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“Bella,” Rian says sharply.
I look from him to her. I’m still not fully sure what’s happening here. “There’s no royal court?”
“Oh no. There is.” She spits at Rian’s boots, then glares up at him, a trail of saliva clinging to her chin. “But you don’t need a liaison. You could negotiate with the king right now.”
My thoughts are spinning, but on that sentence, they go still. Even my heart seems to pause. The crew is paying attention now. Brooms have stopped. Chatter has gone silent.
I look up at Rian, backed by the sun. The wind tugs at his clothes and sparks color in his cheeks, but he’s staring back at me implacably.
I’m not loyal to Kandala. I never was.
“Go ahead, Your Majesty,” says Bella, choking on laughter again. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Harristan
I’m alone in the workshop for what feels like an hour, but is probably less than half. It’s not until Quint and Thorin are gone that I wonder if I should have had them wait until Saeth returned.
I’m not sure what good that would’ve done, though. Right now, time is our enemy. I’m terrified the night patrol will come crashing through the woods at any moment, waiting to drag me back to face whoever is willing to stand against me.
Or worse, waiting to execute me right here.
I limp to the horses, who’ve calmed somewhat, sweat dried into streaks along their flanks. They’re narrow driving horses, bred for harness instead of saddle, and I spare a moment to worry the animals aren’t broke for riding at all. I suppose I’ll find out in a moment. The bay gelding seems less flighty, so I adjust the bridle to remove the blinders, then use the dagger to cut the reins to riding length, knotting them together. I’m left with several feet of leather, whichI loop into a breastplate of sorts, tying it in place at the horse’s withers. Bareback, it’ll give me something to grip if I need it.
A branch breaks somewhere in the woods, and I freeze.
I wait an eternal moment, but nothing follows.
If the night patrol is close, I don’t want Saeth to have to waste time prepping the other animal. I make quick work of the other bridle, then fashion another workable breastplate.
My leg aches somethingfierce.
I think of Corrick and my chest tightens.
That ship is a farce, Arella said.It’ll never reach Ostriary.
Does she know? Or was she playing to the crowd? There’s no way to be sure.
I take a slow breath and force my thoughts into order. I can’t help my brother if I’m dead. I need to get on this horse so I’m not trapped.
I grit my teeth. I haven’t made a bareback mount in years. I grab hold of the reins and the straps of leather, then stride forward to swing aboard.
The horse shies sideways. My injured leg gives out. I end up in the underbrush.
I swear with words I’d never use in the palace.
My second attempt ends the same way. Maybe I should just start walking.
My third attempt gets me on the animal’s back. I’m so relieved aboutthatthat I nearly forget everything else I know about riding. The gelding has clearly had enough of this nonsense, because he jerks his head down, rounding his back to buck. I grab hold of the reins and get his head up. He sidesteps, pawing at the underbrush.
“Easy,” I say, a bit breathless, hooking a hand under the strap incase I need it. His tail swishes, but he stands, chewing the bit in irritation.
“This is no treat for me either,” I say, but I stroke a hand along the crest of his neck, and the horse sighs.
Another branch snaps, and I take up the reins again. Both horses whip their heads up this time, ears pricked. I nudge my heels into the gelding’s ribs, ready to gallop—or fall—but Saeth appears between the trees, and I let out a sigh of relief. He looks startled to find me on a horse, but I don’t wait for questions.
“I sent the others into Artis,” I say. “We should follow. Did you find food?”
