Chapter 35

Lady Amarynn?”

Amarynn glared at the young servant boy. She was cleaning up after several early hours in the practice yard, and she was tired, hungry, and in no mood to be called “Lady.”

The boy waited, not sure what to do. Three other boys stood behind them — all carrying wooden boxes of different sizes.

“Are these for me?” she asked him impatiently.

“Ye-yes...” he stammered.

“Well, don’t just stand there!”

She stepped back and opened the door. The boys rushed in and set the boxes on the table near the hearth, then quickly left, eyes averted. As the last one exited, he handed her a note.

Amarynn walked to the table and eyed the boxes. There were four of them — ornate, with beautiful silver latches. She opened the largest one and stared.

Nestled on a bed of burgundy velvet was a short sword. While her fingers trailed along the blade, admiring its beauty, she lifted the letter.

I’m sorry your weapons were lost when the mountain fell.

I hope these will be acceptable replacements. -J

Amarynn set the letter down, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She opened the others. Two long, slender boxes each held daggers, and the larger square box contained three simple but deadly throwing knives. They were beautiful and well-made. But one was missing.

“I couldn’t find a big enough box for this beast.”

Amarynn turned at the sound of Jael’s voice. He was standing in the open doorway, holding her broadsword.

“Frost!” she exclaimed. Jael came toward her and placed it reverently in her hands. She looked at him questioningly. “How did you get this? I left it in the tower room.”

“Regealth found it, actually,” he said. “When I was smuggling him out of the keep.”

She looked up at him, her eyes shining brighter than ever.

“I can’t have a weaponless personal guard, can I?”

“I also lost my sword belt and scabbards,” she murmured.

“Go see the swordsmith,” he said. “They’ve already got all of them started, but they needed your measurements.” He held up his hands. “My estimations weren’t good enough for Selwyn.”

She turned back to Jael. “Thank you.”

He smiled and winked, and she cursed herself for almost getting sucked into his charm. She took a purposeful step back and turned to the blades as a plausible distraction.

Jael followed her, and she felt him move closer. He leaned in and placed a small kiss at her temple, his hand on the small of her back.

“Go get your sword belt, Lady Protector,” he whispered.

She whirled around, giving him a half-serious glare, and he laughed, stepping back.

“A group of Vhaleesian dignitaries are arriving this afternoon, and we are all required to attend their welcome. It will be your debut as my guard.” He turned and walked to the door. Before he closed it behind him, he grinned and added, “And wear something pretty, my Lady!”

He laughed and slammed the door shut as a throwing knife landed on the door frame, just where his head had been.

Amarynn wandered through the hallways, stopping in the kitchens to grab a piece of bread and crumbly cheese on her way to the swordsmith. The whole palace buzzed with excitement and activity. She overheard some of the kitchen staff chattering about who might be arriving.

“I heard it was the Queen’s sister,” Magga, the head cook, said to one of the kitchen girls. “Maybe she’ll bring that handsome son of hers!”

The girl giggled as she picked up a tray.

“Maybe the Prince will finally get a match,” she said. “He’s so handsome! I can’t believe he’s not married yet! The Queen must be beside herself!”

Amarynn bristled at the girl’s comment. She shoved past her and out the door into the stable yard, her talk about Jael striking a nerve. She smirked. If she only knew Jael’s future was already decided by him, the King and Queen’s wishes be damned.

As she stopped and leaned back on the fence, their last, brief kiss replayed in her mind. The way he held her, the conviction in his voice and his eyes. His attention was almost enough to make her believe he would find a way to make things work for them. For the first time in the twenty years of her life in this world, she couldn’t deny that she felt a glimmer of hope for her future whenever Jael was with her. She felt like there was a future.

Maybe Jael was right — perhaps they could be something more. She snorted to herself. She could just imagine the court’s reaction to their Queen lopping off someone’s leg on the battlefield.

If Jael was a mage and the future King of Karth, she could try to believe there might be the possibility. It wasn’t completely implausible. Queen Feramin’s mother had been a Vhaleesian warrior, so there was a precedent — and after everything she’d been through, didn’t she owe it to herself to try? But with so much uncertainty on the horizon, with the Gate Stone and Sia still unaccounted for, Amarynn doubted there would even be time to think about matters of the heart.

She pushed off the fence and crossed the yard, stopping by Dax’s stall on her way through to the smithy. He was lazily chewing on a mouthful of oats when she ducked into his stall.

“Forget the Prince. You are the truly handsome one, aren’t you?” she scratched beneath his long forelock. “Maybe I should marry you, hmm?”

The war horse blew out and shook his head. Amarynn laughed, “No?”

She patted his neck and held out a handful of sugar lumps she had stolen from the kitchen. His soft nose tickled her hand as he took them from her. Amarynn leaned on him for a moment, savoring the comforting smell of her horse and the fresh hay. She ran her hands over his shoulder, feeling his strong muscles while he craned his neck around to nuzzle her pockets, looking for more sugar.

“Stop it, you child!” she laughed, pushing him away. “I’ll be back later, and we’ll go for a run, yes?” She gave him one last pat on his neck and then left the stables to collect her belt and scabbards.

The swordsmith’s shop was dark, illuminated only by a tiny window and the fiery glow of the forge. Two men stood around the anvil in deep discussion. The smith’s back was to Amarynn, but the other man looked up at her as she walked through the door.

He was dark: dark hair, dark clothes, and he looked familiar. She couldn’t place him at first, but then she realized who he was. Aron, the brooding Traveler who came with Bent for her in the Northern Reaches.

“Amarynn,” he said.

“Aron,” she inclined her head in greeting.

“I hear you’re to head up Lord Jael’s personal guard.” He was standing in front of her now. She had not realized how tall he was. “Good luck with that.” He chuckled under his breath before turning and walking out of the shop.

She watched him leave. As he stepped out the door, he hesitated for just a moment. Amarynn waited for him to turn, but he continued, disappearing into the busy throng of people. Her eyes lingered on the empty doorway, but then she turned and waved at the smith, who offered his hand in greeting.

“Amarynn,” he smiled. He reached across his worktable and retrieved the most beautiful belt she had ever seen. The work was simple but elegant in its design.

“The Prince said to spare no expense but that it shouldn’t look delicate,” he said.

Amarynn chuckled as he handed her the belt. She started to buckle it around her waist but stopped. “Didn’t you need to take measurements?”

“No, Lady,” the smith said. “My father made your first belt, and I crafted your new blades myself. He kept records of everything he made, so it should fit you like your last one.”

She thanked him and buckled the belt first, then the thigh scabbard. They were exquisite. The smith disappeared for a moment, then returned with one more item.

“For Frost,” he said, handing her a cross-body strap with a beautifully tooled leather scabbard down the back. “My father made that broadsword, too. One of the best he ever forged, may the Goddess hold him close.”

“Thank you, Master––” Amarynn looked at him questioningly.

“Selwyn, my Lady.”

She clasped his hand. “Thank you, Master Selwyn. I’m sure the Goddess has him closer than most, as talented as he was.” She took Frost’s scabbard and returned to her rooms in the palace as quickly as she could. She was eager to feel the weight of her weapons again.

But when she arrived at her room, the door was ajar, and Audra was there, laying out clothing on the bed.

“Oh! La––” she stopped, then puckered her mouth, grimacing. “Amarynn, I mean. Hurry now!” She ushered Amarynn into the room. “We need to dress you, and quickly! The entourage from Vhaleese has arrived, and King Lasten will be receiving them shortly!”

A new pair of black leather breeches and an embroidered linen blouse were laid out next to a fine-fitted jacket and boots. The ensemble was a bit much for her tastes, but she was relieved to see it wasn’t a dress.

Audra insisted she bathe; then, her handmaid attempted to make sense of her hair after she dressed.

“It’s so short!” she cried in frustration. “What am I supposed to do with this?” She finally settled on two close braids on either side of her head, pulled behind her ears. She wrapped the ends in burgundy and dark blue leather to honor Karth’s colors.

“It’s fine, Audra,” Amarynn consoled. She slid her new blades into their scabbards. When she was ready, she went to her door and paused, unsure where to go.

“It is customary for a monarch’s guard to escort them from their private chambers.” Jael was striding down the hall, a smile on his face.

“It is also customary for the monarch’s guard to know where the monarch’s private chambers are located,” Amarynn retorted.

Jael laughed, “Fair enough!”

He was beside her, one hand touching the braids in her hair. The formal jacket he wore made his shoulders seem wider. He was washed and shaved, the scent of spice stronger than usual. He leaned in, placing his lips at her temple, and this time, she didn’t pull away but accepted the kiss. She stepped back, arching her eyebrow at the jewel-encrusted sword belted at his waist.

“Strictly ceremonial,” he explained. “Not to be used for fear of losing a sapphire.” He gestured to the hallway. “Shall we?”

“Should I walk in front of you or behind you?” Amarynn asked.

He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “You know, I have no idea!”

“I’ll stay just behind you,” Amarynn said. “But we’d better hurry, or Audra will drag us both by our ears.” She grinned, and they started down the corridor.

They stopped at the doors to the throne room and realized they were the last to arrive. King Lasten and Queen Feramin were already seated. A gaggle of royal relatives milled about, and Regealth sat in a chair near the dais, two apprentices standing just behind him.

Jael turned to Amarynn and whispered, “Follow me. When I go to stand by my father, wait till he acknowledges you. Then you will take your place by Regealth.” He gave her a quick wink.

Amarynn pulled on the bottom of her jacket to straighten it, then placed her left hand on the sword at her belt. Jael squared his shoulders and walked forward to the dais. He stopped, gave his father a short bow, then bounded up the two short steps to give his mother a quick kiss on the cheek before moving to stand behind the King.

Amarynn stood motionless in front of King Lasten. He sent her to the dungeons the last time they faced one another. She looked uneasily towards Queen Feramin, who held her gaze for a moment, then lifted her chin as if to lend Amarynn courage. She was a strong and beautiful woman in the way that only warriors could be. Amarynn, bolstered by the Queen, looked back to the King.

He eyed her warily as if he was questioning his decision to offer her pardon. Finally, he spoke.

“Amarynn of the Legion of Karth, we hear you have been quite busy,” he began. She kept her chin up and her face stoic. “For escaping my dungeon, we should have your head, though I hear you were given some unprecedented assistance.” He cast a sidelong glance at Jael, who tried to hide his amusement.

“For taking it upon yourself to try and infiltrate the Darklands Keep and rescue our most precious mage, you may keep your head. And for seeing to it that our only son and the Crown Prince of Karth made it out of Athtull Keep alive; we acknowledge your loyalty.”

The King dismissed her with a wave. With an indiscernible sigh of relief, she took her place beside Regealth.

All eyes now turned to the double doors, where a group of Vhaleesians gathered. A man and woman stepped forward first. They were tall, like the Queen, and both wore the long, dark hair typical to the Vhaleesian people.

Behind them was a young woman. Her willowy form was taut with lean muscle, and her light-colored hair was done up in hundreds of tiny braids, all gathered at the nape of her neck in a knot. She wore an ornately-decorated longbow slung across her shoulders like the forest hunters of Vhaleese.

King Lasten and Queen Feramin stood as they approached.

“Welcome, Lord Haryk and Lady Nephinae,” the King said.

Queen Feramin stepped down to embrace the Lady Nephinae.

“We hope you traveled well, cousin,” she said warmly.

The Queen and Lady Nephinae stepped back as Lord Haryk beckoned for the young lady behind them to approach. He took her hand and escorted her to the steps of the dais.

“May I present my daughter, Caeda.”

Amarynn studied Lord Haryk’s face. He appeared to be bursting with pride as King Lasten gestured for Jael to join him at his side. His daughter seemed entirely disinterested.

Something was wrong. Amarynn tensed, and her hand went to her sword.

As Jael stepped forward, the King reached for Caeda’s hand.

“My son, may I present Caeda, your newly betrothed and the future Queen of Karth!”

The wind was howling through the mountain pass when a pack of riders reached its narrow passage. The small group did not stop; instead, they pushed on until the trail leveled off on a flat glacial plain of blinding snow and ice.

Seated atop the lead mount, the mage Venalise scanned the horizon.

“Mistress,” a small voice called from a bundle of blankets in front of her. “I-I’m so cold!”

“Hush, child,” she chided the bundle in her lap. “We’ll be by the fire come nightfall.”

A small face peeked out from the blankets. “Couldn’t I just make a fire right here?”

Venalise pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and stared down at the girl. “Sia, dear, you’d burn yourself out fighting the wind up here.” Venalise looked up at the grey, sunless sky, then back at the girl. She raised her eyes to scan ahead toward a low rise in the distance.

“Settle in, child. We are in the Suhonne lands now. In a few hours, we will reach their stronghold. In the meantime, I’d say you could try to warm yourself by calling your fire, but we both remember what happened last time.”

Sia frowned. She was learning to call her magic but being able to differentiate between the elements was still proving problematic. The last time she tried to call her fire, she gave three of their men frostbite. Venalise was only helpful with the earth energy of stone and metal, making the child’s instruction all the more difficult.

A piercing scream echoed off the mountains, and she shielded her eyes against the light that reflected off the snow-covered rocks. Atranoch glided high above them, banking and circling in and out of the lesser peaks. The creatures had been following them at a distance ever since she and her entourage left the ruin of Athtull Keep. Venalise narrowed her eyes for better focus, noticing that the big one, their leader, was still absent from the weyr.

Her eyes left the sky to survey the snowy plain ahead. Any minute, she expected to see riders appear. In fact, she was counting on it. The Suhonne was one of the seven houses of the Stone Reaches, and as the southernmost, the proud horsemen patrolled and protected the mountain border. The House of Suhonne had singlehandedly kept each of the seven great families secret from the rest of the world for hundreds of years.

Sia groaned and pushed herself as low as she could in the saddle. Thera squirmed beneath the blankets until Sia allowed her to poke her head out through the top. Venalise shook her head and urged her horse forward, signaling the others to follow. Together, the small band stepped out onto the snowy expanse and continued their journey north.

A few hours later, just as the horses began to slow, a smudge appeared in dusk’s orange and red glow. The smudge grew larger until Venalise could make out a contingency of Suhonne riders, approximately fifteen in number, approaching from the north. Within twenty minutes, the two bands of riders met.

The leader of the Suhonne walked her horse forward after the others stopped some distance from Venalise and her men. She was small in the saddle, but her stature commanded attention and respect. She eyed Venalise for a long time before speaking.

“You are not from the Below,” she said in the Eorath dialect.

“No,” Venalise said, lifting her chin. “I am of Stone.”

The woman raised her eyebrows at Venalise’s use of the common tongue of the Stone Reaches.

“House?” the horsewoman asked, still skeptical.

“Korr,” Venalise said, her tone curt and commanding.

The leader scoffed, unbelieving.

“You wear too many blankets to be Korr,” she huffed, still speaking Eorath.

“I have been Below for a long, long time.”

“Tell me your name, would-be Korr,” the leader squinted in the dusk.

“Tell me yours,” Venalise countered, lifting her chin imperiously.

“I am T’Suhonne Sashtra, second to T’Suhonne Vash. I lead this patrol.”

Venalise dropped the blankets from her shoulders and sat tall in her saddle. She eyed the woman named Sashtra, then scanned the faces of the others behind her.

“I am T’Korr Vena,” she said in Ceadari, the high tongue of the Stone Reaches, her voice strong and clear. She waited a moment to allow her name to register. “I have returned from many years in the Below. I bring important news for my mother, Empress, T’Korr Uhll.”

One by one, the horsemen bowed their heads and pressed their fists to their foreheads. Finally, the patrol leader did as well.

Venalise smiled to herself. The wind whipped her cloak, flecks of ice collecting like a crown on her hair.

After all these years, she was going home.