Page 15

Chapter Five

They moved on foot through the woods, traversing a wide, dirt path. The back trail through the Western Wood was quiet, travelers preferring to take horses through the high roads. Only one other caravan had passed them, headed in the opposite direction.

The witches seemed to be the only ones in their convoy making a sound: sticks snapping under their boots and their ragged breaths echoing through the air.

“How much further?” Fenrin panted, breaking their long silence. Remy bet he was regretting carrying both his pack and the brown witch wares now. The sun was high, the promise of cooler weather ceding to the strong sun.

Hale had been walking far ahead, lost in his thoughts, but his fae ears had picked up on Fenrin’s question. Carys hiked not far behind the prince. The struggling witches walked in the middle, with the Twin Eagles taking up the rear.

Hale looked at the witches, and the group shuffled to a stop. Remy’s feet ached. Her muscles weren’t yet tiring, but her feet were on fire. She was eager to stop, but she wasn’t sure if she would ever start again.

“Only a few more hours,” Hale said. He spoke like it was nothing at all.

“Hours?” Fenrin whined. Heather said nothing, but she leaned forward and rested her hands on her knees, gulping air. Her cornflower blue dress was wet with sweat.

“Your legs are taller than me, witch. You should be fine,” Briata called from behind them. Her brother snickered.

“We could stop here,” Carys offered, “but then we won’t reach the next town by tomorrow.”

“Aw come on!” Talhan was the one to whine now. “I want to sleep in a bed tomorrow.”

Remy found the nearest rock and collapsed with a groan. She couldn’t wait another few hours. She needed to get her bloody boots off right away. Gods curse this fae prince. She should make him carry her.

“Let’s break for some water,” Carys said, eyeing Remy. “Ten minutes. Then we can decide how to proceed.”

Remy noted how Carys had taken the lead. It seemed the rest of the fae warriors did not care that the witches were struggling. Fae had body magic, and so it was easy for them. That was the selfishness of the fae; they could never put themselves in someone else’s shoes. And right now, Remy’s boots were filling with blood.

Each of the fae dropped their packs and sat on them, except for Carys, who leaned against a tree trunk. She and Hale rested far ahead while everyone else sat in a circle. They maneuvered their packs in a practiced way that told Remy this was their normal life. How strange these nomadic fae warriors were.

“You must do this a lot,” Fenrin said, voicing Remy’s thoughts. Briata shrugged at him. “Where’s the rest of your comrades?”

“Falhampton,” Briata said, as if everyone would know where that was.

“It’s on the border with the Northern Court,” Talhan explained. His tan cheeks were flushed red, but that was the only sign of exertion. “The Northern fae like to cross the Eastern border and cause trouble there. They’ve been doing it for years. The King sent Hale last year to finally rid the town of them.”

“And I’m guessing he succeeded?” Fenrin asked.

“It’s not as easy as running out a few Northerners,” Briata said.

“Bri’s right,” Talhan added. “You’ve got to build walls, train the locals, ensure that when the Northerners come back—”

“Which they always do,” Briata cut in.

“—we will have trained the townspeople how to keep them out,” Talhan finished. “Hale’s soldiers are still there defending the town until the King gives the order to pull them back.”

Fenrin took a long swig of his water and then passed the skin to Remy. She accepted it gratefully, the cool liquid soothing her scratchy throat. Passing it to Heather, she turned her attention to her feet.

Remy removed her boots with a hiss.

“You should leave those on.” Briata nodded to Remy.

“Your feet will swell and you won’t be able to get them back in,” Talhan added, passing his sister a stick of dried meat.

“I’d rather walk barefoot than wear these one more second.” Remy stifled a cry as she peeled her thick wool socks off her feet. The damage was visible now. Two egg-sized blisters covered the backs of her heels. The boots had rubbed the first layers of skin right off, opening red, weeping wounds. Her big toenail, too, was already turning blue. Remy was sure it would fall off within a day.

Heather gasped. “Gods, I thought those boots fit you?”

Remy shrugged. She thought her feet had stopped growing, but she was wrong. The boots had always been tight and uncomfortable but it had been fine working all day on her feet at the Rusty Hatchet, so she assumed it would be fine hiking too.