When the clouds finally dispersed midafternoon the next day, we set out moving west to get back to our main trail. Zach led us through the trees and brush with ease, barely glancing at the marks he had made. It was as if he already knew this forest like the back of his hand.
As we traveled we could see the devastation from last night’s storm. Ice in one form or another seemed to be everywhere—sheets of it on the bark, icicles hanging from branches—and huge cracks where the ground had split apart, showing frozen roots, so we had to go out of our way several times. I just hoped the storm had stayed in the forest and not moved on to any nearby villages.
“I’m really getting sick of these trees,” I muttered, brushing aside a branch. “How much more of this forest, you think?”
Brom plucked our map from one of his saddlebags. He unfurled it and sighed. “At least another day.”
“If we’re lucky, we’ll come across one of the cleared areas by nightfall,” Zach said without looking back.
Brom handed the map to me so I could double-check, and with just a glance, I saw he was right. The forest we were in took up a large portion of the middle of the map, stretching from east to west with tidy illustrated trees to show the wooded areas. There were small patches of the forest without the tree drawings—small but definitely there. “Yes, there’re a few ahead.” I traced my finger across the map and paused at a small cluster of houses. “Those must be the areas this village uses for lumber.”
As I leaned over to tuck the map back into Brom’s saddlebag, I muttered to him, “I’m surprised he remembers that from our meeting with Commander Weldan. He was hardly paying attention.”
“I heard that,” he called back.
Brom and I laughed.
Zach tilted his head to the sky. “With no trees overhead, it looks like we’ll get to see the stars tonight.”
Clear skies at last—perhaps even a sliver of the new moon. Though my enthusiasm for the vast night sky made the day and our travels just grow longer. I felt my mind drift several times as we passed tree after tree.
“Where do you think she came from? What kingdom, I mean?” I asked Brom when we had stopped to give the horses a chance to drink from the nearby stream. It was early evening, and the trees were at last beginning to thin.
“The mage? I’ve never seen her in Myria.” Brom shrugged. “I haven’t heard any rumors about a young female mage, either.”
“She’s definitely been west,” Zach piped in, washing his hands in the stream and splashing water onto his face. He winced. “That’s freezing.”
“The streams come from the mountains, so they’re practically all melted snow.” I went over to him with a clean cloth and brushed it against his face as he reached for it. Our hands touched, and we both flinched—the memory from last night on my mind, at least.
“Why do you think she’s from Saevall?” I asked, pushing past the awkward moment.
“I didn’t say she’s from there. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s from Raed.”
My mother had just come from Raed with news that the Wicked Queen had last been sighted there. Maybe the mage knew something about the Sable Dragon, which was why she was so far north. But that was unlikely. Few people could decipher omens from regular dark activity, let alone understand what those signs meant.
“She’s been west, at least, because she’s heard of me,” Zach said.
Brom filled up his flask and tilted his chin in thought. “But many people from across the kingdoms have heard of the Swordsman Prince.”
“Yes, but few know that I fight without a partner. That’s a rare piece of information that’s often rumored but never confirmed.”
“Why? Do you not want people to know of your one-man crusade for True Love?” I asked.
He chuckled. “It wasn’t my idea. It was Weldan’s.” Zach handed me back the now-damp cloth. “Weldan fought for me at the Saevallan Council to allow me into their Legion. They weren’t pleased about it, especially when they learned I was the son of a Romantica. They didn’t trust me, but Weldan argued on my behalf.”
“Did he know that you were…?” I asked.
“A Romantica? I never told him outright, but I think he suspected. Even so…Weldan cares more about killing monsters than bloodlines. He saw I could fight and wanted me in the Legion. Somewhere down the line, I think we became friends. Hard to believe, right?” he said with a crooked grin.
I recalled the conflicting way Weldan treated Zach—in front of his men, harsh and irritated, but alone with me, he’d spoken of Zach with reverence and confidence. I could sympathize with Weldan’s plight. He couldn’t show favoritism to friends, especially if those friends excelled above all others and were heretics.
“Not so hard to believe,” I said with a wink.
Zach raised his eyebrows and glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway, once I proved myself on the battlefield, the Council didn’t need any more convincing. Of course, when they found out I wouldn’t take a partner, they almost threw me out. But Weldan said I should at least be allowed access to the information about the Forces provided by the Legion’s sources, with the stipulation that I keep quiet about my…opinions.”
“Does Weldan share your opinions?”
Zach stared off into the trees thoughtfully. “No, but he does respect them.”
Only a few days ago the jab would’ve ruffled my feathers, but now I could tell he didn’t mean it to be offensive. Strange, that we could talk about this topic without either of us getting irrationally angry.
Him, because he believed he’d won the argument.
And me, because I knew it to be only a temporary truce. I still planned to get his Kiss.
…
By dusk we had come across several tree stumps, evidence of the nearby village. It made our pace faster, but mostly it was just a relief to travel without branches brushing my arms, legs, and head.
It was when the sun was finally shining its last rays—great streaks of yellow and orange across the sky—that Zach stopped and raised his arm, pointing toward the horizon. “Smoke. There. Do you see it?”
It was faint. A subtle white haze drifting above the trees. It wasn’t too far away, either, perhaps a little over a mile.
“A village?” I asked.
He squinted at the smoke. “Looks like it’s coming from a large open fire, maybe even a bonfire. Unusual for a village. The mage again? She could’ve looped ahead of us…outrun the storm.”
“Don’t think so. Mage fire smoke usually gives off a coppery tint,” I said.
“Troll’s breath,” Zach cursed, dropping his gaze from the smoke to the sparse woods around us. “It’s directly in our path. If we go around it, it could add another two hours out of the way, and we need to stop for the night.” He looked to Brom and me. “It’s probably nothing I can’t handle.”
“Could be bandits,” I pointed out.
Zach smirked. “Like I said, nothing I can’t handle.”
Remembering his complete and total victory over Amias, I couldn’t argue with him. I rolled my eyes anyway. “What a pompous prince.”
Zach laughed loudly, and a buzz of happiness went through me.
The smoke grew as we traveled, as if its masters were feeding the flames with triple the amount of wood it had started with. The sweet burning smell tickled my nose, and in its fragrance I could detect the aroma of pork and wild pheasant. My mouth watered. It had been a while since we’d stayed at the village with Patrice’s delicious stew.
Once we heard voices, the crackle of the fire, and faint music, Zach made us stop, and we dismounted. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
I grasped his wrist. “Be careful, they could—”
Zach placed two fingers on my lips. “I appreciate you worrying about me, but I’ll be fine.”
I pushed his hand away. “Get on, then,” I snapped, ignoring the way my pulse had quickened. “I’m starving.”
Zach disappeared into the gloom of the trees, and Bromley and I barely waited for more than five minutes before Zach came back, not nearly as surreptitiously as before.
“It’s a band of entertainers—perfectly harmless.”