After my monstrous mistake of letting Annika escape, new tasks were added to our daily routines. Though everyone had hoped she’d died out there, Kawan wasn’t in the mood to take chances. To that end, patrols of the castle and the far perimeter of what we would call our grounds were mandatory at all times.
“Thank you for letting me come with you,” Blythe said. Again.
“It’s really no problem. Patrols should always be done in pairs.”
“I know . . . I just appreciate it.”
We were patrolling now, staying to the edge of the woods, surveying out as far as we could see. It was harder at night, more dangerous. I was debating spending the evening out here whether it was needed or not. Sleep was an elusive creature lately.
“Lennox?”
“Yes?”
“What are we doing out here?”
I finally moved my eyes from the horizon to her. “Patrolling?”
“No,” she said. “I mean, we train, and we wait . . . But do you ever wonder if that land is even worth fighting for?”
I narrowed my eyes, hearing Annika’s assertion that I’d been misled echoing in my head. My father had told me some of our history, and Kawan had filled in the gaps when he marched up to our house, saying our surname like a prayer. So much of what he and my father had discussed across our table lined up: the word Dahrain, the stories of the wars, the names of the other now-extinct clans. We didn’t have to live on the outskirts of other people’s land, he told us. We could go get our own one day.
“I just want to get our kingdom back,” I said. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted: a place that was truly mine.”
She seemed to ponder this as we continued our slow ride. “Can I ask a silly question?”
“Sure.”
“Why not here?”
“What?”
She gestured to the land behind us, the abandoned broken-down castle in the distance.
“Why couldn’t we make this home? We’re already here. We know the land, we know how to work it. We have resources . . . why not just start building real homes here?”
I stared at it, the place we were hiding. It was where I’d become the man I was, where I’d found Thistle, where I’d made the few friends I had. I had a corner of it all to myself, and I could make ends meet here if forced. It wasn’t as if it contained no comfort to me at all, but still . . .
“I can’t give up on Dahrain. And if I can’t be there, I’m not sure I could stay here if Kawan did. I’d find another patch of unwanted land and make it my own if I absolutely couldn’t go home.”
“Just head off on your own and build a country?” she asked, her tone skeptical.
“Nah,” I replied, smiling at her boldness. “Just a house. A real house. Not something for an army, something for a family.”
Our eyes met.
“With anyone in particular?” she asked.
“Blythe.”
“For instance, what about that girl?” she asked in a measured tone.
That girl.
There were hundreds of women in the castle; she could have meant anyone. But I knew she was talking about Annika.
“You were almost . . . gentle with her,” she continued. “You’re not like that with anyone.”
“That girl is the embodiment of everything I hate in the world,” I said firmly. “So if you’re going to spend your time being jealous, I’d choose a better subject.”
Blythe seemed mollified by that, and she turned her attention to the horizon again. Less than a minute had passed when she held an arm up. “Over there,” she whispered.
I followed her gaze and saw three figures walking across the western field. Men. Wide shoulders and narrow waists. Not running, so they were neither in danger nor desperate. Sacks across their backs, so they weren’t in need. Clad in the same pale green as the guards who’d been riding with Annika.
“Kadierian soldiers?” Blythe asked quietly.
I nodded. “If they’re on a mission to find us, that means there will certainly be more soon. If we lie low, they might turn back; it’s possible they don’t know what they’re looking for.”
“But if they do . . . ,” she whispered, reading my thoughts.
I unsheathed my sword as Blythe loaded her bow.
I dug my heels into my horse, and we were off.
They were aware of us almost instantly, looking up with horror-struck faces. I wondered whether they would draw swords of their own, or turn and run. But neither happened. As we approached, all three dropped to their knees, and the one on the left pulled a white scrap of fabric out of his pocket, holding it high in the air.
“Mercy!” he called.
I held out a hand, though Blythe was already pulling to a halt.
“We come in peace,” he assured us. “Our princess returned and told us all—”
“She lived?!” Blythe interrupted incredulously.
The man nodded. “She explained everything. Jago, Queen Evelina, the history of our peoples. King Theron wants to make peace.”
“That’s right,” the middle one said. He was skittish, eyes darting between us, his hands near his chin like a rat.
“Peace?” Blythe asked. “How?”
The one who spoke first cleared his throat. “He proposes a meeting on neutral land. There’s an island off the coast of Kadier,” he began, fumbling as he tried to open a map. “Come and talk with him. He means to open trading, give gifts.” He held up a parcel of papers.
I looked upon the meeting with a measure of skepticism. Could there truly be any peace between us? After everything that had happened? It was recognition at least, respect.
Still, I wasn’t keen on trusting any of them.
“You’re lying,” I insisted. “You’re lying and intruding. I will send you back to your king in a box.”
“No, no, no!” he cried out. “It’s true. Look. We have our knives for hunting. Otherwise, we’re unarmed. We only came to deliver our message and point you to the Island,” he assured me. “Take us in so that we can explain everything in full.”
Nothing about this felt right. It was too easy.
But I wasn’t in charge.
“Drop your weapons,” I commanded. They each pulled out a short hunting knife and threw it to the ground. “Take off your supplies as well.”
I dismounted, coming up to the man with the flag. “Arms out, all of you. We’ll tell your tale to our leader. He will decide your fate.”
