But then, somehow I did. Somehow I was there. My reach longer, my advance faster than it had ever been before. She rode with me now, settled in my saddle against me. When I told the others that she would ride with me, I didn’t explain why. No one asked. The extra horses were tethered behind us.
We’d only been back on the trail for an hour when we saw dust in the distance, and then a squad. They spread out. They had spotted us too. Devil’s hell. How much more could we take on? There were at least thirty of them, and we were stuck on a wide open plain, the ruins far behind us.
I raised my hand, and our convoy stopped. I heard the rumble of murmurs behind me.
Blessed gods.
Jabavé.
Mother of demons.
What do we do now?
The order to turn around and try to make it back to the ruins was on my lips when I spotted something in the dust cloud.
“Your Highness,” Sven said, impatient for an order.
Something blue. And black.
“A banner,” I called. “They’re ours!”
Shouts of relief erupted, but then we all saw the same thing as they galloped closer. Lances pointed, weapons drawn. There was no mistaking their intent as they charged toward us. They didn’t know who we were. We waved our arms, but they didn’t slow.
“Something white!” I yelled. By the time they realized who we were, at least one of us would be impaled. But there wasn’t a scrap of white among us to wave.
“Our cloaks,” Lia said, and then louder, “Our cloaks are Vendan!”
The saddle blankets we wore were woven in Vendan colors and patterns. As far as they were concerned, we were a barbarian squad. Who else would be out here?
“Shed the blankets!” I yelled.
The patrol slowed as if they were conferring, but their weapons were still aimed. When they were within shouting distance, we identified ourselves, with our hands in the air, as Dalbreck soldiers. They cautiously approached, then stopped six lengths away, still poised to run us through. I ordered everyone to dismount and to keep their hands in sight and off their weapons. I helped Lia down, then Sven and I stepped forward.
“You bloody fools,” Sven yelled. “Don’t you know your own prince when you see him?”
Between our grime and blood spattered clothes, I wouldn’t have expected anyone to recognize us.
The captain squinted. “Colonel Haverstrom? Sven?”
I heard a collective sigh from the others. My muscles went slack for the first time in weeks. We were almost home.
“That’s right, you knucklehead,” Sven said, his tone full of relief.
“And, as much as I look like a stray dog, Prince Jaxon,” I added.
The captain looked at me strangely, then glanced at the soldiers on either side of him. He dismounted and stepped forward to meet me. His expression was grim.
“Captain Azia,” he said, introducing himself. “The entire Dalbreck army has been searching for you…”
Something about his expression was all wrong.
And then falling down on one knee, he added, “Your Majesty.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The moment stretched as long and fragile as spider silk blown taut in the wind. Longer. Impossible. Sven’s eyes watered. Tavish looked down. Orrin and Jeb exchanged a knowing glance. Even Kaden and Griz froze, though I wasn’t sure if they understood what the captain’s words meant. The young soldiers on either side of the captain looked confused. Even they hadn’t known. A fierce ache gripped my heart as everyone waited to see what Rafe would do. A cruel moment. But it was his and his alone to finish.
Your Majesty.
I only had a crescent view of Rafe’s face, but it was enough. He stared down at the captain as if he didn’t really see him. Only the clenching of his jaw, still streaked with dirt and blood, revealed anything. And the slow curling of his fist. Every small controlled gesture told me the news hit him hard—but he was well-trained. Prepared. Sven had probably been preparing him for this moment since he was a child. Rafe would do what was required of him, just as he had when he came to Morrighan to marry me. After two measured breaths, he nodded at the captain. “Then you’ve done your duty.”
A prince, in the turn of a moment and a few words, was now a king.
Rafe motioned for the captain to rise and said quietly, “When?”
It was only then that Sven put a hand on Rafe’s shoulder.
The captain hesitated, looking at the rest of us, unsure if he could speak freely.
Rafe eyed Kaden and Griz, then asked Tavish and Orrin to take them for a walk. He may have trusted them with a sword, but not his kingdom’s secrets.
It happened weeks ago, the captain explained, only a few days after the queen had died. The inner court was reeling, and it had been decided to keep the king’s death a secret. With no one on the throne and the crown prince missing, the cabinet wanted to hold back the news from neighboring kingdoms that Dalbreck was without a monarch. They explained the king’s lack of public appearances as mourning for the queen. The cabinet ministers ruled discreetly while a desperate search was launched for the prince. With top officers missing along with him, they assumed he was alive but ensnared in an unauthorized but well-deserved retaliation against Morrighan. The whole kingdom was still enraged over the breaking of the contract, and they wanted retribution. When they searched Sven’s office, they’d found messages sent to Sven from the prince about a meeting in Luiseveque but could turn up nothing else besides Sven’s orders to Tavish, Orrin, and Jeb to meet there too. They feared they’d all been found out and thrown into one of Morrighan’s prisons, but careful inquiries turned up nothing. It was as if they had all vanished into thin air, but hope was never lost. Their skills were known.
When the captain finished, it was Rafe’s turn to explain. “I’ll fill you in as we ride,” Rafe told him, saying we were tired, hungry, and some of us in need of medical care.
“And those two?” the captain asked, nodding toward Griz and Kaden in the distance.
The corner of Rafe’s mouth pulled. I tensed, waiting to see what he would call them. Barbarians? Prisoners? He seemed unsure himself. I prayed he wouldn’t say Rahtan or Assassin.
“Vendans,” he answered. “Whom we can moderately trust for now. We’ll keep a close watch on them.”
Moderately trust? They had just helped save our lives. For the second time. But I knew they’d done it not for Rafe’s benefit or Dalbreck’s—only mine—so I reluctantly understood his caution too.
The captain’s expression turned hard, and a deep line creased between his brows. “A platoon of ours has been missing now for weeks. We’ve been hunting down men like—”
“The platoon is dead,” Rafe said flatly. “All of them. I saw their bloody weapons and valuables brought to the Komizar. Those two weren’t involved. As I said, I’ll explain as we ride.”
The captain paled. An entire platoon dead? But he made no further comment, complying with Rafe’s wish to explain as they rode. He shot a last sideways glance at me but was too polite to ask who I was. He’d surely seen me riding in front of Rafe on his horse and probably assumed something unsavory. I didn’t want to embarrass Rafe or the captain with the truth at this point. We’d all heard what he said about the rage they still nursed toward Morrighan, but as the captain returned to his horse, his soldiers eyed me with curiosity too. With the remnants of my clan dress, and my skin still spattered with blood, I surely looked like a wild barbarian in their eyes. What on earth was their king doing riding with me?