The Disappearance of Winter's Daughter (Riyria Chronicles #4)

Rolling hills and quaint farms disappeared as Royce and Hadrian headed into the Majestic Mountains. The jagged snow-swept peaks that ran from the Senon Uplands to Amber Heights divided Warric from Alburn, west from east, new from old. As always, Royce left the road to avoid the city of Colnora, maintaining his truce with the Black Diamond Thieves’ Guild. They found the byway again near the Gula River and followed it into Alburn rather than risk the snows of the Amber Heights pass. Crossing to the far side of the Majestics, they entered a different world. The landscape reflected the transition. Rolling green hills turned into jagged mountains, river gorges, and ocean cliffs. Oaks and maples became pines and junipers. Snow reappeared at the higher elevations and dense fog hugged the seaside. The population was isolated in pockets—valley villages, they were called—and Royce and Hadrian had passed through several of these hamlets without stopping. The local folk didn’t seem to like strangers.

“Is that it?” Royce asked as the two sat astride their mounts looking at a city clutched in a river valley below. Although the town wasn’t as sprawling as Colnora; the buildings were packed tighter and appeared taller. Hadrian and Royce were still miles away, and from that distance and at that height, the place looked peaceful. Surrounded on three sides by snowy peaks and the open ocean on the fourth, it looked idyllic.

“I think so,” Hadrian replied. “I haven’t actually been there, but that’s definitely the Roche River, and the city of Rochelle is supposed to be where it meets the sea, or the bay, I guess. The Goblin Sea is farther east. I think this—” he pointed to the cliff beside them, which dropped to an ocean inlet where waves announced the incoming tide—“is called Blythin Bay. At least it was six years ago, and I don’t know why they would have changed the name.”

By then, the two had been on the road for five days, always camping and avoiding cities or towns. The trip had been warm and dry, but according to the sky, all that was about to change.

The hood tilted upward, scanning the darkening sky. “Bad weather on the way. Best get down there. What do you know of this place?”

“I never came to Rochelle. I was only in Alburn for a few months. That was when I served in the military for King Reinhold. Most of that time I was bivouacked up on Amber Heights. I spent my days watching Chadwick’s First Regiment, waiting for them to invade.”

“Why just a few months?”

“Because less than a year before, I was in that same regiment. Lord Belstrad, the commander, gave me a medal for my part in the Second Battle of Vilan Hills. I knew all those men. Several were my friends, and everyone knew old Clovis was itching to attack Alburn and take the heights. So, I left. Disappeared in the middle of the night.” Hadrian looked east across the inlet to where he could just make out the far coast, a thin green line fading in a rising mist. “I shipped over to Galeannon and kept right on going, all the way to Calis. Amber Heights wasn’t the first time I faced the prospect of fighting past friends. So, I figured if I went far enough away, it couldn’t happen again.”

“Did it?”

“No.” Hadrian sighed. “Instead, I only slaughtered strangers.”

Hadrian expected a quip from Royce or at least a snide comment. The hood was silent.

“So, I can’t say I know much about Alburn, even less about Rochelle. As a whole, about the only thing I remember is it being odd.”

“Odd?”

“Unfriendly, secretive, and above all, superstitious. The east is different. Those who live in the sunset shadow of the Majestic Mountains are peculiar, and not in a good way. You’ll see. None of my memories of Alburn are good ones, but . . . well, I can’t say as I recall much that was good from those years. Maybe I’m biased.”

“Good to hear you don’t have fond memories, given the nature of this job.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re not here for a social call. None of this helping to save people or advising nobles. We’re here to hunt. Been a while since I did wet work. There’s a certain . . . clarity that comes with executions.”

“We’re not here to kill anyone,” Hadrian said. “We’ve come to rescue the duchess.”

Royce drew back his hood to look at Hadrian, or maybe it was merely so Hadrian could see the mocking smile. “You understand Winter’s daughter is dead, right?”

Hadrian shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

Royce’s eyes widened. “The Duke of Rochelle married her for her money, then arranged a convenient accident to rid himself of the excess baggage. He’s probably done it before, and he’ll likely do it again with another rich daughter or perhaps an elderly widow.”

“You don’t know that.”

They reached a ridge where the trail twisted down a narrow pass, which was steep enough that the rocks kicked by the horses’ hooves started a tiny cascade. Seabirds cried overhead, and the wind coming off the water howled.

“Of course I do. Gabriel Winter was right. Dukes don’t marry middle-aged, ugly merchant’s daughters for love. He wanted the money. That’s how the world works. People are motivated by money, power, security, and . . . well, that’s pretty much it. Actually, when you think about it, they’re all variations on the same theme.”

“So, you don’t believe in love?”

“Love is another word for lust or dependence. People confuse it with all sorts of other things, fantasies and wishful thinking, mostly.”

“Oh really?” Hadrian urged his horse to catch up, as Royce’s mare had a tendency to inch ahead. “Then tell me, O wise one, was it lust or dependence that caused you to risk your life to rescue Gwen from prison? And what fantasy or wishful thinking drove Gwen to hide and nurse us back to health despite the danger?”

Royce urged his horse ahead.

“Oh, and tell me, Sir Genius, why is it you can’t remember your own name when she’s around, but you haven’t dared to kiss her?”

The hood came up again.

“That’s still not an answer.”





The city of Rochelle proved to be a congested hive of activity. Carts, wagons, and carriages packed cobblestone streets trapped between tall buildings. The soaring stone architecture, with its pointed arches and ornate fa?ades, made Hadrian feel small, and not merely in size. Like the cathedral in Medford, the grandeur here left him feeling unworthy and unwanted, which was one of the reasons Hadrian never had much interest in religion.

The sun hadn’t quite set, and yet the shadows of the buildings created a premature night on the streets below. Crowds moved through pools of radiance cast by illuminated shop windows. Among the men with walking sticks and ladies in gowns strolling the sidewalks, Hadrian spotted dark-skinned laborers in eastern garb and dwarven crafters bustling along the gutters. A man on stilts and a boy with a spitting torch cut through the mob, lighting streetlamps. A lady in a lavish cloak walked a tiny pug-nosed dog on a leash, making Hadrian think of Lady Martel and Mister Hipple. A pair of men in red-and-blue military uniforms moved casually up the street while a matching pair moved down the other side, eyes watchful and suspicious.

The smell of woodsmoke, roasting meats, and baked pies filled the air. Throngs stopped to peer into the bright shop windows or surrounded peddlers’ carts, waving hands over their heads to catch the merchants’ attention. Horses’ tacks jingled; hooves clapped stone; bells rang; fiddlers played jaunty tunes; and barkers shouted about cheap shoes and shows about to start. “Come see the lizard-man shed his skin on stage!” Conversations poured over one another such that words were lost in the exchange, and yet Hadrian still managed to notice the accent. More lyrical and sophisticated than western dialects, the sound of the east was one of music and mystery. All of it served to remind him of a time he’d rather forget. He’d found such sights and sounds intoxicating as a youth, back when he was arrogant and stupid. Royce would argue he still was stupid, but his partner didn’t know the pre-Calian Haddy, the boy-soldier with the skill of a man. What a cruel and absurd joke: The more ignorant you realize you are, the smarter you become.

He glanced at Royce, whose hood panned left and right as he struggled to take everything in. Being overwhelmed was a common reaction for those who hadn’t traveled in these parts. When it came to the east, there was always too much—too much and yet never enough.