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Mounting my horse is painful. Every muscle in my body protests and it takes a mountain of will to keep the whimper that rises up inside of me stoppered. These men already believe me a weakling, but I refuse to give the idea any credence.
As we start off down the road, rather than focus on my aches and pains, I ponder Bron’s connection to the terror twins. Yesterday, I learned he’s their youngest brother and I still haven’t gotten over the shock. While the twins have been devoid of even a scrap of human decency from the beginning, Bron attempted to befriend me when we first set off on this journey. Noé put a stop to it, but that wasn’t Bron’s idea. I wonder if Bron’s uncharacteristic, easy-going manner compared to the others has something to do with his different style of clothing. He’s the only one who wears a tunic. The others all wear a thick leather vest with an insignia of a large cat burned into the leather at their left breasts. I assume it’s a uniform of sorts, marking them as soldiers.
Is my betrothed a soldier?With my luck, chances are high and he’ll be equally unpleasant as Noé or the twins. I won’t be deterred though. I don’t have the luxury. There’s no going back for me and I have every intention of making this marriage work.
This marriage toLuka.I wish I knewsomethingabout him. His age, or his disposition, or –
My horse sidesteps, causing my ankle to bang against the stirrup, and for the millionth time since we started this trip, a bolt of pain shoots up my leg. What I wouldn’t give for a proper pair of riding boots. To steady myself, I take some deep breaths and try to concentrate on my surroundings. The sun’s attempt to break through the bows of the endless evergreens today gives me a bit of a boost, but it’s just not enough to distract myself from the pain or the cold.
I tune into the rattle of the cart in front of me, over which I can make out Dix – the last man of my escort – complaining to Noé, once again, how it was such a waste of time to have brought ‘the infernal contraption’.
Dix has been annoyed about it from the beginning. The first time I met these five, enormous men, all of them except Bron had been wearing scowls worthy of an angry and suspicious crone on their pale faces.
“Where are your things?” Noé had demanded from atop his horse in a strangely accented voice that rang with scorn.
I’d lifted my chin and projected what I hoped was confidence. “My cousin, the King, has seen fit to send me to my new life unburdened by the past.”
His fierce expression had remained unchanged and it occurred to me that polite speech was lost on him. “It’s just me,” I’d clarified. I was wearing everything I owned.
That was the first time the terror twins had mumbled something about Luka getting the short end of the stick.
“Skeevy bastards,” I mutter under my breath. As if I’m not already nervous enough that my tan skin, black hair, and small stature won’t put Luka off. Then there’s . . . reflexively, I press the inside of my left arm against my side. Through the fabric of my clothing, I can feel the ugly, mottled skin that mars my ribs.
Memories of that horrible day begin to surface; the coal-hot blade, the taunting slurs, the unspeakable, penetrating agony of my singeing flesh. The contemptuous face of my tormentor forms in my mind and I do everything I can to banish it. DearestMother, how I despise him, Mattice Dulat, High Advisor to my cousin and all-around worm. Even if it’s been over a year since I’ve seen him, his cruelty still haunts me.
Desperate foranydistraction now, I strain to listen in on the terror twins’ conversation from further behind me. I catch snippets of their usual degrading talk of women and boasts of exaggerated sexual exploits. To say the least, it does nothing to fight my falling spirits.
I sigh, pulling the strip of meat from my pocket to nibble on it.
A few hours later the trees start to thin out and we come to what must be the banks of the River Colundra. I gasp with wonder. I’ve heard of the natural boundary between D’heilar and the Realms, but I’ve never laid eyes upon it. Dismounting, I join Noé at the water’s edge and watch the dark, cloudy water move past me like some kind of a creeping monolith. The far side is barely visible and I’m sure the placid surface hides a wicked undertow.
“We’re to cross that?” I marvel aloud.
A derisive noise comes from the back of his throat. “Don’t fall overboard. I won’t save you.”
“I’ll do my best,” I say wryly, earning me a look of mild surprise. It’s as if he didn’t believe I had a personality. I wonder if these barbarian men react to all women this way or if it’s only me. “Is this the end of our journey, then?” I ask.
“No,” he scoffs like he’s offended by my ignorance. “This is but the mid-way point.”
I want to point out that he’s responsible for myignorance, but men in the black uniforms of the Royal Army emerge from the trees on horseback and he goes to meet them.
Turns out the horses we’ve been riding are the property of the King, loaned to the barbarians for their use on the southern side of the river. The presence of the soldiers has me on edge after a year of being kept under lock and key and my ‘meeting’ with Mattice Dulat fresh in my mind. Being a prisoner is not an experience I want to repeat, so I remain as unobtrusive as possible. I don’t trust my cousin not to revoke the marriage deal and take me back into custody.
The provisions from the half-empty cart are loaded into a large, wide-bottomed boat. When it’s time to go, I eagerly climb in. Though I know how to swim, I doubt I’d make it to shore if we capsized, something that sends a zing through my veins and voids out the fear inspired by the King’s men. It’s wonderful to be out in the world andliving.
I sit in the bow, soaking up the sun, while the men pull the oars in long strokes. They don’t fight the current that carries us swiftly downstream, but work with it in order to hit a designated landing point on the opposite side. It’s all perfectly timed and gauged. They may be uncouth, but these men are clearly competent.
The heartfelt welcome of their barbarian comrades on the far side of the river takes me by surprise. Even though it’s not meant for me, the good-natured teasing makes the very air easier to breathe. A man wearing one of the leather vests and a wide smile wades into the knee-deep water and holds up his arms, offering to help me from the boat.
“My name is Dion, my lady. Let me get you back on dry land.”
There’s nothing untoward in his demeanor and I can’t help but respond to him with a smile of my own. “Thank you,” I say with what is undoubtedly too much feeling, but it’s been a very long while since anyone has offered me a civil word.
After setting me down on the bank, he leads me past fortified buildings that must be part of an outpost, complete with manned look-out towers that line the shore at intervals for as far as the eye can see. The place appears ready for war. Maybe the truce between D’heilar and the Realms is weaker than I realized. Maybe this marriage really will make a difference.
I’m shown to a large corral where the provisions are being re-loaded into a new wagon and horses are being brought out from the stables for our party. It seems with hours of daylight left, we won’t be lingering.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Dion asks as he saddles a mare for me, probably noticing my astonishment.
