The day is brisk.

A cold stream weaves through the tree branches. It runs a slender finger over the hem of my filthy tunic, lifting it slightly as I approach the traveling party. Spring is just starting to arrive, so there’s still a bite to the air. Even so, the sun thaws a fraction of the ice that’s covered my bones for months on end. 

I draw in a deep breath of fresh air until my lungs can’t expand further, bordering on painful. It’s even more refreshing than I remember.

The captain is standing next to a pretty yet fairly young horse, tightening the straps of the saddle. I walk to the horse’s side and run a hand over his belly before walking around to his front. I let him sniff my palm, and after a beat, he nuzzles his snout into it.

“This is Yago,” he says. “Have you ridden before?”

“Yes, but not for a while.” I scratch down Yago’s forehead. “I’ll adapt quickly, I’m sure.” 

I turn to him, craning my neck slightly. Gods, I’m not the shortest person ever, but he stands a good head and shoulders above me. In the sunlight, I can see I was wrong before. Handsome was an understatement. He’s focused on preparing Yago, his face the portrait of concentration. His dark brown eyes are lined with thick, long lashes and remind me of wet earth. Dark brows, a straight nose, and high cheekbones frame his face. Upon closer inspection, I see threads of gold weave through his chocolate waves. A full mouth pulls down as he looks over his work once more before turning to me.

Beautiful is more like it. It hits me suddenly that I don’t know his name.

“What should I call you?”

His features smooth into a neutral position. “My name is Callahan West. I go by Cal, though.”

“Callahan” I say, feeling it roll over my tongue. “Is the journey really twelve days?”

“Unfortunately, yes. We have to cross most of the continent to reach Cissonia. We’ll keep a quick pace to speed it along as much as possible.”

The knot that’s been twisted in my stomach since the Captain’s arrival constricts tighter at the mention of the infamous shadow kingdom. Home of the wild fang cats, the feared beasts that make up Osric’s front line of defense. I haven’t been to the city, but my father had never spoken highly of it, saying it wasn’t a place worth visiting. 

Callahan reaches behind him into the satchel attached to the saddle and pulls out a set of riding leathers and a pair of boots.

“Here,” he says, handing the clothes to me. “I imagine these would be better to ride in than what you have on now.”

I take the leathers and rub my fingers over the soft yet durable fabric, surprise flickering through my body. For some reason, I wasn’t expecting to be offered a luxury such as this. I eye the clothes and the Captain warily before deciding it’s best not to look a gift horse in the mouth and duck behind a tree to change. 

I strip off the rags I’m wearing and toss them into a heap on the ground, not bothering to fold them. They won’t be coming with me, after all. They’re of no importance, a threadbare dress and a pair of leggings one of Njal’s men threw into my cage when the clothes I had arrived in had literally fallen apart at the seams.

I tug on the pair of black trousers before slipping the long-sleeved tunic over my head. The material is thick and buttery and a rich, deep blue color. Carefully handmade and expensive. I can tell it’s supposed to be close fitting, but instead hangs shapelessly off my too-thin body. 

I tug on the boots and lace up the fronts. They’re a bit big, but they’ll do for now. I wrap my arms around my waist self-consciously and step out from behind the tree, walking back to Yago and Callahan. The soldiers are starting to mount up, a few urging their horses forward a few paces to set the lead. Callahan holds out a cloak for me, and I take it, wrapping it around my shoulders. He makes to help me mount but I swat his hand away, bristling at the unwanted contact. Too close. He gets the hint and takes a step back.

I wrap one hand around the pommel and grip the reins with the other, clumsily putting one foot in the stirrup and attempting to jump and throw my other leg over Yago’s back. It used to be second nature to mount a horse, but I find myself now on my third pass, my face hot from exertion and embarrassment. Deciding I can’t endure much more humiliation, I grab the pommel with my second hand and haul myself up, the muscles in my shoulders and biceps screaming as I finally situate myself in the saddle. Certainly not the prettiest way to do it, but I did it nonetheless. I press my feet gently into Yago’s haunches to spur him forward, and he moves forward into an slow trot. This, at least, is familiar movement, and we soon fall into a steady rhythm. 

Callahan and his gelding catch up a moment later, matching pace on my right, but I’m too lost in the sense of the air on my face to notice him much. It stings my face, cold enough that my eyes water. I welcome the hurt and leave the hood of my cloak down, the train rippling behind me.  I never thought I would feel the wind through my hair again. I tilt my head back and drink in the clear, blue sky above me. By now, the tip of my nose has surely turned pink. 

A nagging voice in the back of my head tells me to enjoy it while I can, considering my new royal cage awaits me on the other side of this journey.

I push the thought and ensuing panic out of my head and focus my attention back on the path in front of me. I’d forgotten that Njal’s manor was situated outside the forested part of Rokos. A day or two’s ride, and we’ll be in the thick of it. Anxiety spikes through my veins and I twist in my seat to look at Callahan.

“Are we planning to ride straight through the forest?”

His eyes flick to meet mine. “Unfortunately. It’s the quickest way, and the King wants us back as soon as possible.”

My ears perk up at that. “What’s the rush?”

“Afraid that’s confidential, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

Confidential? Interesting. I decide not to push for now but mentally file the information away. “I’m really hoping your men are prepared to face what lives in the woods.”

The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “I assure you, they are highly trained and will lay down their lives to protect you.”

Lay down their lives? For a woman they just met? I’m assuming it has something to do with the King not wanting his goods to be damaged in transit, but it still strikes me odd that they would do anything to ensure my safety. I’m not sure I’m worth sacrificing the life of another’s.

I turn back around, and we ride in silence. Although it’s cold, the sun still beats down on us. I soak it up, not caring that I’ll probably wake up in the morning with red cheeks.

I can’t drink in the scenery quick enough. It’s nothing spectacular, if anything rather plain when it comes to natural beauty. Not that of the roaring falls over the cliffs in the East part of Aeris, nor the famed dunes of sand in the north continent of Vidas. Instead, a flat expanse of tall grassland dotted with random clusters of trees and small shrubs is the first sight that greets me after two years. The breeze sends ripples through the strands of grass that vaguely resemble the ocean’s waves. It’s devoid of animals save for the flock of water fowl migrating south for the upcoming warmer months.

But the trees are just beginning to bud. And the first flowers of spring are peeking through the cold ground, shoots of blue bravely daring to sprout when the risk of frost still looms for at least two more weeks. It’s this beauty that causes the lump in my throat to form.

The group passes over the countryside, not encountering a single soul the entire time until we eventually arrive at a small outcropping of trees. The sun’s golden rays have begun to deepen into a warm burnt amber as they slowly slip behind the horizon. Purple and and the deepest emerald shade of blue tinge the edges of the sky, swallowing it more with every step Yago takes.

One by one, the stars make themselves visible, and the rest of the world falls away. I’ve been locked away from this for so long. Even after all this time, it’s still the same night sky I used to dance under with my family. Tears threaten to spill, but I somehow manage to hold them in. I refuse to cry in front of the Captain of the Guard and his men. I will not reveal those cards. The physical state I’m in is all the weakness I will allow them to see.

But Gods, I missed this.

Callahan whistles to the men at the front of the pack, jarring me from my thoughts. They slow to a halt and start to dismount.

“We’ll stop here for the night. There’s a creek at the edge of the tree line. You can use it to freshen up if you’d like. It’ll be freezing probably, but it’s better than nothing. There’s a bar of soap in your satchel along with a wash rag.”

Nodding, I dismount and take Yago’s reigns and lead him until we come to the edge of the creek. I deposit Yago in a small grassy clearing to let him feed. I rummage until I find the small square of soap and rag and set it on a large rock. I untie the laces of my boots and dip a toe into the water, testing it. 

Goosebumps shoot up my spine at the frigid temperature. Not brave — or hello, stupid– enough to fully immerse myself in it, I settle for dipping the rag into the creek and lathering it with soap, sponging off only the areas I can bare to touch with the freezing water. I reach under my tunic and pass the rag under my armpits before moving down to my feet, my newly attached cuffs clinking against each other. I rinse and work on wiping away the dirt on my arms, doing my best to clean under each cuff, but they’re too tight to do much. 

Bringing my dripping wet hands to my face, I inspect the cuffs for the first time. They’re unadorned, a muted gray stone band that encompasses my entire wrist. They’re fastened on tightly but not enough to cause welts. I flip my hand over and run a finger down the seam. A small keyhole sits in the center.

I furrow my brows. Callahan mentioned before we left that my cell was made entirely of something called calemarine. I wrack my brain, trying to remember if I’ve learned about it before, but nothing comes to mind. In my cell, it felt like a weight was constantly sitting on my chest, smothering every whisp of flame and energy from my body. I had accredited it to claustrophobia and the assumption that Njal was drugging my food with something to suppress my magic.

These cuffs feel different, though. I still can’t reach my fire, but the weight from my cell has disappeared. I feel lighter.

I make a mental note to ask Callahan about the effects of calemarine at some point and drop my hands back into the creek. I scoop up two palm-fulls of water and splash my face, rubbing my fingers around the curves of my nostrils and under my eyes. Using the front of my tunic, I wipe it dry before wringing out the wet rag and setting it on a nearby stone. My clothes stick the places that are still damp, but I don’t care. It’s the cleanest I’ve felt in a while.

I reach a hand up to my hair and feel the knots that are tied into the long, black strands. I debate dipping it into the creek to try and work out some of the mats but decide I’d rather not freeze on day one of traveling. I’ve made it this long. I figure I can wait a few more days to untangle the rat’s nest.

I walk over to Yago and brush my hand down his neck before grabbing the reins and walking him back to camp. The guards have made quick work of setting up. The tents stand in two rows, forming a semi-circle around the bonfire that roars in the center of the camp. I’m heading toward it to warm my aching muscles when Callahan spots me and walks over to my side. He takes Yago’s reins from me and hands them off to another guard who leads him to the other horses. 

“I had them place your tent over there,” he says and points to a small tent across the way. It stands closest to the fire. “If you ever need anything, mine will always be on the edge of camp. Chef just started serving dinner, so if you’re hungry, I’d get in line while it’s still hot. Whether you want to sit with us or retire to your tent is your choice, but don’t feel like you need to keep your distance. I’m sure the guards would love some new company.”

I glance over to where the soldiers have begun lining up in single-file fashion, iron bowls in hand. A rather tall, portly man with long golden-red hair and a scraggly beard frowns as he ladles some sort of chowder into the men’s awaiting bowls. The smell wafts in our direction, and my mouth waters in response. 

I look back to Callahan. “Thanks for the invitation, but I think I’ll stay in my tent. I’d like to rest as much as I can before the long ride tomorrow.”

Callahan nods curtly. “Good idea. It’s going to be a long day. We’ll take only a few breaks to water the horses but otherwise, be prepared for an all-day journey.”

My eyes droop slightly at that. Heavy exhaustion wears down my bones, but I can’t ignore the rumbling in my stomach any longer. I pass a glance his way, eyeing the exhaustion also etched into his features. “Goodnight, Captain West.”

“It’s just Cal. Goodnight, Aruna.” He turns on his heel. I watch as he sits on the edge of a log next to the fire and stretches his long legs out in front of him. Someone cracks a joke, and his shoulders shake with laughter.

A pit forms in the bottom of my stomach at the sight. I can’t help but feel duped by the normalcy of it all. Rather than comfort me at how casual they are with one another, it has the opposite effect. I feel my wariness grow, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

I make my way over to the end of the line. Most of the men have gotten their food already, so it’s not long before I’m two people away from filling my belly.

“I better not find another one of your beard hairs in the chow this time, Archie.”

The chef narrows his eyes. Up close, his size, coupled with the death glare he’s shooting at the guard in front of me, is downright terrifying. His hands dwarf the ladle he’s holding, a damn-near child’s toy. I’m sure he could snap my neck between his thumb and forefinger without batting an eye.

“Or what, Dustin? Would you rather be the one to keep you lot fed?” He pauses as if in thought and then continues. “Scratch that idea. I’ve tasted your cooking before, and I’d rather go hungry than do it again.”

A few of the men snicker as Dustin snatches the steaming bowl from Archie’s outstretched hand and walks away, grumbling under his breath. Archie turns and spies me standing before him. He gives me a once-over before reaching underneath the table that holds his stew pot and grabbing another bowl for me. 

“So you’re the silver-eyed fire girl, eh?” He ladles two heaping servings into my bowl and hands it to me. “Pleasure to meet you. The names Archibald but the only person allowed to call me that is my mother. You can call me Archie.”

“Nice to meet you, Archie. I’m Aruna.”

“Oh, I know who you are, miss. It’s nice to have a pretty face in camp, finally. Anything to distract me from their ugly mugs.” He hikes a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the guards behind him. They let out a chorus of complaints before Archie twists and shoots a knee-wobbling stare in their direction. They shush instantly. 

The bowl in my hands borderlines on scalding, but I ignore it and inhale the delicious, savory smell of the chowder. Chunks of vegetables and some sort of meat bob at the surface. I blow on the surface to cool it slightly and take a small sip, not wanting to burn my tongue. The salty liquid dances over my tongue as I gulp it down, warming my insides more than the bonfire ever could.

“What do you think of my cookin’?” asks Archie, a curious look on his face.

I’m not lying in the slightest when I open my mouth and say, “I think this is the best stew I’ve had in a very, very long time.”

He beams at my comment. “Hear that, fellas? Remember that the next time any of you decide to run your mouth about my cookin’ again.”

I feel my lips pull into a small smile. “How long have you been a chef?”

He thumps a hand against his belly. “Almost 25 years now. I started chopping vegetables with my mother when I was just a wee boy and haven’t stopped since. It’s been my life’s passion, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I nod my head at his words before taking another sip of stew. 

He eyes me up again. “How was your first day of travelin’? Your joints aren’t too achy yet, are they?”

My bowl is almost drained, and I chew a mouthful of vegetables before answering. “I imagine I’ll be sore tomorrow. My body isn’t used to this much movement, yet.”

He bobs his head in understanding. “If the pain is too much for ya to handle, find me before we head off. I have a salve that should help with the aches.” 

“Thank you, I will.” I set the bowl down on the table, now empty. “And thank you for the stew. It was delicious.”

“Sure you’ve had enough? I think there’s enough in the bottom for one more bowl.”

“Oh sure, you give her seconds, but if any of us dare to ask you, we’re left without breakfast the next day,” one of the guards calls from behind me.

“Quit yer yappin’. When you start lookin’ as pretty as her with those silver eyes, I’ll start offerin’ you seconds. Until then, be happy you get firsts.” He shoots me a wink and a sly smile. “Go on now, miss. I’m sure you’re ready to hit the sack.”

He has no idea. My eyelids droop again. I’m about to bid Archie goodnight and walk over to my tent when he calls out to me.

“Miss?”

“Yes?” I say, turning back to him.

A lethal look glints in his eyes. “I hope whoever gave you that bruise got what he deserved and that you were the hand to deliver it.”

Any slight amusement I felt drops from my face as I reach up and brush the bruise on my throat, wincing slightly. I can feel a strong gaze burning a hole into the back of my head, but I refuse to turn and acknowledge it.

“Goodnight, Archie.”

Embarrassment flames my cheeks as I turn and walk into my tent. A pile of furs lays in the center of the small space, and I drop into them, pulling them tight around my body to ward off any of the night’s chill. My head has barely settled on the pillow before I slip into a dreamless sleep.