“Yes.” I didn’t want her to finish the sentence, didn’t want to hear my mother’s name.
The silence between us only grew heavier when Trina asked, “Was Kestra involved?”
I shrugged, finding it impossible to explain the clash of emotions inside me whenever I thought about Kestra. What happened that night wasn’t her fault … yet it was, maybe almost as much as it was mine. I felt awful for being angry with her, and angry with myself for not having been part of Kestra’s rescue from that Dominion camp afterward. If I’d gone, maybe her necklace wouldn’t have been lost, maybe I could have kept her from the Blue Caves. Maybe I could have held us together, with some chance for a future.
Trina took my arm and gave it a comforting squeeze. “If it helps, I don’t entirely hate Kestra anymore. I think she really believes in our cause, that she isn’t doing this just because she used to care for you.”
Used to. I clenched my jaw and tried to focus only on putting one foot in front of the other. Trina probably didn’t realize how those two words pierced me.
Or how much worse it was when she added, “You’ll be angry when I say this, but you’ve got to hear it, so remember that I just forgave you for being horrible to me.”
I stopped walking, barely daring to ask. “What is it?”
“When you become king, they’ll expect you to choose a Halderian as a wife, someone who connects you to their clan. Perhaps someone with a prominent father.”
“Harlyn?” An uncomfortable few seconds passed while Trina waited for me to say something more. Finally, I asked, “Do you think there’s any chance Kestra and I could still—”
“I doubt you’ll ever accept her with magic. And she’ll never accept you as king of the clan that’s caused her such extensive harm.”
I waved that away. “That much won’t be a problem. I haven’t changed my mind.”
Something about that gave her a half-smile, but in the face of my solemn expression, she merely said, “I’ve never known anyone who works harder at fighting the inevitable. You cannot hold back the tide forever.”
Deep inside, I knew she was right, and not only about whether I might eventually have to claim the throne, but about whether I had to let Kestra go. That also seemed inevitable now. I held out an arm for Trina. “Let’s go, or Harlyn may become jealous.”
She laughed again, though once we returned to camp, we became far more serious. Basil had drawn a rough map of Reddengrad into the dirt, and he and Harlyn were discussing strategy.
We were currently camped on the north side of the wide Mistriver, which marked the boundary between Reddengrad and Antora. Immediately after crossing, we’d have a half day’s ride through a pass between steep mountain ranges. If we turned east, the pass would lead us to a forest encompassing King’s Lake, which Basil represented on his map with a large leaf. The capital, Lynsk, was in the west, marked with a small rock.
We gathered around the map. A little moonlight helped us to see in the gathering dark, though we still needed to press in close as Basil explained the plans.
“The Dominion army is probably two or three hours ahead of us. That will put them in position to attack Lynsk early in the morning. But my father will have the bulk of his forces waiting for them. If we come in from behind, they’ll be trapped.”
“All four of us?” I snorted. “That’s not a plan; it’s a death wish.”
Basil considered that a moment, then asked, “What do you propose?”
I used another stick to draw a line eastward. “Draw the enemy away from your capital.” I pointed to the area around King’s Lake. “What’s out there?”
“The Nesting Woods. In most ways, they would be perfect, but—” Basil’s eyes widened. “No, we should not fight from there.”
“Why not?”
“Do you remember I told you about the Rawkyren?” Seeing blank expressions on our faces, Basil added, “I assumed everyone knew. The Rawkyren is a particularly fierce breed of dragon—”
“Dragons don’t exist,” Harlyn said flatly.
Basil blinked twice at her before continuing. “We had thought so too, until seventy years ago when one was discovered deep within the Nesting Woods, a female. Rawkyren start out small but they eventually grow to a wingspan three times the size of Endrick’s condors. Their scales are reflective so they blend in with their environment, and they are deadly.”
Harlyn shivered. “You’re right. We’re not going to the Nesting Woods.”
“My grandfather killed the Rawkyren he found and another one has never been seen,” Basil said. “A canopy track was built overhead for travel through the woods so that people wouldn’t accidentally disturb a sleeping dragon, but no one goes there anyway.”
“If a dragon hasn’t been seen in seventy years, then the Rawkyren are probably extinct.” Trina spoke with conviction, though I wondered if the only reason one had not been found was because the woods had been abandoned. She added, “Can we mount a defense there?”
Basil nodded. “The canopy is too thick for their condors to pass through and the undergrowth may trip up their oropods.” His eyes suddenly lit with excitement. “Maybe we should go there! My grandfather stocked the tracks with pole weapons, so that if another Rawkyren was ever discovered, we’d be ready for it.” He drew in a sharp, excited gasp. “I need
to leave.” With that, he stood and hurried toward his horse.