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“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Good. You can’t call me that now, Saeth.”
He inhales, looking confounded for a moment, probably because he can’t really call meHarristaneither. When I was a boy, sneaking into the Wilds with Corrick, I used the name Sullivan, and I almost give it to Saeth. But my tongue stalls. For some reason, just now, that feels … special. A name to be shared between my brother and me.
Cory. Please be well.My chest threatens to tighten, and I shake off the sentimentality. I turn my thoughts to the present.
I think of Violet. I think of Maxon.
“Call me Fox,” I say. I nod at the chestnut. “Mount up. We need to move.”
Saeth was able to find strips of dried beef that have been rolled in cinnamon and nutmeg, along with two peaches that are only a little bruised. I haven’t eaten anything since the nut bread that Maxon prepared, so I want to inhale it all, but I offer half to Saeth.
He looks surprised by that, a frown line appearing between his eyebrows. “No. Thank you.”
I hold out a peach and two strips of beef anyway. No matter how hungry I am, I can’t afford weak guards. “Eat,” I say. “We don’t know when we’ll be able to find more.”
He obeys. We ride slowly and stay off main paths, crossing creeks and doubling back time and again so our tracks can’t be followed. My trousers are still tacky with blood, especially since I reopened the wound trying to get on the horse. I wouldn’t be recognized as the king, but an injury like this would definitely draw attention.
It’s the guard at my side that’s more worrisome, especially if rumor spreads that the king was traveling with two palace guards. In the dark, it might not be a concern, but in the bright light of day, Saeth is just too conspicuous. He left most of his livery at the workshop, but his trousers are the rich blue of his uniform, his polished black boots gleaming in the sunlight. Each weapon bears gold filigree, right down to the hilt of his daggers and the buckle of his belt.
I consider Quint, in his palace finery, and Thorin, who’d be attired similarly to Saeth. Maybe they didn’t make it very far at all. Worry begins to crowd into my thoughts, and I force it away.
As we get closer to Artis, we begin to see people through the trees, families and workers going about their business.
“Stick to the shadows,” I say.
“Yes, Your—”
I give Saeth a sharp look, and he breaks off, then gives me a nod. “Yes, Fox.”
Eventually, we near an area where the Wilds begins to give way to the sprawling main city of Artis. The bulk of the sector is on the other side of the Queen’s River, but there are enough people here toform a bustling city. Men and women come and go along the wall, children in tow, squalling infants strapped to the chests of women who are burdened with parcels or sacks. Larger carriages and wagons rattle along the road, too, and I carefully watch for any vehicles that might originate from the Royal Sector, but so far I haven’t seen anyone.
After a while, distant hoofbeats pound the earth, and we pull farther into the dim light of the woods. A horn sounds, and people begin to clear the road.
I know those horns. The palace guard.Anyonein that contingent would recognize us.
I draw my horse to a halt and exchange a glance with Saeth. I’m split with indecision, whether I should dismount and attempt to stay out of sight behind the animal, or if I should stay right here with the means to run if I need it.
The horse tugs at the reins and paws at the ground, sidestepping agitatedly. “Shh,” I murmur, keeping my eyes on the road.
I don’t need to worry. A dozen guards gallop through without stopping.
I look at Saeth. “Did you recognize any of them?”
He nods. “Some of the outer guards. I didn’t see the mark of your personal guard on any of them.” He hesitates, then looks at me. “By now, Captain Huxley will know Thorin and I are with you. It’s possible they’ve restricted the rest of your personal guard to the palace—if not the Hold.”
I frown. I hadn’t considered that.
Saeth adds, “It’s also possible that Thorin and Master Quint have been captured, and those guards were summoned to bring them to the palace.”
I hadn’t considered that either.
“Advise,” I say.
He takes a moment to consider, looking from the road to the town ahead, then back to me and my injured leg. “We could try following them—”
“Following them!”
