My mother and father had proudly told me how good we Bellonans were at playing the long game, at waiting, lying, plotting, and otherwise manipulating people in order to get them to do what we wanted. My mother had told me countless bedtime stories about Bryn Bellona Winter Blair and how my gladiator ancestor had used her wits, skills, strength, and magic to found our kingdom. I wasn’t trying to do something that grand and important, but I had a sneaking suspicion that my survival depended on my playing the long game now, even though I had never attempted it before.
The woman glanced at the man, who shrugged. She looked at me again, another, wider smile creasing her face.
“Of course we can help. What happened?” She gestured at my dress.
I looked down. My dress was torn and ripped from the Winterwind attack, and blood also stained the tattered fabric, turning it more brown than blue. My blood—along with my mother’s blood.
Thinking about how the Mortan weather magier had killed my mother made bile rise in my throat, but I swallowed it down and focused on the strangers again.
“Oh, I . . . tripped and fell. Don’t worry. It’s not as bad as it looks. Just a few cuts and bruises.”
The woman nodded, seeming to accept my feeble explanation. “We were just about to stop and make camp.” She gestured at the clearing around us. “This looks like a fine spot. Why don’t you stay with us? We can talk about the best way to find your parents over a hot meal.”
She was still smiling and saying all the right things, but the smoky lie of her words curled through the air, along with her sour, sweaty eagerness and the man’s sharp, orange interest. I didn’t know what these people wanted, but they certainly weren’t planning on finding my nonexistent parents. Even worse, they both reeked of magic. The woman had the charred aroma of a fire magier, while the man was probably a mutt with enhanced strength, given how many knapsacks and bags he was so easily carrying.
Once again, I was tempted to run into the trees and try to lose them in the growing darkness, but another, stronger shiver swept over me, and my stomach grumbled again. I couldn’t trust these people, but maybe I could stay with them long enough to at least eat some food. At this point, I’d take whatever crumbs I could get, no matter how dangerous the situation might be.
So I forced myself to smile back at the woman as if I didn’t know that she was plotting something horrible. “Thank you so much! I’m so happy I ran into you!”
The woman glanced over at her partner, her expression turning much sharper and far more predatory. He shrugged again, agreeing with whatever she was silently asking.
The woman looked at me again. “My name is Rocinda, and this is Caxton. What’s your name?”
“Ev . . . ie. My name is Evie . . . Sancus.”
I had been about to say Everleigh Blair, but I couldn’t use my real name. Not with these strangers.
Rocinda smiled again. She really needed to work on faking a happy, pleasant expression. She was showing so many teeth that she looked like a witch in some old fairy tale who was eager to gobble me up. “Hello, Evie. You can tell us where you think your parents might be while we set up camp.”
I gave her a sunny smile in return, as if I had no clue that she was literally lying through her teeth. “That would be wonderful!”
Rocinda and Caxton slung their knapsacks down onto a patch of ground that was clear of the snow that dappled much of the clearing. Caxton also unhooked the rope from his belt and tied it around a nearby tree branch. The box on the end of the rope swung side to side like a clock pendulum ticking off the seconds. He didn’t remove the black cloth from the box, so I still couldn’t see what was under it.
Rocinda dug into her knapsack and pulled out several items wrapped in thick brown paper and tied off with string. She produced a knife from the folds of her feathered cloak, sliced through the strings, and unwrapped the papers, revealing long strips of beef jerky, thick wedges of cheese, and dried bloodcrisp apples and honey cranberries. The scents of the salty meat, buttery cheeses, and sweet, tart fruit made my stomach grumble again.
“Want something to eat?” Rocinda offered me a wedge of cheese.
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
I drew in a breath, but the cheese was just cheese, and not poisoned or tainted, so I sank my teeth into it. The sharp, tangy flavor exploded on my tongue, and I almost moaned with happiness. The cheese was nothing special, just a common cheddar, but it was still one of the best things I had ever tasted.
I quickly polished off that wedge of cheese and two more, while Caxton dug a small pit, arranged stones around it, and filled it with pine cones, along with some branches that he broke off the nearby trees. Rocinda used her magic to light a fire, then put some jerky strips into a small cast-iron pot, along with water, a few potatoes, and a couple of chopped carrots. Thirty minutes later, she passed me a steaming mug of rich, hearty stew.
While I was waiting for it to cool down enough to eat, I studied the magier again, and I spotted a small round pendant hanging off the thin gold chain around her neck. I glanced over at Caxton. He too was wearing a pendant and chain.
“That’s a pretty necklace,” I said. “Where did you get it?”
Rocinda seemed startled by my question, but she grabbed the chain, leaned forward, and held out the pendant, which was a gold coin stamped with a woman’s face. She watched me closely, like she was expecting me to recognize the symbol, although I didn’t.
She leaned back and let go of the pendant. “I got it on Fortuna. The island has a very famous statue of a gold woman.”
That was all she said, although I got the impression there was far more meaning to her words. Rocinda gestured at the mug in my hands. “You’d better eat your stew before it gets cold.”
The three of us sat there and sipped our meal. Rocinda peppered me with seemingly innocent, friendly questions, like who my parents were and what they did. I told her that my father was a miner, while my mother was a bookkeeper. Not rich by any means, but well enough off to make her think they might offer a reward for my safe return.
Caxton remained silent through the interrogation, slurping down several mugs of stew, although he kept glancing over at the box. Whatever was hidden underneath the black cloth must be quite important, given how often he checked to make sure the container was still secured to the tree.
Lies and plots aside, the meal passed by pleasantly enough, and the stew drowned out the grumbling gargoyle in my stomach. By the time we finished, the sun had set and the moon and stars had appeared in the night sky.
While the stew had been cooking, Rocinda had given me a black cloak from her knapsack, and I pulled it a little tighter around my body. The weather had been surprisingly mild over the past few days, but the temperature was steadily dropping, indicating that it was going to snow. Despite the danger, it was a good thing I had run into Rocinda and Caxton. Without their food, cloak, and fire, I probably would have frozen to death tonight.
Rocinda packed up the leftover food, while Caxton pulled out a knife and started trimming his fingernails with the sharp blade. Neither one of them was wearing a sword, but they both seemed to have plenty of long knives tucked away in their cloaks.
I subtly patted the side of my dress, feeling a hard lump beneath the fabric. They weren’t the only ones with a blade hidden in their pocket.