Page 12 of Pippa of Lauramore (The Eldentimber #1)

T he hawk screams in the sky, and Archer rides up next to me. He puts a finger to his lips. “She sees someone,” he whispers.

I nod and pull Willowisp back.

Archer continues on the trail ahead of us, and I wait for him to return. He does, several minutes later, shaking his head. “Lord Orick.”

He turns down a deer trail and waves for me to follow him as we skirt around the lord. We’ve done this routine several times now, and I can’t help but think we’re getting close to Galinor.

The deeper into the dark timber we get, the more likely we are to run into a grim boar—and the more likely we are to run into the men hunting them.

Biting gnats are thick here, and I wish I’d thought to visit Yuven for a repellent. I slap my arm and groan, resisting the urge to scratch the bites. I glance at Archer.

“Why aren’t they attacking you?” I ask, my voice a little testy. I have more exposed skin along my arms, neck, and chest, but he has his tunic sleeves rolled up due to the heat.

He glances back. “A laundry girl made a batch of soap with repelling oils in it, and she gave it to me. It seems to work.”

That explains his earthy, pine scent earlier.

“That was kind of her. I’m sure the woodsman and knights appreciate it as well.”

A ghost of a smirk tips his lips. “It was just for me.”

I open my mouth to respond but close it again. “Oh,” I finally answer lamely. “How lovely of her.”

The hawk cries again, and this time I’m sure it’s Galinor.

“Let me come with you,” I whisper.

“No. Wait here.”

I follow him anyway. Through the trees, I see a horse and rider. The horse is dark in the shadows, and I’m sure it’s Galinor’s bay. Excited to have finally found him, I hurry past Archer.

“Pippa, no!”

The rider turns toward us, having heard the noise. His horse takes a few steps, going from shadow to sunlight, and I gasp.

It’s Rigel.

I pull Willowisp behind a cluster of trees, but I’m not sure if he saw me.

“Who’s there?” Rigel calls.

I shiver and clamp by jaw shut, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

“Show yourself,” he says, louder this time .

Archer glares at me, and he’s just turning his horse when there’s a loud crashing in the brush to the south of us.

I stifle a scream. I can smell the grim boar from here, and it reeks.

I peek through the trees, hoping to spot it.

I’ve only seen a live one once or twice, and I forgot how large they are.

Its head comes to Rigel’s waist.

The boar charges with a guttural cry. Almost as soon as the attack starts, it goes silent. It shouldn’t surprise me a dragon slayer would make quick work of a charging grim boar. A morbid part of me wants to see the creature and make sure it’s really dead.

“Now is the time to leave,” Archer says from beside me.

I follow him back the way we came, and he doesn’t speak as we ride.

Is he upset? I should have listened to him.

“Do you think Galinor’s found anything?” I ask when I can’t take the silence any longer.

Archer looks over, but he doesn’t look angry. “He had all day yesterday. Let’s hope he’s found something .”

“I showed him the maid-of-the-shadows when I took him to the cave. He will have found those,” I answer, confident I’m right.

“Let’s hope so.”

We continue in silence. The morning is almost over, and we still haven’t found Galinor.

I startle when I finally hear the hawk’s shrill cry. Archer glances at me, but he doesn’t have to tell me.

“I’ll wait here,” I offer.

He smiles, looking like he’s going to laugh, but continues on the path without a word. I’ve counted fifteen butterflies and two terrace sparrows when I finally spot him again.

And he’s not alone.

“You haven’t found anything? ” I stare at Galinor, stunned.

This is the second day of the scavenger hunt. What’s he been doing?

“Didn’t you get my message?” I told him where to find everything except the fifth item.

Galinor nods, and his handsome forehead creases in frustration.

“It’s all right.” I take his hand to comfort him. “We’ll help.”

The prince looks like he wants to turn down my offer, but once he thinks about it, he nods.

Archer lounges against a rock and frowns at the ground. I turn toward him. “What should we start with? Maid-of-the-shadows?”

Honestly, I’m a little baffled Galinor doesn’t have one yet. All he had to do was find a cave. Around here, that’s not terribly difficult.

I stamp down my irritation. It’s not his fault. He’s not familiar with the area.

Archer glances up the canyon wall not far from us. “There’s a cave there.”

I don’t see it, but I don’t doubt he’s right .

“With any luck, we’ll run into a grim boar on our way,” Archer says.

A strange look crosses Galinor’s face, and I don’t think he believes we’ll be lucky to find a boar.

We mount our horses and choose a trail that looks like it might lead us to the canyon wall. The sun is high in the sky, and it won’t be much longer before Archer and I will have to turn back.

“We passed a patch of waspnettle on the way here. Did you notice it, Archer?”

“I did.”

“Do you think you can find it on our way back?” I hope we may find an inger nest in it.

He doesn’t answer. We’ve come to a river running through the bottom of the canyon. The bridge looks questionable, and just as Archer’s mare is crossing, the rotted side support gives way. His horse lunges for the opposite bank.

“Archer!” I cry as the bridge crashes into the river, sweeping the planks and rope away with the rushing waters.

“I’m fine,” he calls back. Somehow, he made it safely to the other side before the bridge went into the river.

I scan the river’s route through the canyon and point to a spot farther down. “There. It’s wider, but it looks like it might be shallow. We’ll cross and meet you.”

“I’ll see if there’s a maid-of-the-shadow in the cave and meet you there.” Archer motions to the trail that climbs the canyon wall.

Galinor and I turn our horses, and we continue down while Archer goes up the cliff. Now that we are alone, neither of us knows what to say. I steal a glance, and he smiles back at me, his face warm and open.

I was right to choose him.

Once Archer is out of sight, Galinor comes to a stop, and he takes my hand. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

It feels nice to have my hand in his. If he’s successful with the tournament, which I know he will be, then this is the hand I will hold for the rest of my life.

The thought gives me a funny feeling—a happy feeling, I’m sure.

It’s not something I can really put a finger on, so I push it away.

With Galinor smiling at me and his beautiful eyes looking at me like I’m exquisite, it’s hard to dwell on much else.

“You still trust Archer?” Galinor asks, his expression a little disapproving. “Didn’t he tell your father where to find us?”

I shake my head. “He said he didn’t, and he’s the only one I could trust to come with me.”

The prince doesn’t like it, but I’m not sure what to do about that. If it weren’t for Archer, I would have never found him.

“He’ll help us,” I say. “I can’t express how deeply I want you to win.”

Galinor squeezes my hand and nods. “All right. If you trust him, I will trust him as well.”

The trail is long but fairly easy. Soon, we meet Archer. He has already crossed the river and is waiting for us.

Careful to avoid the powdery white flowers, Archer hands the cluster of maid-of-the-shadows to Galinor, who tucks them into his saddlebag.

I beam at Archer. I knew he’d find them .

“Now we need to collect the waspnettle,” Archer says.

I glance at the sky. We must hurry.

I’m sure we should have passed the patch of waspnettle by now. Everything looks different. “Archer, are you certain this is the way?”

He’s riding far ahead of us, and I’m not sure why. He’s acting like a guide—distant and a little unapproachable. I had hoped he and Galinor would get on well. So far, they’re courteous to each other but far from friendly.

“I’ve run across fresh grim boar sign. We’re tracking it,” he calls back.

This is news to me.

Feeling vulnerable, I absently feel for the bow on my back. I’m not sure you can kill a grim boar with an arrow, but it can’t hurt to have it with me.

It gets cooler as we venture farther into the deep woods.

The sunlight can’t penetrate the ancient evergreen trees, and the air is dark and musty smelling.

I don’t think I’ve ever been in this deep.

Strange brown and yellow mushrooms cling to the ragged old bark of fallen tree trunks, and there are strange creatures calling back and forth from the branches with weird high-pitched clicks.

They sound like they’re no bigger than rodents or birds, but the shrill noise has me on edge.

We pass a muddy, shallow pond. By the looks of it, several boars have wallowed here. The insects are thick, and once again, I wish I had Yuven’s repellent .

“Your forests are much different from ours in Glendon.” Galinor eyes the wallow.

I glance at my prince, finding comfort in his presence. He rides next to me, close enough our legs occasionally brush. He has one hand on the reins and the other on the hilt of his sword. He must be uneasy as well.

“Tell me about your kingdom,” I say, wishing for a distraction.

His face softens, and his dimples show as he smiles.

“Our forests are primarily deciduous trees with a few groves of fir and spruce scattered here and there. There are large meadows, a few freshwater lakes, and wildflowers are plentiful in the spring and summer. Our winters are short—only three months compared to your five. We grow many vegetables and fruits.”

“I’ve heard cattle thrive in your meadows.”

Galinor nods. “Glendon is well suited to their grazing needs. There’s also an abundance of game in the woods.”

“What is the castle like?” I ask, wondering what my future holds.

“It’s not as fine as your palace,” he says. “We have no golden accents or large windows, but it is beautiful in its own right. It’s stone with the usual buttresses and towers.”

“It sounds lovely,” I say, and I mean it. I’m sure I will be very happy there.

He’s quiet, and it looks like he’s lost in thought. “If I win?—”

“When you win,” I interrupt.

He grins and shakes his head. “ If I win, you will stay a princess. Will you miss the chance of being a queen? I am second born.”

“I don’t care about any of that. There’s a lot of pressure placed on queens-to-be. So much is expected of Leonora.”

I meet his eyes, and it looks like he’s struggling for words. Finally, he says, “We’re simple people, as you’ve probably heard.”

It’s unusual for great warriors, artists, or scholars to come from Glendon. They are a farming kingdom and mostly self-sufficient. They are known for their kindness and not for their grandeur. Glendon hosts no great tournaments, festivals, or feasts. Or at least they haven’t in years.

I toss my hair over my shoulder. “You’re afraid I will be bored there.”

He sighs and then nods. “You are bright, beautiful…vibrant. I feel like I will be trapping an exotic bird in a plain cage. As much as I want to keep her, is it really fair to the bird?”

“You are kind. I would rather be a bird in a plain cage with a kind keeper than a bird in a large and beautiful garden with a cold master.”

He’s about to answer but is interrupted by a guttural grunt in front of us. We both whip forward. The grim boar’s near a mud hole. Instead of fighting, it runs when it sees us.

I kick my horse, and we race after the pig, Archer in the lead and Galinor at the back. I dart past trees and jump over rocks; we crash through streams and thick brush .

It’s exhilarating, this mad dash. I had no idea. No wonder my brothers look forward to hunts like they do.

Finally, the grim boar stops and makes to charge us.

Archer’s on the ground a second before Galinor, but my prince is right behind him. My hand shakes while I fumble for my arrows. I take aim, but I’m not sure I can make the shot without hitting one of the men.

Archer has a hunting spear, and he’s faring better than Galinor with his sword. Every time Galinor attacks, the boar makes to gore him with his tusks, and the prince must pull back.

Willowisp dances under me, spooked by the squealing beast. It’s as big as the one that attacked Rigel, if not a little larger. The mare lets out a frightened neigh, startling the boar. It darts around Galinor and charges at me.

“Around the tree! Bring him back this way!” Archer yells.

I kick Willowisp and yank her around the large pine. The great tree shudders as the boar smacks it with his tusks, only narrowly missing us. We race forward. Archer has already drawn his bow and takes aim. The boar chases us, grunting and squealing like a demon creature.

The arrow flies, and the sounds of the chase cease. Archer runs past us, spear at the ready. I turn just as he plunges the spear into the pig’s chest. Galinor is behind him, and he too sticks the boar with his sword, though it’s clear to see Archer already killed it.

Galinor stares at the dead beast, looking a little shocked, but Archer ignores the boar and runs right for me.

He holds out his arms, and I fall off my horse and into him.

I struggle to catch my breath as he holds me tightly, running his hand down my hair, assuring himself I’m still in one piece. “Are you all right?”

I nod and put a hand on my chest. My heart races, and despite my deep breaths, it won’t slow down. Once I finally catch my breath, I laugh.

“I thought I was going to die!” I say, and I can’t hide my glee.

Archer takes a deep breath and allows himself a small chuckle. “I think I just about died when it charged you. Do you know what your father would do to me?”

We’re laughing together, and then I feel Galinor’s eyes on us. Slowly, feeling oddly guilty, I step from Archer’s arms.

“You’ve killed your first grim boar,” I say, trying to be as easy with the prince as I just was with Archer.

He shakes his head. “Archer killed it.”

I glance at the boar, and I know he’s right. Archer’s arrow went straight through the creature’s eye and into its brain. It was most likely dying before he stabbed it with the spear. It was certainly dead by the time Galinor reached it.

“It was your kill,” Archer says. “I helped, but you dealt the last blow.”

We all stare at the boar, and an uncomfortable, awkward silence falls over our party. My exuberance fizzles away.

“How do I get it back?” Galinor asks.

“We’ll have to drag it to your camp. Where’s your fabric pull?”

Galinor grits his teeth and closes his eyes. “I don’t have one on me. ”

Archer nods, saying nothing, and retrieves one from his own pack.

“With any luck, we’ll find a waspnettle patch on the way back,” I tell Galinor brightly.

He’s angry with himself, and he won’t meet my eyes. He stalks around the other side of the boar and helps Archer slip the fabric under the beast.

I sigh as I watch them. This isn’t how I imagined the day would go.