Page 24

Chapter

Fourteen

TESSA

“There are no wolves around here,” I tell myself as I tie Clover’s reins to a branch of the fir tree I picked as my shelter tonight. “You shouldn’t believe that old man’s tales.”

The mare huffs softly at me, which I take as a good sign.

I didn’t hear any howling, but the fact that she’s calm and content to rest tells me we’re safe, at least for now.

Last night was the first we spent in this forest, heading northeast now that we’ve climbed to the plateau rising above the village.

I got lucky with the weather and managed a couple hours of sleep tucked under a hazel bush, wrapped in my blanket, while Clover grazed and dozed beside me.

We spent the second day of our journey on a winding forest road that curved this way and that to avoid the swells and dips in the terrain.

If I weren’t in a hurry—and afraid of being eaten by wild beasts—I might actually enjoy this part of the trip.

I alternated between riding and walking to give Clover a rest and used the time to gather some chestnuts to roast over a fire, if I dared make one.

I even found several mushrooms in a mossy patch.

The fact that all this food was growing right next to the road told me no one had passed through here in a while.

Apparently, even the locals avoid these remote places.

As the sun dipped and twilight settled under the thick canopy of trees, I looked for a good place to rest. The first spot, right by a stream, turned out to be a mistake.

Clover wouldn’t settle, and it didn’t take me long to figure out why.

The muddy, soft ground beside the stream bore fresh prints from several animals.

Even though I’m a city dweller through and through, I recognized tracks that likely belonged to a wolf.

I tried to rationalize what I saw. Maybe a hunter passed by with a retriever dog?

But there were no human footprints, only paws and hooves.

So I packed up again, refilled our water bags, and led Clover away, not stopping until we reached a more secluded part of the forest, far from any stream where animals might gather at night.

Now that she’s calm, I let myself relax, too.

I give her a measure of oats for dinner and brush her down, the familiar movements soothing for both of us.

She drank at the stream earlier, so she’s set for the night.

I cover her with a thick wool blanket to ward off the worst of the chill, hoping it won’t rain again.

My makeshift shelter, a second blanket thrown over a low-hanging branch and secured with rocks, won’t hold off more than a light drizzle.

When the mare quiets, I crawl into my little tent and take a piece of bread from my pack.

It’s one of Etta’s rolls, still reasonably fresh and only lightly squished from being stuffed in my saddlebag.

I bite into it, relishing the slight sweetness.

It brings back the memory of Etta’s shop and my cozy apartment above it.

My current situation is much less comfortable than my little room, but I’m safer here, wolves be damned.

The forest is alive around me, small animals scurrying in the leaves, owls hooting in the treetops.

I need rest after a full day’s travel, as does Clover, but my mind won’t go quiet.

I lie on my back, staring at the blanket tent above me.

I found the caravan’s trail, which means I could be just days away from finding Lindie.

The caravan would be traveling much slower than me, even though I didn’t push my mare too hard today.

My body is showing signs of fatigue, which worries me.

I’ve ridden out to the other, smaller towns in the duchy often, but I’ve never had to travel this far for several days in a row.

I’m already sore from yesterday. If I don’t sleep and let myself recover, I won’t be able to cover as much ground, which is why any shortcut I can take is a blessing.

The farmer I paid to lay a false trail told me this road will eventually turn fully east again, and I’ll be able to rejoin the main road, having cut more than twenty miles from my journey by taking it.

The main road swings too far south here to avoid a reeking bog that sprawls through the lowlands, so traveling over this rocky plateau is faster for riders like me.

The terrain is rough, the climb steady, but manageable for a single horse.

Caravans with wagons never take this route—it’s too steep.

Hauling a heavy load up this forest road would be madness.

I wonder if the Ravens have pieced together the clues yet.

That there was no break-in on the lower floors.

That someone entered their mansion through the roof.

That the thief who robbed them was skilled enough not just to get into Damen’s office but into his safe as well.

Sooner or later, they’ll figure out it was me, find my place at Etta’s, and realize I’ve left Ultrup.

A wave of guilt washes over me at the thought of my friend dealing with the Ravens’ questioning. I didn’t tell her anything that could put her in further danger, but that might not be enough to protect her.

I scrub my face with both hands and stifle a groan.

I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since Lindie disappeared, and I’m not counting on one tonight, either.

I’ll likely lie awake, listening to hedgehogs rooting around for snails and grubs.

I would’ve ridden farther tonight, but Clover can’t see in the dark any better than I can.

Hopefully, that’ll protect us if anyone did manage to follow us.

Even if they figured out I took this trail instead of the main road, they’ll never see where we turned off into the woods.

“We’re safe here.”

I murmur the words to myself, wondering if my breath is making little puffs of steam in the air.

It’s too dark to see anything, and I don’t want to light a fire—that would only signal my position to anyone nearby.

Since there’s no moon, I can only assume any pursuer would be equally lost in the forest. Or they’d have to carry a torch, which I’d be able to see from far away.

Should I be on watch right now? But how can I stand watch and rest at the same time?

I press the heels of my palms into my eyes.

My mind is restless, throwing question after question at me.

My hand itches from the healing blisters, which is another annoyance preventing me from sleeping.

I’ll never be able to rest if I don’t calm down, so I root through my satchel and pull out the healing salve I got from the orc.

Unscrewing the top, I dip my fingertips into the pot and smear the goop over my skin, sighing in relief as the itching all but disappears, replaced by a gentle cooling sensation.

There really must be magic in there, some sort of?—

“Good evening.”

I shriek and surge to my feet on instinct.

The top of my head slams into the branch above me, and I yelp in pain before ducking down and rolling away from the voice to escape.

The pot slips from my hand as I reach for the knife in my boot, but I’m tangled in my bedroll.

I scramble forward on my hands and knees, desperately trying to figure out where I’m going.

I think it’s toward the tree trunk, but I need to go left, because that’s where Clover is, and if I can get on top of my horse, I’ll have a better chance of?—

“Gods, woman, stop wiggling around.”

The voice is male—deep and strangely familiar.

“Here, watch your head. That’s it. Two steps forward, and you can stand up without hitting yourself in the head again.”

Despite my terror at being discovered, the words soothe some of the jagged edges of my fear. Whoever this is, he’s not attacking me. Not yet, anyway.

“You can’t see in the dark, can you?” the man demands. “Why didn’t you light a fire?”

I squint in his general direction. If the weather weren’t so bad and we weren’t standing in a dense fir forest, I might have had a chance of spotting him. But the darkness is almost complete, and all I see is a faint outline of a person. A very large, hulking person.

“I didn’t want to attract strangers. Though it looks like you didn’t understand that message,” I snipe. “Who are you? Why are you following me?”

I feel the warmth of him before he touches my arm lightly. “I’m right here. We, ah, we met recently. On a rooftop.”

My heart thuds against my ribs. It’s the orc from Ultrup. He followed me all the way out here? Not good.

“You want those letters so badly, huh?” I slowly reach behind my back, where I’ve stashed another knife sewn into the lining of my jacket. “I told you I burned them.”

The stranger lets out a long exhale. “Could you please put that knife away? You can’t see. You’ve a better chance of hurting yourself than stabbing me.”

Damn it. I’ve lost the element of surprise.

“What do you want?” I demand. “You couldn’t have waited until morning to make this visit?”

“No, actually.” He sounds amused, his voice warm. “In an hour or so, the rain will start again, and you’ll be soaked through.”

“And you care about that why?” I put my hands on my hips, annoyed that I can’t even glare at him because I can’t focus my gaze on anything but a shadow.

“That’s a question I’d rather discuss once we’re somewhere dry,” he retorts.

I turn around, keeping my hands outstretched to avoid bumping into any more tree branches. “Thank you, but no. I’m fine here, as you can see. Now please leave. I told you I don’t have your letters anymore, and you told me you don’t care about the gold.”

He actually told me no such thing, and I do still have his letters, stashed in one of my bags, but he doesn’t need to know that.