So where is Etcher? Where are those they intended to meet?
He crept carefully, slipping nimbly around a holly tree and up the slope. Half-buried stones and tilted rocks lay hidden beneath grass and thorns, making the passage a challenge. He circled once and found no sentries or movement.
He climbed higher and happened upon two bodies. The men were dead, yet still warm to the touch—more than warm, they felt … hot. There were no wounds, no blood. Royce proceeded up the last of the hill, advancing on the flickering fire. The princess sat huddled near it, quietly staring into the flames. She was alone and lacked even her travel bags.
“Arista?” he whispered.
She looked up lazily, drunkenly, as if her head weighed more than it should. The glow of the fire spilled across her face. Her eyes appeared red and swollen. A welt stood out on one of her cheeks.
“It’s Royce. You all right?”
“Yes,” she replied. Her voice sounded distant and weak.
“Are you alone?”
She nodded.
He stepped into the firelight and waited. Nothing happened. A light summer breeze gently brushed the hill’s grass and breathed on the flames. Above them, the stars shone, muted only by the white moon, which cast nighttime shadows. Arista sat with the stillness of a statue, except for the hairbrush she turned over and over in her hands. As tranquil as the scene appeared, Royce’s senses were tense. This place made him uneasy. The odd marble blocks, toppled and broken, rose out of the ground like teeth. Once more he wondered if somehow he was tapping into his elven heritage, sensing more than could be seen, feeling a memory lost in time.
He caught sight of movement down the slope and spotted Hadrian climbing toward them. He watched him pause for a moment near the bodies before continuing up.
“Where’s Etcher?” Royce asked the princess.
“He left. He was paid by Luis Guy to bring me here, to deliver me to some men.”
“Yeah. We found that out a bit late. Sorry.”
The princess did not look well. She was too quiet. He expected anger or relief, but her stillness was eerie. Something had happened—something bad. Besides the welt, there was no sign of abuse. Her clothes were intact. There were no rips or tears. He spotted several blades of dead grass and a brown leaf tangled in her hair.
“You all right?” Hadrian asked as he crested the hill. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head and one of the bits of grass fell out.
Hadrian crouched down next to her. “Are you sure? What happened?”
Arista did not answer. She stared at the fire and started to rock.
“What happened to the men down on the hill?” Hadrian asked Royce.
“Wasn’t me. They were dead when I found them. No wounds either.”
“But how—”
“I killed them,” Arista said.
They both turned and stared at her.
“You killed two Seret Knights?” Royce asked.
“Were they seret?” Arista muttered.
“They have broken-crown rings,” Royce explained. “There’s no wound on either body. How did you kill them?”
She started trembling, her breaths drawn in staggered bursts. Her hand went to her cheek, rubbing it lightly with her fingertips. “They attacked me. I—I couldn’t think of—I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared. They were going to—and I was alone. I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t fight. I couldn’t hide. All I could do was make them sneeze and boil water. I didn’t have a choice. It was all I could do.” She began sobbing.
Hadrian tentatively reached toward her. She dropped the brush and took his hands, squeezing them tightly. She pulled at him and he wrapped his arms around her while she buried her face into the folds of his shirt. He gently stroked her hair.
Hadrian looked up at Royce with a puzzled expression and whispered, “She made them sneeze to death?”
“No,” Royce said, glancing back over his shoulder in the direction of the bodies. “She boiled water.”
“I didn’t know—I didn’t know if it would really work,” she whispered between hitching breaths. “I—I had to change it. Switch the focus. Fill in the blanks on my own—invent a whole new spell. I was only guessing, but—but it felt right. The pieces fit. I felt them fit—I made them fit.”
Arista lifted her head, wiped her eyes, and looked down the slope of the hill. “They screamed for a very long time. They were on the ground—writhing. I—I tried to stop it then, but I didn’t know how and they just kept—they kept on screaming, their faces turning so red. They rolled around on the ground and clawed the dirt, they cried and their screams—they—they got quieter and quieter, then they didn’t make any noise except—except they were hissing—hissing and I could see steam rising from their skin.”
Tears continued to slip down her cheeks as she looked up at them. Hadrian wiped her face.