He was entirely alone, and had been for a full day, but the sounds of the jungle seemed far too loud. He’d never realized how accustomed he was to the sounds of the castle—the hum of the staff moving about, the quiet voices that echoed through the halls, the way the wind would gently rattle his window. Even in the wagon he’d been more comfortable, surrounded by the voices he’d known all his life.
But out here, without another soul anywhere near, the sounds were deafening. The crickets were singing a constant, manic rhythm, and a frog would croak every now and then, as if trying to accompany them. The noise only increased his panic about being completely alone.
He wiped the back of his arm across his forehead and batted a giant green leaf away from his face. He had to be close to the river by now. He couldn’t hear it yet, but he’d headed west after leaving the wagon. Unless he’d drifted off course, he’d be there at any moment.
He trudged forward. His feet had begun to ache, but it was nothing compared to the thirst, and he forced his legs to move faster, until he finally heard the sounds of the water lapping against the shore.
The homes appeared as soon as he was able to see the river, and he stopped, startled that anyone lived out here. He’d known a large number of the Lera people lived in the jungle, but he’d never actually seen them.
The homes directly on the river were built on rafts, floating right on the shore. The homes a bit farther up the shore were built high off the ground, pieces of wood taller than him elevating the homes so they were safe from floods. The roofs were made of woven palms, and some of the homes didn’t have walls. They wouldn’t have needed them, since it was never cold this far inland and they probably welcomed the frequent rain.
He looked from the rushing water to the homes, reluctant to leave the safety of the trees. A woman emerged from one of the raft homes, wearing clothes that must have been brought in from a Lera city. Her skirt was knee-length and bright red, and she wore a white sleeveless shirt. The clothes were old and worn, and she must have had them for a long time.
Another woman followed her, outfitted in a skirt made of dried grass and only a scrap of fabric to cover her chest. They both headed away from Cas.
A whispered voice sounded from behind him. Cas’s body went cold. He slowly looked over his shoulder.
A spear was pointed right between his eyes.
He turned, raising his hands in surrender. Two men stood in front of him. One was about Cas’s age, the other much older. The young man had a sword dangling from his hand, letting the older man handle the spear that was pointed at Cas.
“I was just going to the river,” Cas said. “For water.”
The young man stepped closer to him, moving toward Cas so quietly that it became very obvious how these two had managed to sneak up on him so easily. He wore pants that ended above his knees, and a stained gray shirt. The older man wore the same kind of pants but no shirt at all.
The old man jabbed him in the chest with the spear and Cas gasped, stumbling backward. He’d poked Cas just hard enough to break the skin, and a dot of red started to appear over the castle insignia.
“You’re from the castle,” the man said accusingly. Cas flashed back to the warriors saying they were going to let the locals know there was a price on the prince’s head.
“I—I stole it.” His lie came out hesitantly. “The person wearing it was dead, so I took it. The Olso warriors attacked the castle.”
“Did the warriors kill the people in the castle?” The older man was so hopeful suddenly that Cas had to beat down a swell of rage. The image of his father’s white shirt turning red flashed through his memory.
“Some of them,” he said quietly.
“Good.” The man nodded, as if this satisfied him.
“You can have some water,” the young man said, sheathing his sword. “Then you’ll leave.”
Cas tried to appear grateful. The old man ran ahead, skipping over rocks until he reached the shore. The other man walked behind Cas, a little too close for comfort.
The old man walked to a large bucket and grabbed a cup hanging from the side. He scooped it inside, then held it out to Cas. “It’s clean.”
Cas took a quick, covert sniff of the water before tipping it to his mouth. It was clean, though it had an earthy taste, with a hint of fish. He gulped it down anyway, wiping a hand across his mouth when he was done. The man scooped out another cup for him, looking at Cas like he was an idiot as he drained that one as well.
“You should have stayed in the city,” the man said.
“Olso has taken over the city.” Cas handed him the cup. “They could come here. You should be careful.”
The man laughed. “Olso warriors have no problem with us.”
Cas just shrugged. “Thank you for the water.”
The man pointed in the direction Cas had come from. “Royal City is back that way.”
Cas didn’t tell him he wasn’t going to Royal City. Let them think he was.
“The others aren’t coming this way, are they?” the young man asked.
“What others?” Cas asked.