AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m riding with you,” I say. “This is my kingdom, and I will defend it.”
Victor smiles. “Of course you will ride with us, highness. You are our queen, and we cannot protect you if you aren’t with us. It is my charge to keep you safe.”
“Do not underestimate me, general. I am brave and strong. The spirit of my gram and my mother will ride into battle with me. And I will fight.”
“I admire your bravery,” he says, “even though you are but a wee thing. You have the heart of a stallion.”
“And the roar of a lion if not obeyed. Now, it is very late and you are in no condition to ride or tend those horses at the moment. You will sleep in the bedroom, and I will make myself a pallet bed in the apothecary.”
“You will do no such thing,” he says. “I will not put the princess out of her bed.”
“And I will not have my patient sleeping on a floor or in a hayloft. I won’t risk infection in that arm again. I need my general strong and ready to defend me in the coming days. Now, off to bed with you. I’ll lead the horses around back.”
“As you wish, your highness.” Sir Victor has a serious look. “There is another matter, your grace.”
“And what might that be?”
He clears his throat. “Have you given any thought to the fact that both of your parents were mages?”
“In what regard?” I know full well what he’s implying.
“In the regard that there is a strong possibility that you have the power to wield magic.”
I would be lying if I said that the thought hasn’t occurred to me a hundred times since learning my lineage, but the thought of possessing magic frightens me. What if there is no magic in me? If that be the case, would that somehow dishonor my parents? And I’ve been raised believing that magic is a bad thing. I haven’t a clue how to wield it, even if I wanted to.
“And if I do,” I say instead, “how would I know? Magic has never been a thought in my head, Sir Victor. It is strange and foreign—”
“And would be a powerful weapon against Malek if you could indeed wield it,” Victor notes. “It’s just a thought.”
He makes his way to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. I make my way to the apothecary, Victor’s words still fresh in my head. I retrieve the jar labeled Willow’s Wisp and shove it in my apron pocket. I pull on my coat and go outside. I lead the horses to the back and fence them in my neighbor’s feed pasture. I lean against my own backdoor and take in a few breaths of the crisp, icy air. I pull a match from my dress sleeve and my flintstone from my chemise. I think of Treena’s sharp tongue tonight in the town hall and her hatred for me simply because of the station I have always had in this world. I think about her lips on Jordy’s, then I think about his lips on my hand this evening. He can’t truly want Treena. How can that ever be?
I strike the match and watch it burn. “Why, Jordy?”
The flame nearly licks my fingers, but I blow it out and let it fall. The jar in my pocket illuminates ever so slightly, the light resembling a firefly, and I tug it from my pocket with shaky hands. I hold the jar up to my eyes and stare at the faint light until it resembles flames. A swirl of soft smoke fills the jar, and yet it remains cold to the touch. I tear off the lid to release the contents and that is when I hear it, nearly losing my breath. The jar slips from my trembling hands, but the words are still as clear.
“He’ll never take your magic away,Milla.”
The flames fade and the smoke disappears, but her words are clear in my exhausted brain. “Mother,” I mumble. “I hear you.”
I replace the lid and hold tightly to the jar. I know what I must do. And by the gods, I will.
CHAPTER 21
I am no swordsman, but I will ride with my men into battle. A sword will do me no good if I am cornered, but a dagger will serve me well. Sir Victor has already left for the day, meeting with members of the resistance. I have been instructed not to go into town, but I have one request that needs to be honored. I put on my heavy cloak after I am dressed and collect my coin pouch. I head out the door and make my way to the market square.
The blacksmith’s shop is my first order of business. More than a dozen men are hard at work, building the swords and armor our soldiers will carry into battle. I see Philip, the blacksmith’s son. He is the one I need.
“Master Philip,” I say when I am in front of him.
“Oh, be cautious, mistress,” he says. “This is a dangerous place to tread at this hour. You may soil your dress with the pitch.”
I lower the hood of my cloak.
“Princess!” he exclaims, and I put a finger to my lips. He lowers his tone, “Princess, how may I be of assistance?”
“I am in need of a dagger,” I say. “One that I can slide into my dress sleeve and retrieve with little effort.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem, highness,” he states, sizing up the length and width of my sleeve to see what he has to work with.
