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Which I had.Signal?
Looking at me once more, panic written on her face, she whispered something to Sarolf.
“Henrike, this is more important now. Did you or not?”
“What is it?” I asked.
Balling her fists, Henrike stepped back from the window. “Please don’t. I refuse to have endured her for all this time, only to come back with nothing.”
Confusion, curiosity, and annoyance all shot through me like a cannonball.
“Could somebody please tell me what is going on?” I demanded.
My mind was racing with scenarios. What were they planning? One of the wealthiest princesses on this planet with two poor Northerners. The possibilities were endless!
“Sarolf, what is going on?”
He looked at me, his facial expression almost apologetic, before turning back to Henrike.
“Henrike, in the name of Kiri and the underworld she lives in, did you get a signal back or not?”
Henrike bit her lower lip, tears forming in her eyes. Then she shook her head.
“But you said earlier—”
“I lied,” she confessed.
Sarolf shook his head. “How could you lie to me about something like this! If something happens to her...or you!”
Henrike swallowed as her face pinched in frustration. “I knew you would overreact. Risk the only chance we have at getting our lands back to their former glory.”
“If something happens to her, our name will end with us. The king will make certain of it!”
“Your lands?” I said.
For a moment, I analyzed them both. Their black hair, the way they walked and talked. Why had I never questioned them before? No servant at my castle was as well-read and spoken as these two. Who were they, truly? Were they planning on selling me to some lord or, worse yet, the North King?
“Who are you?” My voice was low and threatening. I slowly stepped backward, edging toward the door. How could I have been so foolish? Maybe my father had been right about me not being fit to rule a kingdom on my own.
Henrike and Sarolf, if those were actually their names, stayed quiet, exchanging looks as if debating who would speak first.
“I will ask for the last time before I run out this door. Who are you? Smugglers?”
It was Henrike who threw her hands up and sighed. “Don’t be stupid. He is talking about your father’s men,” she said, as if this explained it all.
My head jerked back. “My father’s men?”
Sarolf nodded. “He had guards follow us, whom we’ve communicated with daily via signals with mirrors.”
I shook my head. None of this made sense. “My father’s men? But he doesn’t even know that I’ve gone north. He probably hasn’t noticed that I’m missing.”
That last sentence hurt to say since I truly believed it. I could picture him avoiding me for a few weeks before forcing me to marry some commoner.
“I see now why your father did what he did,” Henrike said.
Sarolf threw her a look with daggers, then came a little closer. Every step he took forward, I answered with one backward.
“Mina”—he sounded as if he were talking to a scared deer—“your father—”
