“It is good to have many strengths, Natiya,” I said more gently, remembering the cold fullness of the knife in my hand as I plunged it into the Komizar’s gut. “Do not sacrifice one kind of strength for another.”
* * *
One night, when Natiya and I were both too spent to practice anything, and I sensed it might be our last camp before reaching Morrighan’s border, I emptied out my saddlebag to get the ancient texts I had packed away. It was time to teach her about what had come before, not just what we were heading into. All I found was the Last Testaments of Gaudrel. I ruffled through the contents again, shaking out my folded shirt and chemise. The Song of Venda was gone. I went on a rampage, asking who had gone through my bag. I knew I had carefully tucked both thin books into the bottom.
“You sure you packed them?” Tavish asked.
I glared at him. “Yes! I remember when—” I caught my breath. The bag had been in my possession for the entire journey—except at the beginning when I’d handed it to Rafe. He’d insisted on carrying it. It had been less than a few minutes while we walked, but then I had looked away while I checked my horse and supplies. He had stolen it? Why? Did he think stealing it would make the truths disappear too? Or that it would shake my resolve?
“Lia?” Natiya looked at me with worried eyes. “Are you all right?”
Stealing the book would change nothing. “I’m fine, Natiya. Come help me make a fire. I have some stories to tell you, and I expect you to remember them word for word in case anything happens to me.”
Jeb looked up from what he was doing, the same worried expression crossing over his face. “But nothing is going to happen,” he said firmly, his eyes locked on mine.
“No,” I answered to reassure him. “Nothing.” But we both knew that was a promise that couldn’t be made.
* * *
We reached the southern border of Morrighan—at least according to Kaden. There were no markers. We were still in the wilderness.
Tavish had looked down at the ground. “I don’t see a line. You see a line, Orrin?”
“Not me.”
“I think the border’s a little farther ahead yet,” Jeb added.
Kaden and I exchanged a glance, but we traveled on with them for several more miles before I decided to get our doubts out in the open. All three had made not-so-subtle pleas for my return to Dalbreck when we were out of Kaden’s earshot. They had made the same stern suggestions privately to him, in what seemed an effort to divide and conquer. I stopped my horse and looked all three squarely in the eyes. “Was there another purpose to your escort besides protection in the Cam Lanteux”—I tipped my head in acknowledgment toward Orrin—“and keeping us well fed? Did your king charge you with forcing me to return if the long ride didn’t change my mind?”
“Never,” Jeb answered. “His word is true.”
Not entirely, I thought.
Jeb sat back in his saddle and surveyed the barren hills ahead of us as if it roiled with vipers. “What do you plan to do when you get there?” he asked.
Exactly what the traitors had always feared. I had practice at this, only this time I would do it better—but I knew my plans would not soothe Jeb’s misgivings. “I plan to stay alive.”
He smiled.
“It’s time for you to return home. I can assure you, this is Morrighan,” I said. “I see the line even if you can’t, and I don’t want it to be a regrettable one that you cross. You have your orders from your king.”
Jeb looked stricken, and I was afraid he wouldn’t turn back.
Tavish glanced at Kaden, then stared solemnly at me. “You’re sure about this?”
I nodded.
“Any messages you’d like me to take back to the king?”
A chance for last words. Probably the last he would ever hear from me. “No,” I whispered. As the king had already said, it was for the best.
“Hang me, I say we take her back anyway.”
“Shut up, Orrin,” Jeb ordered.
Orrin swung down from his saddle and secured a hare he had snared to Natiya’s pack. He cursed under his breath and returned to his horse.
And that was it. We said our good-byes, and they left. Now, as Rafe had so ardently pointed out before we parted, my death would be on my own kingdom, not his.