he growls, urging his horse to close the distance between us. “Listen to me and listen well.Do notask Ulfhild or Frida about Knut’s work.Do nottell anyone—especially not Bevin—anything you’ve learned here. Leave Ulfhild’s house and don’t return. You’re playing a game you don’t understand. A dangerous game, that you can’t win. I won’t be able to help you much longer.”
I reel back, anger blossoming from my chest to fill every part of me. “I don’t answer to you,” I remind him. “And I don’t want your help. I’ll go wherever I must to survive. If I need to talk about what I’ve seen here, what I’ve learned, that’s what I’ll do.”
