Romeria
“Your Highness.” Brawley reaches for my horse’s bridle.
“No.” Jarek hops out of his saddle and steps in to cut off the stable hand. “She wants to ride this horse, she can learn how to care for it too.”
Brawley pales as he falters between the looming warrior and me. It’s his job to handle the horses before and after a day’s ride. It’s all he knows how to do. “But … Your Highness?”
I wave him off. “It’s fine. Zorya’s waiting for your help.”
The mortal can’t get away fast enough, and Zorya is only too happy to hand him her reins.
Slowly, I climb down from Eros’s back. My body is stiff from so many hours of focusing on my posture, but I refuse to whimper or complain or do anything that might hint at it.
Beside me, Elisaf smiles. “You did well today.”
My pride swells. “I did, didn’t I?” I rode the entire afternoon without losing control once.
“She was adequate,” Jarek counters, “for someone keeping pace with overloaded supply wagons.”
I snort. “You know what? From you, I will take that as a shining compliment.”
“Take it how you want, as long as you learn how to handle your tack. Start here.” Jarek walks me through the steps, using his horse as an example and waiting for me to follow with mine. When I’m forced to admit that I’m not strong enough to lift the heavy saddle without dragging it off the horse’s back, he doesn’t give me grief, his arms tensing as he hauls it away.
“You’re not a bad teacher.”
Jarek ignores my praise, handing me the reins. “Now you walk him to help cool him down.” He whistles at Brawley, shifting on his feet nearby. The mortal dives for the tack while Jarek, Elisaf, and I leisurely lead our horses toward the small pond.
I point to the glow of lights in the distance. “Have either of you been there before?”
“Norcaster? Yes. Anyone traveling this way stops there.” Elisaf strokes his horse’s snout.
I copy the move, and Eros treats me to an affectionate nuzzle. “What’s it like?”
“Smaller than you’d expect for such an important post in the north. Far more rustic than anything you’ve seen in Islor. The people are resilient and less refined. They’ve learned to survive much—both elven and mortal. The homes are simple and small and built for the harsh weather. The snow and wind that blows in off the range can be vicious on the coldest days. They have one tavern in the center of town where every traveler eventually lands, with room and board upstairs for a handsome fee, and a roaring fire to warm up next to with your mead or stew.”
“Until a table of inebriated bastards picks a fight with you.” Jarek jerks his chin at Horik in greeting.
“That has never happened to me there,” Elisaf counters.
“I guess you don’t look like much of a threat, because it has happened to me on many occasions there.”
“Maybe you have a face people feel compelled to punch,” I throw back.
The corners of his mouth curl. “I’ve heard that once or twice.”
But Elisaf’s words trigger a thought. “If every traveler goes through there, shouldn’t we go in to see what we can find out about this poison? Maybe Ybarisans are around.”
“Scouts have gone in to gather information. They will send more if needed.”
That’s right. I noticed Drakon has been gone for a couple days. It’s impossible to miss when the burly redhead isn’t here. He’s so loud.
“And there is no ‘we.’” Jarek chuckles. “After the stunt you pulled in Bellcross, I hazard the king won’t allow you within a hundred leagues of any town or city for some time.”
My anger flares. “I don’t have a keeper, and no one tells me what to do anymore.” I have been surviving on my own since I was fifteen, dealing with the murderous likes of Korsakov and his crew, and now I’m being told where I can and can’t go? Me, who apparently has this incomparable power within, waiting to surge?
Who has no clue how to use said power, but that’s beside the point. I have other skills.
“These mortals aren’t like the ones you’ve met so far.” Elisaf’s tone is gentle by comparison. “They’re brasher and bolder and tend to be more independent. In many ways, they coexist in a manner the king respects. But that does not mean they would not look for opportunities to gain power. That is the way of all. With the rebellion stirring, if they were to discover who you are and what your blood can do, they might use it to their advantage.”