Page 18 of Her Cruel Redemption (The Dark Reflection #3)
Chapter Eighteen
T here was no discernable moment that we crossed the border. No fanfare, no sense of relief. We’d been trekking through a boggy marsh, trying to stay off the roads. It had still been raining, falling in sheets of icy sleet that chilled me all the way through. Still weak and shaking, my teeth had been chattering so hard I thought they’d crack. I’d stayed on my horse through sheer willpower alone. I felt as though we rode for endless hours, more hours than I wanted to tally as my muscles seized up from gripping on so tight and I fought to keep from slipping back into unconsciousness. But despite the way the magic had made me so sick, I spent most of the ride nursing a steady urge to use more. To heat my hands with sparks of lightning. To feel it burn through my veins in that thrilling rush. I wasn’t stupid enough to give in to the urge, of course. But it was there all the same.
We only knew we’d crossed into Oceatold when the foothills of the Yawn receded into the distance, before finally dropping off the horizon. If the others held some kind of moment of honoring their homesickness or stared longingly behind them as those somber peaks slipped away, I didn’t notice. I was busy trying to stay alive.
We didn’t enter the first small town we came across. Perhaps we were all still doubtful that we’d made the border at all. But by the second one I finally had to admit that I wasn’t going to be able to keep going.
‘This one looks as likely to belong to Oceatold as any other,’ I said as we stood atop a ridge and looked down on the motley collection of roads and buildings. Gwinellyn chewed her lip as she considered it. Perhaps she was anxious about what her reception in Oceatold might be. She had assumed that she’d be welcomed, but soon she was going to have to learn if she’d been right.
A little late to be worrying about that now.
‘I can go first,’ I suggested as my legs trembled from the exertion of standing. Better to be captured than collapse up here on this hill while everyone debated whether or not to go down. I had to get stronger. Draven hadn’t been taken out like this every time I’d seen him use magic. There had to be a way to get stronger. ‘If I don’t come back, you’ll know to try the next town.’
‘This isn’t a joke,’ Gwin muttered as she squinted at a sky already bruising with the promise of dusk. ‘We’re all going down together.’
That was fine by me. I just wanted to be warm and dry and fed.
We drew attention as we entered the town. The gazes of those in the streets followed us as our exhausted horses plodded along, and by the time we found an inn, there were people learning out of windows to get a look at us. Mae went inside the inn to ask for beds and there was enough room for all of us, so perhaps they didn’t get many travellers and that’s why we were drawing attention. The innkeeper eyed us suspiciously enough while we filed inside, and his wife kept trying to study our faces as she showed us the rooms. I didn’t think on it much, though. I barely had enough energy to wolf down a hunk of bread and some sort of root vegetable stew before I shrugged off my wet clothes and crept beneath the covers in the room I was sharing with Mae. I almost groaned as I sank into the mattress. A real bed. And the air was warm . I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of Mae shuffling around for only a few breaths before sleep began to drag me under. But for a moment before I dropped down into the darkness, I thought of him . The way I always did.
Stay. Please.
Goras was slurping his breakfast. It was disgusting. I watched him as his enormous hands cradled the bowl and tipped it to his face, using his spoon to shovel more of the gruel towards his hungry mouth. He smacked his lips as he lowered the bowl, and when he caught my eye I raised my eyebrows.
‘You should worry about your own food,’ he grumbled, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. ‘Or we’ll not be going any further. You’re still pale as snow.’
‘That’s because she’s watching you eat,’ Tanathil chimed in, waving a spoon at him. ‘You spend too much time with your wyvern. Just because Ignis doesn’t have thumbs doesn’t mean you have to pretend you don’t either.’
He only grunted and continued eating. I cast my gaze down the length of the table, where the rest of our group were focused on their breakfasts, catching the drawn faces and low mood. Gwinellyn in particular. She was staring blankly into her bowl like she was thinking about drowning in it. Mourning Kel. No doubt blaming herself for his death. I nudged her knee with my foot beneath the table and she looked up.
‘You did it,’ I said. ‘You reached Oceatold.’
She nodded. ‘We made it.’
‘They’d better watch out. Who knows what you’ll do next.’
She smiled faintly, a little light sparking in her eyes. I rose from my seat and approached the bar to wait for the landlady to return, thinking of ordering something to perk us all up a little. A hand landed on my shoulder. Immediately, my hands went to it, gripping as I pivoted. My knee jabbed up, meeting flesh as I came face-to-face with a man I didn’t know, doubled over and grimacing in pain, grasping hand now cradling his crutch. His two companions had drawn swords and were regarding me with wariness. Blue and grey uniforms. Close-cropped hair. Oceatold insignias at their breasts. Soldiers.
‘Don’t touch me,’ I spat, anger heating my skin and thudding away in my head.
But then Gwinellyn was by my side, her hands held up in supplication. ‘What’s the meaning of this?’
One of the soldiers who wasn’t shielding his assaulted crutch took her in with eyes bright and sharp. ‘Princess Gwinellyn [TK – whats her name again?],’ he asked cautiously.
Gwin hesitated a moment, and we shared a look. I could see what she wanted to know; should she deny her identity? I twisted my mouth. No point. If she wanted an audience with the king, she wouldn’t get that by hiding.
‘I am,’ she said, subtly lifting her chin and rolling her shoulders back. I felt a burst of pride in her. It must have taken her a lot to keep from shrinking the way she had been taught to do.
‘I’m Captain Rook. We’ve been instructed to escort you to Sarmiers,’ the soldier continued.
‘As a prisoner?’
‘As the guest of King Esario.’ He reassured her with a quick smile. ‘His Majesty has been expecting you. We’ve a carriage to bring you the rest of the way.’
She glanced towards the window, where there was indeed a carriage waiting, along with another handful of soldiers. ‘And as a guest, I can refuse?’ she asked mildly.
The soldier’s smile hollowed out, the warmth leaving his eyes. ‘His Majesty wanted me to remind you that you are the heir to a kingdom we are at war with.’ I could hear the subtext; she could be treated as a guest, or she could be treated as an enemy. The choice lay in her decision to go willingly or not.
Gwinellyn’s face didn’t change but she nodded. ‘And my companions?’
His eyes quickly scanned the group of glamoured Yoxvese now gathered behind her, moving over the huge figure of Goras and his swirling blue tattoos, the tiny, frizzy-haired Daethie, Tanathil surveying them curiously, Maelyn with her hand on a dagger at her belt, Elias moving in close to Gwinellyn’s side. Dirty and travel-worn, even after a bath and a sleep. Not exactly a royal parade. Then his gaze snagged on me, fixing on the scars on my face as his eyes flared with what looked like… realisation.
‘Captain?’ Gwinellyn prompted.
He forced his gaze back to her. ‘They’re also welcome in Sarmiers, Your Highness. All of your followers are welcome. There are many members of your court in the city already waiting for you.’
More followers. Goody.
‘Then I owe King Esario my gratitude,’ Gwinellyn replied, playing the part of the noble princess perfectly. Which was easy enough in some tiny village on the outskirts of nowhere with only soldiers and friends to perform for. How would she do when we reached Sarmiers?
There was only one way to find out.