“Brax…” How different his name spoken from her lips sounded. Even when she was taunting him. She didn’t know all the mistakes he’d made in the past, all the times he had drowned his moods in the burgundy wines of Ackwood in female company. Yes, she knew that everyone at court saw him as a spoiled brat, as an unworthy replacement for Josh… But he had opened up to her. Even when it had been just mere sentences of truth.
“Take it,” he said and closed her hand around the necklace with his fingers, a smile that was about as confident as a little boy walking on thin ice on his lips. “Take it and think of me when you wear it, Child of Vala.” As I will think of you.
Gandrett’s hand hovered before her, Brax’s gift weighing heavy in her palm as she watched him prowl toward the palace. Uncertainty wove its path down deep inside her chest and took root. Brax.
She was still staring after him when Nehelon’s familiar voice—the emotionless one—tore her from her thoughts. “I chose Lim as your mount, as you are already acquainted.”
Gandrett’s head whipped around to face the Fae male, the black mare and bay gelding at either of his leather-armored shoulders. It was the same armor he’d worn the day she had found him climbing the walls of Everrun, only this time, there was no Brenheran coat of arms decorating his chest. He could have passed as a hired guard for any wealthy carriage-owner. So that was what she was supposed to perform as.
“You never told me his name,” she said and reached her hand for the gelding’s mane.
“He might be your only confidant once I leave you at Eedwood Forest.” His face was tight as he glanced at her hand as if he knew what was hidden inside her fist, and she dropped it to her side, where it vanished between the folds of her skirt.
Nehelon blinked and reached for his mare’s nose, caught looking.
“I am used to being on my own,” was all she said and caught a flicker of emotion crossing his features even if he turned sideways to hide it, fingers petting the side of the mare’s head under the plain leather bridle. “Does she have a name, too?” Gandrett eyed his horse, which seemed to stare her down with black eyes.
“Alvi.” He didn’t turn back to meet Gandrett’s gaze as he offered Gandrett Lim’s reins. “You can ride beside me or take the carriage. It is up to you.”
Of course he wasn’t going to delay their trip. Ever the soldier. That was how she saw him. Even if he was carrying the title of chancellor in this court. But to her, all she saw was someone born to fight, to kill. It was there in his muscled arms, in the powerful lines of his legs and torso as he pushed himself up onto his mount, Lim’s reins still in hand. It had accompanied her every day since the moment she had fought him in the desert. Even if he had let her glimpse the man—the male—hidden beneath that warrior.
“I’ll ride,” she simply said and nodded at the carriage-driver who had jumped down from the seat do open the door for her. A hired carriage, not one of the ornately decorated Brenheran carriages she had spotted coming and going over the weeks.
Gandrett could swear a smile was tugging on Nehelon’s lips as she reached for Lim’s reins with her free hand, but the muscles in his jaw flicked, informing her he was biting back any emotion.
“We rest at noon and make camp at nightfall,” he said and kicked Alvi’s flank, setting the horse in motion.
The carriage followed suit, and Gandrett used the moment to slip Brax’s gift in the pocket of her fine, cotton riding dress before she climbed up on the horse and caught up with Nehelon at the nearby gate.
As they rode out into the city, Gandrett’s eyes saw it like a new world.
The half-timbered houses were still the same as was the calm water of the canal that wound along the road. But Gandrett suddenly noticed varieties of colors and fabrics that indicated the status some of the bearers had in the town. She noticed the smells of fried and baked fish and could distinguish them. She noticed how some of the people stopped to inspect the passing carriage emerging from the palace and how the eyes—especially the women’s—lingered on Nehelon’s powerfully built body. He inclined his head at some of them, and much to Gandrett’s surprise, some giggled.
The music emerging from open windows and doors was a mixture of Sivesian folk songs and foreign tunes that could as well originate from the southern territories.
None of them reminded her of the prayer songs of Everrun, though. Those melodies were for the temples of Vala where the Vala-blessed priests and priestesses served, where one day, Surel may serve.
Automatically, her head turned south-east, and she rode in silence, wondering how her friend was faring while they slowly made their way to the draw bridge out of the city.
Nehelon quietly spoke to her of the details of the plan as the capital of the west disappeared behind them, sun kissing their faces from the east and fresh breeze speaking of the Northern Mountains. He spoke of how he was going to usher the wolf toward her with his magic once the Denderlain hunting party was within reach. In two days’ time, if they kept a steady pace.
After a quick and quiet lunch, they switched to the carriage, giving their mounts some rest, and when night settled, the carriage driver helped Nehelon set up camp while Gandrett found a couple of bushes to see to her needs. When she returned, Nehelon was digging bread and cheese from a box and placing them on small, wooden plates he had perched on a tree trunk nearby where the carriage was parked at the edge of the forest, north of the Ackpenesor River.
“The carriage will take us to the outer edges of Eedwood Forest,” he explained, glancing at her over the plate he was handing her. “Mckenzie packed fresh clothes for you to wear when you go hunting.” The emphasis on the word reminded Gandrett what was expected of her. And her hair stood.
“Why bring a carriage at all?” She asked, ignoring the prospect of enamoring the enemy’s son to be able to find her target. That’s how she had started thinking about her task. A simple mission to retrieve a rich bastard’s heir and use any means necessary in the process. She would go on many missions after this one. And she would do worse than deceive people. That much she knew from those few conversations she’d had with returning members of the Order of Vala. “We could just ride the whole distance.”
Nehelon pulled more bread from the box, turning his back toward her. “Because if you are to arrive exhausted and dirty, no one will believe you are who you claim to be.” He handed one plate to the driver, who nodded in acknowledgment. “Don’t worry about Farlon,” Nehelon added as he noticed Gandrett’s unsure glance at the man. “He is one of my most trusted men.”
Farlon inclined his head at Gandrett. “Pleasure, Miss Brayton.”
Gandrett forced a smile. “And who exactly am I to claim to be?”
“Gandrett Starhaeven.”
Gandrett felt a laugh build up in her throat. A real one. He couldn’t have picked a more stupid name.
“Sounds like a fairy princess,” she commented, a hint of a laugh escaping with her answer.
In response, Nehelon gave her a daunting look.
He didn’t comment. A fairy princess. None of the fairies—the Fae—were alert since they had been sent into dormancy a long, long time ago. Thank the gods none of them were. And that it was him she was speaking to. Any other Fae might have decapitated her for merely joking about Fae royalty. He should scold her for even taking the word in her mouth. If anyone found out just how much he knew about Fae princesses, he would find himself chained up in ribbons of iron in no time. He should—