After three hours of running, climbing, and small bursts of hiding we reached the camp we had left behind the night before. All of our stuff was still hidden deep under brush and the others quickly set to work locating our sleeping rolls and the rest of the supplies, including a much more comfortable change of clothes (it hadn't been easy running in a full skirt but thankfully I'd had on my most comfortable boots beneath).
Cethan and Andy took charge of our hostages. Lady Sybil refused to speak except to ask for her daughter. Her eyes were red – undoubtedly from crying - and she had dark welts across her cheeks from where the gag had been placed too tight. I could see that her wrists had been rubbed raw from constant jostling during the escape, and yet despite her obvious suffering the woman remained strong. Her keen blue eyes unfazed.
Flint set out our supper: cold jerky and two fresh loaves he'd managed to steal during the hour he'd been patrolling the tunnel's exit. Everyone exhaled loudly at the scent of fresh bread. At sea we'd been living on almost nothing but overly salted meats, barely preserved vegetables, and very stale baker's rolls that Andy had referred to as "rocks."
I watched Lady Sybil cradle her sleeping child - Andy had explained to the baroness that Tamora would be out for two days with the dose we had given her - and swallowed hard. The lady refused to eat. It was hard to imagine a woman like that – one that was brushing the strands of hair out of her daughter's eyes and adjusting the pale silk ribbon on the waist of her dress - was responsible for the rebel attacks in the desert. What was so important about this woman? She was only a baroness with no relation to the monarchy in Caltoth. She wasn't even a mage.
Darren took a seat on the other edge of the log Andy and I were sitting on. In his hands he was rotating a bit of his bread over and over again, watching Lady Sybil with an unreadable expression. I didn't say anything but I knew instinctively he was wondering the same thing I was. I knew he carried the weight of Caine's death on his shoulders, and I could see him trying to figure out the baroness's role in all of this. We weren't allowed to question the prisoner - Mira had made that very clear on our first day out at sea - but that didn't stop us from wondering.
Somehow my hand found a way to his, almost unconsciously. Darren looked up, startled, and I gave it a small squeeze. We had succeeded so far in our mission. Soon, eventually, this woman put an end to his guilt. We had accomplished a very important thing for our country… even if we didn't know what is was yet.
The prince cracked the barest of a smile and then his eyes fell to our interlocked fingers. My heartbeat stilled. I knew I had overstepped my bounds - that I should let go before it became more than a friendly reassurance - but then I saw his expression: not anger, not longing – grief, the same look he had worn during the funeral pyres in Red Desert.
Darren wasn't thinking about me. He was thinking about all the lives we had lost in the rebel attacks.
"It wasn't your fault," I whispered.
The non-heir didn't say anything. The only indication he had heard me was the tightening of his hand.
Just tonight, I decided, I would let it remain.
****
We had been traveling all day with relatively no rest. Our pace was slower than the day before, but not by much. Mira was convinced the Caltothians would be flooding the forest at any moment.
We had just settled into to a quick break to finish off the remains of our water when the low crunch of leaves alerted me of approaching enemies.
"Cast now!"
My warning came just in time - the rest of the group threw out a barrier. Arrows began to rain down from above, hitting the magicked barrier and then falling harmlessly to its side.
Someone groaned to my right and I saw Andy had not been so lucky. One of the enemy's missiles had got to her before the casting. I started forward to help but Cethan grabbed my arm and pointed to Tamora, grunting. Our first responsibility was to the mission, not a comrade. Still, I hesitated a moment longer until I saw Darren approach Andy.
Mira shouted for us to run – that she, Darren, and Andy would hold the Caltothians off as long as they could. When it was safe they would follow - if they could. "Remain with the ship as long as you can," she shouted, "but if the enemy arrives you must leave us behind. The fate of Jerar depends on this mission!"
So I ran.
The sun was already setting. Bright shards of light were shooting through the trees and blinding me as I followed Cethan and Flint along the trail. I could hear the shouts, the pounding of footsteps, the whistle of things cutting across the air, but I ignored it all and focused only on the girl in my arms and Flint's breathless direction.
We must have run for an hour before the sounds of fighting finally subsided from hearing. It made me anxious, scared for the others. How was Andy faring with her injured arm? Where was Darren? What would happen if our leader, Mira, was dead?
Cethan, Flint, and I slowed down our progress to double check the landmarks nearest.
There was a snap in the brush behind us and I swung around ready to cast—