Page 23

Chapter

Thirteen

ARLON

“Godsdamnit,” I roar as the mud sucks at my leg and my boot slips from my foot.

Holding on to Pip’s reins, I bend down, balancing on one foot, and yank the boot from the muck.

Pip lets out a frustrated nicker as his hooves slide around on the wet surface.

The other horse isn’t doing much better, but he seems content to follow Pip for now, the lead between them never pulling taut.

“That lying son of a…”

I shake the worst of the mud from my boot and pull it on, then wobble down the path, backtracking to the last intersection.

The setting sun has touched the low hills in the west, and I’m no closer to finding Tessa because some asshole farmer I met on the road told me the curly-haired miss riding a nice horse turned left—yes, yes—toward that suspicious-looking bog.

Now I’ve lost an hour of daylight, and my crafty mate has an even bigger head start.

I’m almost certain she bribed that man to lay a false trail.

Why else would he insist on telling the lie?

No one has passed through here in ages, if I’m reading the trails correctly, apart from foxes, rabbits, and a herd of deer.

I should have known she wouldn’t have picked a path that would slow her down.

She likely paid him with the money she stole from me.

The thought rankles, and I grit my teeth so hard my jaw pops, then force myself to relax.

Letting Pip and Cricket graze in the grass beside the road, I take a moment to clean my boots and the smear of mud on my pants from when I slipped and sat in a puddle of fetid mush.

Once it was clear I’d wandered into a bog, I’d hopped down from my horse.

We would’ve sunk even faster if I’d stayed mounted, and I didn’t fancy pulling my animal out.

But that means I’m dirtier than he is at the moment, and I don’t want to transfer all this filth onto the saddle.

When I’m as clean as I can manage, I pluck two apples from the saddlebag and offer them to the horses as a reward for not running away from me. “I’ll clean you both later,” I murmur, patting Pip’s neck first, then Cricket’s. “We’ll catch her, you’ll see, and then we can rest.”

My horse levels a disbelieving look at me, and I can’t blame him.

Still, I swing myself into the saddle and clop down the road to the village where that farmer sent me on a wild goose chase.

He’s nowhere to be seen, of course. It’s raining again, a fine drizzle that’s steadily soaking through my clothes.

I ask around and find the man in the tavern.

It’s dinnertime, and I want nothing more than to settle in for a warm meal, but I don’t have the time.

The farmer is sitting behind a table in the corner, drinking away the bribe money, no doubt. He’s had a few, judging by how his head is nodding. He lifts his pewter mug with a wobbly hand and takes another slug of ale as I watch.

I nod at the barmaid. “Another drink for the gentleman in the corner, please, and a cup of piping hot tea for me, with a splash of brandy.” It’s the best remedy to chase away the chill, and I’ll need it before the evening is out.

“Yes, sir.”

The maid bobs a curtsy and disappears into the kitchen, and I wind slowly around the tables, avoiding dripping on the patrons.

They’re mostly men, and they eye me warily, a stranger among them.

In a village as small as this, most of them must know each other, even though we’re on one of the main roads, only a day’s ride from Ultrup.

The man I’ve been searching for doesn’t lift his head when I drag back the chair opposite him.

I sit, throwing back my damp cloak, and clear my throat.

Finally, he peers at me from under his bushy eyebrows and squints as if he’s having trouble focusing.

His blue eyes are watery and bloodshot, and I wonder what would drive a man to drink like this.

But it’s not my place to judge, and as much as I dislike it, I might use his condition to my benefit.

“Hello,” I greet him, shoving down the resentment that boils up as I recall how he sent me on the wrong path. “Remember me?”

He squints again, as if unsure, then slurs, “You’re the one looking for that young miss.”

“Correct.”

I accept my cup of spiked tea from the maid and nudge the mug of ale toward my drunk companion. I pay for our drinks and the small tin box of tea she hands me, adding a good tip. She beams at me and hustles back to the bar, where another patron is calling for her attention.

When I turn back to the farmer, he’s chugging the ale from his mug, some of it sloshing down his chin. If I don’t hurry, he’ll be too drunk to speak, let alone remember which way Tessa really went after leaving this village.

“Listen, the young lady I’m searching for is in trouble,” I tell him. “I only want to help her.”

He scrunches up his face and brandishes a finger at me. “That’s what all men say. I’m not telling you anything, no, sir. I made the lady a promise, and Bennie keeps his word, yes, he does.”

I scrub my hand over my face, frustration boiling up inside me. If I weren’t in such a hurry to find Tessa—and if she weren’t in actual danger from the Ravens, who will be coming after her—I’d be impressed. This man really is protecting her in his own way.

“Listen. Bennie, is it?” I take a couple of silver coins from my pocket and slide them across the table. “She paid you to lead me onto a false trail, correct?”

He purses his lips and eyes the money. “She did. What of it?”

“She thought others would follow her,” I explain patiently. “A gang of criminals searching for revenge. She got on their bad side, and I just want to make sure I find her first so I can protect her.”

I leave the coins on the table between us and clench my hands in my lap, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

I wouldn’t hurt a hair on Tessa’s head, but this man doesn’t know that.

We’re nowhere near the Stonefrost Clan lands yet, but if he’s heard stories from the people who suffered during old King Trak’s war campaigns, he might think I’m part of that clan.

If I have to, I’ll explain that I belong to a different clan, one that’s lived a more or less peaceful life up north, but I don’t have the time.

I also doubt my newfound friend has the focus to follow a lesson on clan politics.

“What’s she to you?” the man blurts, squinting at me again. “Why are you trying to find her?”

I clench my teeth, unsure how much to share. Humans often misunderstand the term “mate,” and that’s another explanation I don’t have time for. But I also don’t want to lie to him. He’s drunk, but he might mistrust me even more if he catches me at it.

“She’s my mate,” I admit, sitting back in my chair. “You know what that means?”

To my surprise, the man nods, his movements exaggerated. “I do. Why’s she running from you, then?”

Good question, my man.

I swallow down the bitterness and answer as truthfully as I can. “Because I said some things I shouldn’t have, and she wasn’t too impressed with me. Decked me in the mouth. I just want to find her and put things right. Apologize. Make sure she’s safe. I won’t let any harm come to her.”

He stares at me for a long moment, swaying in his seat. Then he puts his hand over the coins on the table. “She took the forest road leading north. She was asking if a caravan passed through here about a week ago. I told her it did—heading east, toward your kingdom.”

I shake my head. “Not my kingdom. Not anymore. But why would she head north if she’s tracking someone heading east?”

She’s after the Ravens’ caravan. That must be it. She broke into the Ravens’ mansion to find information, and now she’s trailing whoever set out from Ultrup. But why?

“She asked if there was another road. To cut down on the travel time.”

The man sits up straighter now, though his words still slur. I wonder if he was ever a soldier—he’s reporting like one now.

“All right. So you sent her onto the northern trail? Where does it lead?”

“Didn’t,” he argues. “No, Bennie would never. Too dangerous, ‘specially for a lass traveling alone.”

My blood ices over in my veins. “What do you mean?”

“It’s wild country,” he mumbles. “I told her so, I did. But she heard it from someone else and wouldn’t listen to reason. Said she can handle herself, and she had to catch up to the caravan.”

Gods. She must be desperate if she’s willing to ignore the danger.

“And she paid you to lead her pursuers on a false trail, aye?” I shake my head. “Thank you for telling me. Where does this forest road start?”

Bennie gives me the directions and warns me not to go in there at night. Apart from wolves, he lists bears, ogres, and sprites as possible dangers. I’m not entirely sure I believe him, but I’d be reckless to ignore the warning entirely. I thank him for the information and leave him to his drink.

At the bar, I stop the maid as she’s heading for the kitchen and hand her a coin. “A dinner for that gentleman, please. Something hearty to soak up all that ale. And some tea, aye?”

She nods, eyes worried. “I’ll cut him off before he gets any worse.”

“Thank you.” I think of Tessa’s idea of laying a false trail and add another coin to the counter as I’m leaving. “And if any humans come along asking after a curly-haired woman, or me, send them into that bog on the side of the village.”