Inside are a handful of small, odd-shaped tablets.
“Took it from Adora’s room. There’s enough medicine in there to dull the pain while we’re gettin’ to the fortress. It’ll help you ride faster.”
I refuse to cry.
Instead I thank him, then yell at him when it hurts like hulls as he helps me onto Haven. Once up, I feel over the bandages to ensure the wounds didn’t reopen, before pulling out two of the medicine tablets and swallowing them, hoping the herbs won’t just numb my leg and elbow, but everything else in me as well.
Tugging our cloaks around our faces, Colin and I canter out of the barn and across the yard where Breck’s waiting by the servants’ door. Our horses snort and shy when we get close, and judging by Breck’s tight frown at my greeting, I can’t really blame them. She’s clearly less than thrilled by this adventure.
Colin laughs. “It won’t be that bad,” he promises, yanking her up behind him.
We exit the gate through the pouring rain—and maybe it’s that we’re heading toward battle, or toward the deaths I’m about to cause, but a shudder ripples across my shoulders. And as much as I’m tempted, I don’t look back—for Adora. For Isobel.
For Eogan.
I gulp down the ache and, pressing Haven into a gallop, take the lead—weaving us through the mossy paths along the main road. It is cluttered with waterlogged carts and terrified-looking people, half of whom seem to be heading toward the High Court and the other half away from it. We slow a few times to cross paths between them, but then I’m right back to pushing our pace until, after twenty terrameters or so, the interior valley stretches out clear before us.
Soon the rain is the only sound aside from our horses’ hoofbeats as the sky pours out on the black dirt and wheat fields shooting straight through the heart of Faelen. We ride past farms and empty markets and people who’ve nowhere else to go but in their homes while they wait and listen for airships overhead or the metallic tromping of Bron feet. The downpour runs rivulets off the roofs and front doors of every hovel we pass, glinting with the slivers of candlelight from inside. Ushering us on toward the gnarled emerald forest and white mountains that, even from here, whisper haunting reminders of my parents and my past.
At midafternoon, we stop beneath an abandoned sheep shed for a meal. I take another two pills and tug back my hood to look over the map Colin’s pulling out.
He steps back and accidentally bumps into Breck, who’s shoving half a chicken in her mouth.
He clears his throat.
“You look . . .” He’s staring at my hair.
“Elemental, yes.” I hold my hand out for the map.
He passes it over and keeps gawking as it occurs to me he’s never seen my hair white before. Once I’ve unfolded the paper, he focuses long enough to point out a southwestern spot below Litchfell Forest where a sketched fortress is marked by a swirl of Adora’s ink. I nod and use my finger to trace the various roads and spots where Adora made notations of soldier encampments. From the looks of it, Bron’s forces are creeping along Litchfell and down on Faelen’s southern ridge. The airships must’ve destroyed our forces in the Fendres Pass days ago for how much of the area Bron now controls.
Colin leans over my shoulder. “What do you think?”
From her spot on the ground, Breck hooks a nappy chunk of hair behind her ear and says, “We need to be there by tomorrow afternoon.” As if neither of us were aware of the fact.
My thanks to her is canceled out by a coughing spell that rattles my entire body. When I’m done, I shake off Colin’s look of concern and show him the path I’m considering, which is the same as Adora’s with one exception. “Adora’s right. This is our best bet. It’s the fastest and will invite the least interference—both from our soldiers and Bron’s. Until we get to here.”
I indicate a spot on the forest’s edge, then move my finger farther north from her red line. “If we cut through Litchfell at this point and travel along the side of the Fendres range, we’ll arrive sooner. It’ll be more dangerous since we’ll be walled in, but if I remember correctly, it shouldn’t last more than a few terrameters and then we can cut up the side here.”
I glance at him. “And by ‘dangerous’ I mainly mean bolcranes.”
He grins. “Breck?”
She wipes her mouth with a handkerchief and shrugs. “Doesn’t scare me.”
“Finally grew a backbone,” Colin whispers at me conspiratorially. “From bein’ around Isobel I think.”
Breck lobs a hunk of bread and manages to hit him on the arm. I grab it and hobble off to feed it to the horses, leaving the twins to their scuffle.
I’ve just finished adjusting Haven’s bridle when Colin is suddenly at my elbow.
“About ready then?” I ask him.
He doesn’t move. Just crosses his arms and stands there.
I frown. “What?”