TWO

 

"The horses have been saddled and packed for an hour or more. Should we not leave?" Julia asked, gazing from William to Thibault and back again.

"We should have been in Elst yesterday, instead of passing the night in some common inn," William said, glaring at Thibault.

Thibault's gaze did not waver from the fighting pit. He flapped a hand vaguely in their direction. "One more round. I have placed a large wager on this bird, and I am certain he shall be victorious."

William seized his arm. "We need to go now, Thibault, before the floodwaters rise any further. If the bridge is washed out, it could be weeks until we reach Veluwe!"

"All the more reason to focus on the cockfight, then, if we are to stay a little longer. The better I know the birds, the more I can win when I bet upon the winner!"

The more he would lose, more like, Julia thought but did not say, for she'd learned quickly that Thibault was quick to anger, and not above cuffing her. Oh, William would chide him and Thibault would shrug it off, saying it was nothing, while Julia was too busy rubbing her jaw or trying to quiet the ringing in her head to argue.

It didn't help that she was dressed like a pageboy, so none of the Count of Gelderland's men would know a prize like the future Lady of Veluwe rode among them, with only two men to guard her. Well, William was a man, though she suspected Thibault was more of a beast. He reminded her of the mean alley cat back home, howling and yowling all night, and attacking any creature that approached him, in between rutting with any female cat he could find.

She'd heard one of the maids calling him the Prince of Cats – the alley cat, not Thibault – for he must be royalty, to lie with so many queens. The other maids had giggled, and a prince the cat had become, though he had but one ear, one eye and no crown.

"William," Julia began.

He hushed her. "You go on ahead, cross the bridge to Elst. Make your way to Saint Martin's Church, and wait for us there. If we have not arrived by dark, tell the priest your true identity, and ask for lodgings for the night. I will make him come."

If only Thibault were not such a large man, much bigger than William by far, she might have believed him. As it was, she knew William would likely have to use the weight of his words to get Thibault to move. And words were something Thibault rarely listened to, unless they came out of his own mouth.

But if she made it to Elst, she wouldn't have to pretend to be a page any more. She wouldn't need to bind her breasts or wear hose that chafed around her hips when she rode. Or fetch food and drink for William and Thibault, like she really was their servant.

"Fine," she said, and marched off. Her palfrey – and it was hers, for the mare did not permit Thibault or William to touch her, let alone sit atop her back – shivered as Julia mounted, as though the horse was just as eager to reach their destination as Julia herself. Julia only had to touch her knees to the mare's flanks and she was off and running.

The inn was soon far behind them, and the river loomed larger. Why, the waters were swirling around the bridge supports, the waves licking hungrily at the bridge itself. She urged her horse to move faster.

Only at the last moment, the palfrey balked at the bridge, prancing about on the river bank as though she'd seen a snake. Julia swore and slid down, wrapping the reins around her hand so that she might walk the frightened creature across the bridge.

Unless the horse was right, and the bridge was more dangerous than staying on the bank...

Julia bit her lip, tasting blood, then sent her magic into the swirling waters, questing, asking. She'd heard that the other elements – fire, earth, air – were not as capricious, and could be commanded. But commanding water was like trying to stop it from flowing through your fingers. You could not force it – only ask.

Today, she asked if the river meant to sweep the bridge away, or if it would hold.

Water never answered in words, but the response was still clear, as the waves calmed, showing her the layers of moss the bridge had collected beneath it over the centuries, proof that it had withstood many floods, and likely would still stand for many more.

Julia inclined her head in thanks, and stepped onto the stones, following the high arch to its peak, before running down the other side, the palfrey's hooves clattering after her.

Until she found her way barred by a naked sword.

"Halt!"