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Chapter 1
Rina
Dawn has finally leached the inkiness from the sky. As their backdrop fades, the stars have disappeared one by one until only the brightest remains; the North Star. I watch its valiant attempts to stave off the inevitable.
I wonder if that will be me soon, swallowed whole by circumstances beyond my control. Probably. But I take strength in knowing it endures. Whether it can be seen or not, it’ll be back tonight, as permanent as ever.
North marks the direction we’ve been traveling in for the past five days. I have the silly notion that when we finally arrive at our destination, the North Star will be directly overhead. I saysillybecause, so far, all my questions about our journey have gone unanswered and I’ve been forced to dream up my own answers.
From my spot sitting on the creek bank, I lean over to dip my fingers into the icy water. I’m already chilled to the bone so its temperature doesn’t so much as elicit a shiver. I won’t complain though. No matter how miserable I am now – cold, hungry, and unable to sleep – I know it could be worse. Last week I was living my three hundred and seventy-fourth day locked in a chamber by order of my cousin, Gaden, the King of D’heilar. At least here in the wilderness, I can see the sky. At least here in the wilderness, I can muster some optimism for my future.
A future which includes marrying a man I’ve never met. A barbarian no less.
My empty stomach turns over. I’m not sure if it’s dread or hope that causes it, but I wish I had somethingcertainto cling to. All I know of my betrothed is his name, and I only learned that much because I overheard him mentioned in conversation among my five-man escort.
His name is Luka, and he’s one of their kings –or deves– as they’re known in the barbarian realms of the north.
“Rina!” hisses through the air, startling me. “What inthe Mother’sname are you doing down here? Noé is about to send the twins out to hunt you down.”
I turn to find Bron, the youngest of my escort, halfway down the short embankment, looking slightly panicked.
My shoulders sag at the thought of another grueling day of travel. “I’m just washing up.”
“Well, hurry!” He traipses back up the hill, and then in the distance, I hear him reassure the others that I haven’t run off.
I want to roll my eyes.Run off to where?There’s nothing for miles and miles around. It’s been days since we’ve passed a single homestead . . . which probably means we’re nearing the River Colundra, the natural border between D’heilar and the Realms.
No one in their right mind would live this close to barbarian territory. Though the incursions have eased off considerably in recent years, barbarian raids into the northern regions of my homeland are infamous for their callousness.
Figuring I won’t like it if Noé usescallousnessto come and get me, I push to my feet on aching legs. Not only is my cloak too thin for the very late autumn weather this far north, but my cold muscles are unaccustomed to riding after my year-long incarceration. Wincing with every step, I slowly make my way up the hill.
I’m sure my cousin, the King, would be thrilled if he could see me now. His lifelong campaign against my family culminating in my being brought low before these barbarians would be a dream come true for him, what with them being our sworn enemies and all.
The relationship between our two nations has always been contentious, but the origins of the tension remain a somewhat murky subject. Even if the monarchs of D’heilar have done everything to convince their subjects it’s a cut and dried, good versus evil situation, I’ve read conflicting accounts of the Northern Rebellions against the Crown. Some claim that it was actually the Crown’s cruel taxation and conscription system in the face of floods and famine that forced our northern people to rebel and ultimately move across the River Colundra. Maybe they left of their own accord, or maybe they were expelled. Either way, they weren’t supposed to flourish or become a permanent thorn in the monarchy’s side, but that’s what happened.
Nowadays, however, D’heilar and the Realms have a more pressing problem: the rise of the savages along our common border on the eastern flank. Over the last five to ten years the situation has become dire enough that the two sides have been forced into a tentative truce. And apparently my marriage to a barbarian is meant to stick the two halves more firmly together, the two halves that have been at odds for more than two centuries. The phrasesacrificial lambcomes to mind.
At the top of the small rise, I spy the barbarians through the trees, packing up the camp. I still haven’t gotten used to them. They’re nothing like the groomed and mild mannered men of the south who prefer pretense and doublespeak to get their points across. These men don’t bother with anything of the kind. They say what they mean, and mean what they say, unafraid to insult one another or even me.
Noé, the leader, has been cranky from the start, obviously unhappy with being assigned the task of chaperoning me north. “You’ve missed breakfast,” he gripes as I approach, the ivory beads in his long black hair clinking together. “You’ll just have to go hungry.”
I give him a terse nod instead of the crude gesture I want to shove in his face. His attitude toward me has really begun to chafe, but so far I’ve kept my temper. There’s no sense in making an enemy of him before I have a complete picture of what my new life will have in store for me. I can already see that I’ll have an uphill battle though. These men have completely rebuffed my attempts to make conversation with them. It seems they’re not willing to let bygones be bygones with our peoples’ long history of hatred and ill-will hovering over us like an ugly spectre.
“I don’t know if starving her is such a good idea,” is drawled from behind me, sending a jolt through my chest. “She’s already so scrawny.”
Jerking around, I come face to face with Cayson and Carson, their eerily identical sneers sending an unpleasant chill down my spine.
“And combined with that dung-colored dress? Ugh,” one of them continues; I still haven’t figured out how to tell the twins apart. “A fine bargain Luka has struck.”
“Shut up,” snaps Noé. “If you cannot control your tongue, Carson, I’ll cut it out.”
The casual violence of the words curdles in my hollow stomach, probably because I can imagine such a scenario playing out. There’s a physicality to these men that often makes me uneasy.
“Oh, I’d love to see that,” Cayson says with a snicker to bait his twin, using the back of his hand to whack the other man’s chest. In retaliation, Carson shoves him.
“Mount up,” Noé orders like he’s sick of both of them. At least we can agree on that. I don’t really trust any of them, but it’s been obvious from the start that the twins are the worst of this group. Their insults don’t bother me as much as the way their unnerving, light-colored eyes constantly follow me around. I try to keep constant tabs their whereabouts just to be safe.
I make my way around my horse to where Bron is finishing up with my saddle. “Thank you,” I whisper, hoping he understands I’m referring to the help with my horse and the warning down at the creek. He nods as he slips me a piece of dried meat before walking away. I quickly squirrel it away into the pocket of my cloak, feeling a spark of gratitude toward him.
