Page 45 of White Raven

The squeak of the saddle crooned in a rhythm with the constant clipping of hooves, our bodies swaying in measure. We stayed off the main road, keeping to the trails, making for a rougher ride. The sunset relocated around the horizon as the hours passed. We hadn’t said a word since we left the tower. The distress of what had happened got lost in the urgency to put distance between us and Beggar’s Hole.

What the Northerner told me about the old military base, my father’s keep, wound in my mind like a tapestry. I had seen the raven marker still positioned at the top of the tower, the Day Raven’s symbol. It was hard to dispute that the land used to be owned by my father.

Why would he lie to me? Why did no one talk about what had happened there? Or the implication that the Day Realm was losing territory to the Shadow Rift, land that could no longer grow nutrients?

Food.

The word burrowed through the hollowness of my stomach, the emptiness aching along with my bones. The Northerner grunted in my ear, his hand pressed into my abdomen, keeping me locked against him, feeling every time it screamed out in anger.

“Do you have a name?” Chalk it up to boredom, trying to get my mind off the hunger in my belly, the weariness in my bones and the need to pee.

He didn’t respond, the groan of the saddle ticking the seconds by.

“Unless you want me to keep calling you thrall.” My tone ticked with irritation, his stoic silence grating on my nerves. “You know mine.”

“Not willingly.”

“Don’t you think I deserve to know? I did save your life, after all.”

A huff blew from his nose, skating down the back of my neck.

“You don’t need to know my name.”

His response only heightened my annoyance. I felt defensive, as if he rejected me in some way. Which was stupid. We were still enemies.

“Embarrassed?” I taunted. “Is it something really bad, like Gerri, or Keith?”

“What is wrong with those names?”

“Did I hit a nerve? Is your name Keith?” I nibbled on my lip. “No, you look more like a Gerri.”

A rumble came from his throat. Yanking on the reins, he swung off the horse.

“Oh, did I offend you, Gerri?”

“What offends me is your voice.” He glared at me. “And your need to continuously yammer.”

“Yammer?” I laughed. “This is the first time I’ve spoken in hours.”

“And it’s still too much.” He huffed, swinging around and strolling down to a trickling stream. He crouched down, cupping the water into his mouth.

Glowering at his back, I slipped off the horse. The beast nipped at me the moment my feet hit the ground.

“What the fuck?” I scrambled back, shooting my glare at the animal.

The Northerner chuckled, grinning smugly as he drank more water.

“He feels the same.”

Scowling at both, I made my way to the stream, scooping up the liquid and pouring it into my mouth. The cool water soothed the back of my dry throat, the bitter tang of dirt coating my tongue. It tasted awful, but I was desperate to relieve my parched throat and fill my belly with something else besides acid.

“We’ll make it to the township of Blackwater in a few hours,” he muttered, like telling me anything went against his code. “There we can rest, get a meal.” His gaze flicked to my growling stomach.

“Blackwater.” I’d heard of it before. It was a place where the worst of criminals and outlaws ended up. A place that excited me as a child with its long history of villainy and debauchery. To me it was so far away and made-up, I’d forgotten it was a real place.

“It’s the center of Shadow Rift, the main settlement between the Day and Night realms.”

“I know.” I swallowed down more water with a scowl.