I rub my forearm across my eyes.
Aodren’s head flops to the side, weighing his body down to the right. I nearly lose my grip. Since I cannot have him breaking his neck on royal grounds, I hold him firmly to me, allowing his head to tip against my shoulder.
I check his head for lumps to perhaps uncover how he was knocked out. His silky hair glides over my fingers, surprising me with its softness. Despite the events of the day, a smile cracks across my mouth at how easily his fair perfection messes up. After a moment or two, it’s clear he doesn’t have a head injury, so I pull my fingers away, but not before running them through his strands of gold once more. For good measure.
An hour later Snowfire’s steps echo off the wood beams and stone supports of the bridge that arcs over the steep valley surrounding the stone beast, Castle Neart. A slight touch of fear gets me to nudge the king in the side. Once I came here unconscious. The time before that, I was shackled. Last thing I want is for the castle guards to think I’ve harmed the country’s leader and done away with his men.
I’m tempted to withdraw my bow from the saddle holder. “Hey, wake up.”
Aodren moans and mutters garbled nothings.
I tug away the rest of the cut rope that’s been hanging on his legs.
Aodren’s sleepy jade eyes turn to me. He lets out a behemoth of a yawn. “Thanks. It . . . was chafing . . . me.”
I stare at him for a minute, not sure what I was expecting from His Royal Highness. “You doing all right?” I ask, after a beat.
He squints, golden brows lowering. “Yes . . . thanks to . . . your help.” It’s a scratched crackle of a sound. He clears his throat. And his expression turns more somber. “You . . . you said my men didn’t make it.”
“I’m sorry.”
Perhaps it’s the tired haze mixing with a frown, but the seeming sadness and vulnerability looking back at me softens my attitude toward the man. “I should’ve died . . . died with them.”
“No,” I say, and then stop, unsure where to go from here.
“Regardless. It . . . appears I’m in your debt . . . again.”
Now that he’s found his tongue, I’m surprised by his candidness. His reaction makes me see Aodren in a different light. He’s not the detached ruler I always believed him to be. I don’t know what I was expecting; perhaps that he’d ask again if Phelia is my mother. But I’m grateful he didn’t. I’ve always thought him presumptuous and pompous. I like this King Aodren more than the king who usually visits my home.
I dip my chin, not sure what to say. Anytime seems like the natural response, only I don’t really want to sign up for that, and considering it’s a bit lighthearted for the situation, I settle for “You’re welcome.”
The royal guards tend to strike first, question later. Two men approach Snowfire as we stop at the outer gate. I fear what conclusion they’ve formed upon noticing their king, sans guards, riding with me. My heart shifts into a rickety state.
“I have King Aodren,” I blurt, though it must be obvious. Times like these I could crack myself over the head. When the king doesn’t open his mouth, I consider doing the same to him.
Say something. I poke him in the spine, and he speaks, thank the gods.
“Open . . . the . . . gate.”
The two guards, like scared dogs, cower into bows before scurrying to the guardhouse and yelling into the courtyard at their fellows. Not a moment later, the metal teeth of the gate screech upward from the bridge’s end.
How can I explain that King Aodren was attacked in the forest by a Spiriter without giving myself away? The guards will question the death of the king’s men who didn’t return. I doubt anyone besides Cohen, Captain Omar, Leif, Gillian, and me know what happened in the king’s quarters that day over a month ago. If I want a chance at living a peaceful life on Papa’s land, that’s a secret that’ll have to follow me to passing.
Other than the guard holding his sword ready, they’ve made no threat on my person. Still, I watch them carefully as the guards escort us beneath the spiked metal gate to the outer keep.
The yard smells of smoke and manure. Two men emerge from the stables. At the sight of the broad-shouldered red-headed bear of a guard, relief cracks the tension weighing on me since the glade.
“Britta.” Leif rushes to my side. “You’ve been riding?”
With the king? can be heard in his tone. He knows I’d never visit Castle Neart of my own volition. Nor spend time alone with the country’s ruler.
I shrug, having no answer to give in front of present company.
A groom lays down braided thrushes for the king to dismount onto. I slide off Snowfire’s other side into the stable dirt.
Leif approaches me while others swarm Aodren. I wonder if it’s always this way for him, men at his heels to do his bidding. I scrunch up my face. Seems that way.
Leif takes my bow from Snowfire’s holder and gives it to me. “Tell me what happened.” Coming from him, it doesn’t seem so much like a command from one of the king’s guard as it does a nudge from a good friend. He escorts Snowfire and me into a stall at the back where the stable is empty.
“He was attacked in the Evers.” My voice drops to a whisper. “I found him unconscious.”
“What about his men? Where were they?”
“Both dead.”
Leif’s shock turns his ruddy complexion pale. “Have you informed the gate guards? Anyone?”
I shake my head.
“Captain Omar needs to know right away.” He starts to leave but must see the distaste on my face. “I thought you were past that.”
I straighten my quiver and hold my bow to my chest. “Would you like to see the scars on my back?”
Leif has the decency to wince. He softly chucks my shoulder with his fist. “I’ll do all the talking. Yeah?” He signals a groom, who comes in with brushes and a towel for my sweating horse.
I mutter an agreement and reluctantly fall into step with him, trailing the guards and Aodren.
Leif veers closer, lowering his voice. “They’re going to ask how you came to be alone with the king. It’s better to have the captain on your side for this.”
I chew my lip, because though Leif has visited me nearly every day, I still haven’t confessed the connection that was forged between the king and me. I cannot tell anyone until I’ve told Cohen. There’s also the matter of telling Leif and Captain Omar that the Spiriter who conspired with Lord Jamis is nearby. She isn’t alone. And she claims to be my mother.
Unlike the few times I’ve been here before, the inner court is empty of lords and ladies. The guards must be pleased about this, seeing as the moment they got Aodren off the horse, they formed a cocoon around him. The guards can relax their circle.