“I’ve never killed anyone before.”
“It’s okay,” Hadrian told her, stroking the back of her head and clearing away the remainder of the grass and leaves. “You didn’t want to do it.”
“I know. It’s just—just that I’ve never killed anyone before, and you didn’t hear them. It’s horrible, like part of me was dying with them. I don’t know how you do it, Royce. I just don’t know.”
“You do it by realizing that if the situation was reversed and they succeeded, they wouldn’t be crying.”
Hadrian slipped a finger under her chin and tilted her face. He cleared the hair stuck to her cheeks and brushed his thumbs under her eyes. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to. I’m just sorry I wasn’t here for you.”
Arista looked into his eyes for a moment, then nodded and took a clear deep breath and wiped her nose. “I’m really ruining your impression of me, aren’t I? I get drunk, I wolf down food, I think nothing of sharing a room with you, and now I …”
“You’ve nothing to be ashamed of,” Hadrian told her. “I only wish more princesses were as worthy of their title as you.”
Royce made another survey of the hill and a thorough check of the seret, their horses, and their gear. He found symbol-emblazoned tunics, confirming their knightly identities, and a good-sized bag of gold, but no documents of any sort. He pulled the saddle and bridle off one horse and let it go.
“There’s only the two?” Hadrian asked when he returned. “I expected more.” He stirred the coals of the fire with a stick, brightening the hilltop. Arista looked better. She was eating a bit of cheese. Her face was washed, her hair brushed. She certainly was showing more resilience than he had expected.
“Gives you a whole new respect for Etcher, doesn’t it?” Royce said.
“How do you mean?”
“He never planned to bring all of us here, just her. He’s a lot brighter than I gave him credit for.”
“He wasn’t too smart,” Arista told them. “The seret cheated him out of thirty gold Luis Guy had promised.”
“So this was Guy’s operation, not Merrick’s,” Hadrian said.
“Not sure,” Royce responded. “Seems too sophisticated for Guy, but Merrick’s plans don’t fail.” He looked at the princess. “Of course, not even Merrick could have anticipated what she did.”
Hadrian stood up and threw away the stick, then looked at the princess. “You gonna be okay? Can you ride?”
She nodded rapidly and followed it with a sniffle. “I was pretty scared—really missed you two. You have no idea—no idea how happy I am to see you again.” She blew her nose.
“I get that from a lot of women,” Hadrian replied, grinning. “But I’ll admit, you’re the first princess.”
She managed a slight smile. “So what do we do now? I haven’t a clue where we are, and I’m pretty sure there isn’t any meeting with Gaunt.”
“There could be,” Royce said. “But Cosmos doesn’t know where we are to tell us. I’m sure Etcher never carried any message about Hintindar back to Colnora. I should have told Price before we left, but I didn’t want to take chances. Just stupid, really. I was being too cautious.”
“Well, you know I’m not going to argue,” Hadrian told him. “It was withholding information that got us into this.”
Arista looked at Royce questioningly.
“I told him,” Royce said.
“No bruises?” she asked. “Not even a black eye?”
“We never got that far, but maybe later when we have more time,” Hadrian said. “Turned out we had to hurry to save a woman who didn’t need saving.”
“I’m real glad you did.”
“We should head to Ratibor,” Royce said. “We aren’t too far. We can reestablish connection with the Diamond there.”
“Ratibor?” Hadrian said suddenly.
“Yeah, you know, dirty, filthy rat hole—the capital of Rhenydd? We’ve seen where you grew up, so we might as well stop by my hometown as well.”
Hadrian started searching his clothing. “Hunting a boar!” he exclaimed as he pulled out the note from his father. He rushed toward the firelight. “‘A king and his knight went hunting a boar; a rat and his friends were hunting for lore.’ A rat and a boar—Ratibor! The king and his knight are my father and the heir, who must have traveled to Ratibor and were attacked by lore hunters.” Hadrian pointed over his shoulder in the direction of the dead men. “Seret.”
“What’s the rest of it?” Royce asked, intrigued.
“‘Together they fought, till one was alive. The knight sadly wept; no king had survived.’”
“So they fought, but only your father survived the battle and the heir was killed.”
“No king had survived,” Hadrian said. “An odd way to put that, isn’t it? Why not say ‘The king died’?”
“Because it doesn’t rhyme?” Royce suggested.
“Good point.”
“What comes next?” Arista asked.