Category: Young Adult

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3-Notorious

It had not been easy to hack to head from the monster, but we managed. Only broke two knives in the process. It took long enough that our shirts dried and our nymph stripes, which bloomed blue across our bodies when in water, had faded enough for us to return without giving away our mixed heritage. I’d taken a few teeth from the beast, rinsed them off, and tucked them in a pocket as a memento.

We’d looped rope through the jaws and carried the head between us the long walk back to the main barns. It dripped and was disgusting. But the way the foreman recoiled and gaped was rewarding in its own way. He paid us what he promised and sent some of his hands to go fetch the rest of the carcass while we collected our horses and set off again.

Once we were a few miles down the road, Ayglos grinned at me and patted his saddlebag, “See, Zare? Easy money.”

I snorted. “You’re kidding, right? I nearly died of boredom out there.”

My brother laughed, the sun glinting in his short pale hair. It had been brown, once upon a time, but he bleached the color away. I preferred the brown, myself, but couldn’t deny that the white hair and tan skin were striking. Sometimes people asked him if he was Iltaran—his coloring now so like the nomads who lived where the snows never melted.

“I offered to have Rabanki sit with you.” On cue, the large black bird swooped down from trees lining the road and alighted on Ayglos’ shoulder.

I shook my head, leaning forward to stroke Hook’s neck. “No, thank you.”

Rabanki cocked a bright eye at me critically. Ravens were exceptional birds, so intelligent that they could learn languages, and some could speak with the tongues of men. They tended to be very loyal to their friends, and they loved—loved—anything that glittered. Rabanki had chosen Ayglos as a friend. He’d also taken particular interest in anything of mine that glittered.

My fingers strayed to the fine gold chain around my neck, confirming that the gold pendant hidden under my shirt was, in fact, still there. I continued, “If Rabanki sat with me I would have been robbed blind before that monster showed up.”

The raven tossed his head back and cawed a brassy laugh. The little hoarder.

“Then I would have had to fight the monster with just my bare hands—and that wouldn’t have been fair to the poor monster.”

“Point.” Ayglos laughed again, scratching Rabanki under his chin. After a moment Ayglos said, “I think we’ve earned a night in a proper inn, don’t you?”

“I think so,” my lips tipped up in a smile. A real bed sounded delightful. “Do you think we could find one with plumbing?”

It was Ayglos’ turn to snort. “Don’t get too carried away. This is Wimshell. They barely bother with buildings.”

It was only a slight exaggeration. Wimshell was just a few centuries removed from being nomadic. There weren’t many towns, and only the wealthiest had yet built anything as complex as indoor plumbing.  The sun was riding low in the sky as we rode through the wood stockade of Tanglewood Springs and lost ourselves in the dusty streets that wound between the three and four story wood buildings. There were plenty of people out at the end of the day, horse or oxen drawn wagons, women in long skirts carrying baskets, men in hats carrying bundles.

“Can we go to the inn the outfitter told you about?”

Ayglos groaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you about the Lake House. That’s probably the most expensive inn here.”

“So? It’s not like we stay in inns very often.” I tossed him grin.

“You want to spend everything all at once?”

“Yes, definitely.”

My brother rolled his eyes. “Insatiable taste for luxury.”

“It can be sated. With a big dinner and a big bath, a big bed,” I lifted my hands and ticked items on my fingers, reins dangling, “And a nice room with a big fireplace—”

Ayglos threw up his hands, Rood snorted. “How about we get all those things at the second-best inn?”

“I’ll take it.”

“And then tomorrow we need to find some new knives.”

“You have excellent ideas.”

*

When hiding nymph heritage, bathing in privacy was a high priority. As it turned out, there were only two inns with suitable bathing rooms in Tanglewood Springs, the Lake House and Prosperous Hall. They were the two finest and most expensive inns the little city had to offer. Far more expensive than they should have been, in my opinion. Yet, we were determined, so we booked at the slightly less expensive Prosperous Hall, under the name Fatty Bowbender. Ayglos had winked at the girl at the counter, his smile dazzling, “Boys in the company have a sense of humor. My real name is Heroic.” She’d blushed, laughed, and taken our money without asking which mercenary company we belonged to. Our suite had four rooms and two private baths—one of which was scandalously enormous. Servants had hand pumped the water from a mechanism in the room. It was definitely more convenient than hauling buckets, though rather less impressive than the plumbing in our grandfather’s palace under Daiesen Bay. But dinner had been excellent, and I couldn’t even begin to express how wonderful it was to have a lazy hot bath and be clean and in clean clothes. I had pulled out my one silk shirt and a clean set of supple breeches before sending an entire saddlebag of dirty laundry with the servants for cleaning. I even took some time to preen in front of the mirror while my stripes faded.

We spent the evening in the large parlor on the main floor. Ayglos played cards with a group of fancy merchants from the south while I sat by the fire with a book hiding most of my face while my knives glinted brazenly in the firelight. Ayglos plied the men with stories—most of them true—about our exploits. Even without knowing my true name, a female mercenary was rare and exciting. Especially if she were pretty, which I was. The other patrons were distracted enough by my presence that Ayglos won more hands than he should have, and we retired to our suite a hundred silver richer.

When we unlocked the door to our suite, a worn, folded piece of paper lay on the floor just inside. I bent and picked it up, flicking it open as I walked into the sitting area. The paper bore a sketch of a girl with dark eyes, a medium nose, lips that curved slightly up, and mane of dark curls. My face. Though, I was a few years older now. Beneath the sketch, printed in big, ugly letters, were the words: “WANTED; Dead or Alive, for Treason against the Empire, 5,000g.” I whistled, “That reward is madly huge. You could build a villa with that kind of money.” It was a much larger number than the first time I’d seen one of these three years ago. Instincts finally alarming, my head snapped up and I scanned the room. I didn’t see anyone or feel any eyes on me, but I loosened a dagger anyway.

Ayglos took the paper from my fingers and grunted critically before handing it back to me. “Still the same picture,” he said. I tossed him a sharp glance as he headed toward his bedchamber, waving a lazy hand at the notice in my hand. “So dramatic. I saw Curry’s Catch last time I was in town, it’s down by the lake shore. Though, I had thought he was on the far side of the world or some such.”

“What are you…” I cut myself off and looked at the notice again. Beneath the print, in handwriting I knew almost as well as my own, it read: “You look good notorious. Breakfast tomorrow, Curry’s Catch, eight.”

*

Special thank you to my Patrons, I am so grateful for your support! Thanks for coming on this journey with me.

Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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2-Teeth

The river was clear where it closed over my head, but just a few feet away the cloud of silt roiled through the water. Dark shapes thrashed in the cloud but judging by the amount of red tainting the river, the cow didn’t have long. I swam toward the fray, my efforts hampered by the current. I reached out to the river, just make room for me, I coaxed, that’s all.

It ignored me.

Fine, then.

Even without help, a few powerful strokes pushed me into the cloud of silt and immediately a long hard shape slammed into me. I tumbled, my free hand scraping against scales. I grabbed ahold of a ridge of spikes and found myself whipped through the water. I bumped over the now limp form of the cow and then slammed into another coil of scaled muscle. Large savage claws were in the bleeding flank of the cow. Eloi, what was this thing?  I hoped it had an obvious head. I let go of the coil and grabbed the claws, thrusting my long knife at the creature’s wrist. The impact jarred through my arm as the knife barely pierced beneath the scales. The claws yanked from the cow, nearly tearing the knife from my grip.

With a swoosh of current I came face to face with the jagged teeth and wide fish eyes of the head. For one heartbeat my whole soul was overcome with conviction that in front of the teeth was the one place I did not want to be. I dove toward the creature, closing the distance between us and striking out with the knife. The monster slipped to the side, easily dodging my blow. I swept past it, turning to attack it from behind. A coil slammed into my back, forcing me down until I hit the river bottom. My ribs protested. For a few seconds I struggled to push off the coil, stirring up silt in blinding clouds. The rocky bottom offered tantalizing leverage, but I couldn’t get my legs under me to push upwards.

Even with those teeth and claws, I realized this creature preferred drowning its prey. A wry smile touched my lips; we could be here a while. I willed my body to relax. My hands floated up from the coil, limp and moving gently in the river’s current. I could see shadows moving around me in the murky water. The legs of the cow rolled by in a sickening motion before vanishing again. I waited, listening to the water and the beat of my heart. The silt had nearly settled, outlining the long body of the beast moving gently through the water, by the time the hideous head again turned toward me.

Stay still. Stay relaxed, I reminded myself. I hoped it wasn’t smart enough to know the knife I still held wasn’t a part of my anatomy.

The creature nosed my body, moving from my legs toward my head. The urge to strike burned inside me, stoked by every proprietary touch from the monster’s snout. The monster shifted its coil, loosening so it could get better access to my torso. The jaws opened, its teeth tearing at my shirt. I struck. Blood stained the river as I drove my knife into the monster’s eye. The beast jerked back, wrenching the knife from my hand. I let it, putting both hands on the coil and writhing free.

Bubbles exploded everywhere as another body hit the water. Loops of long, scaled body flailed, knocking me back and then going rigid. I caught the river bottom with one hand and pulled another knife with the other. Shudders ran through the scaled body, I saw a clawed foot flex and pull at the riverbed. Swimming through the silty water, I angled the knife carefully ahead of me. The monster’s head appeared in the glittering silt, my knife sticking from its eye still, its jaws slack. Behind it, shadows took form into the familiar shoulders and bleached head of Ayglos. His hands were still wrapped around his own knife hilt where it protruded from the base of the monster’s skull, leeching blood into the water.

Our eyes met, and Ayglos asked, “Are you alright?” using the language of clicks and whines nymphs used under the sea.

“Splendid,” I replied in the same language. I sheathed my knife and caught hold of the monster’s jaw, helping Ayglos tow it to the shore.

The cows were long gone when we broke the surface of the water and hauled the heavy carcass up behind us. It was thirty feet long when we finally got the whole thing out of the water. We stood back, hands on our hips and regarded our catch. Covered in muddy green scales, the back third was nearly flat for powering through the water, four short legs with webbed feet and savage claws in the middle third, a long flat neck crowned with glassy eyes and massive toothy jaws…

“It looks like an eel with legs,” I said.

“Crossed with that…dinrodile monster from Haim.” Ayglos gestured to the head. “Teeth of a dinrodile.”

“What’s it doing up here?”

My brother shrugged. It was a good question, but the answer wasn’t our business. Unless someone wanted to pay us to find out. “The real question is, will Hook and Rood be willing to haul it?”

I wrinkled my nose. Our horses were all the way back at the main barns for the cattle operation, since we hadn’t wanted to risk them getting eaten by whatever took the cows. I didn’t want to walk back for them and didn’t think we could whistle loudly enough to summon them. My lips twisted as I pictured them, ears askance and eyes wide, should they arrive and see the monster. “Let’s just take the head.”

*

Special thank you to my Patrons, I am so grateful for your support! Thanks for coming on this journey with me.

Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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1-Monsters in the Water

I had spent three days perched in a gnarly oak tree watching for monsters, and I was bored. My branch extended over a little river, commanding clear view of the river and the fields on either side—not that there was anything to see. Cattle lazed peacefully in tall green grass to my left. Plowed earth filled the world to my right. Behind me, if I looked, I would see the distant blue ridge of the Phas Mountains. A pretty view. The river in front of me was wide and lazy and had many places where the banks dipped low, and many other places you could swim in deep, clear pools.

Quiet.

Good fishing.

And no monsters in sight.

I chewed on a stalk of grass, absently watching the tip toss. The thing about hunting was that you couldn’t bring a book.

Spring was bleeding into summer and the days were warm enough that I’d ditched my leather jerkin on the first day out here. The breeze obligingly licked through the linen shirt I wore under my harness of knives, soothing the burn of the late afternoon sun.

A three-note whistle came from upriver. My brother, Ayglos, checking in on his younger sister. I removed the grass long enough to repeat the three-note whistle back.

My brother had gotten us this monster hunting job. We were fresh off a job tracking down a bounty—a murderer we’d caught up with just a few days ride from here. Ayglos had gone into Tanglewood Springs for supplies while I took a nap in a puddle of sunshine. Of the two of us, he was less notable, so he did most of the errands when we were riding together.

At the outfitter, he’d struck up a conversation with a Master Hadrake’s foreman. Turns out, Master Hadrake’s cattle were disappearing, and his herdsmen swore up and down that a scaled beast with hideous claws had risen from the river to claim the cows. It had gotten so bad most of the herdsmen refused to come anywhere near the river and the foreman was hitting up all the taverns and outfitters in Wimshell looking for new herdsmen. Ayglos had offered a different service. “Can’t pass up an ‘easy job,’” I muttered, biting down on the grass. Any chance to earn good money. It’s not like we had anywhere else to be for a few months. It was only a small comfort that Ayglos was sitting in a tree at another major watering spot. Just as bored as I was.

If I hadn’t seen massive clawed, webbed, tracks, in the soft river bank I would have assumed Master Hadrake was being robbed. I’d never heard of a river monster this far north. Though, despite being half-nymph, we’d spent rather less time hunting water monsters than one might suppose.

After three days of sitting in a tree by the herd’s favorite watering spot with nothing but insects and my thoughts for company, I was returning to the cattle rustler theory. We had tried to question the river itself when we first arrived, but it had been vague and uncooperative. Maybe the river thought we were crazy.

My stalk of grass snapped, and I nearly fell off the branch as I lunged to snatch it before it fell out of reach.

An uncertain moo sounded below. I looked down to see a cow craning her head to look at me, her large brown eyes set in a wide piebald face, ears flicking attentively. The whole herd was behind her, having picked their way over to the river while I’d been engrossed in my thoughts.

“It’s alright,” I told the cow, “I’m not the monster.” I waved vaguely at the river.

Her ears flicked. Unconvinced.

“I’m not. Go drink, I’m sure you’re thirsty.”

Cows were such skeptical creatures. I supposed they had a right, having lost several of their compatriots to the river in the past few weeks.

I swung my legs over the side of the branch and bowed at the waist, “Word of honor, my good cow, I, Zare Caspian of Galhara, am not the one killing your sistren.”

Eloi help me. Three days alone in a tree, and I, Zare Caspian of Galhara, Daughter of Zam the Great, Ghost of Nelia, Curse of the Empire, was losing my mind.

The cow blinked at me, as if agreeing with my thoughts. Then, with a shake of her head she turned and strolled to the water. Three others followed her down the slope to the water’s edge, and two waded in to drink half submerged. More from the herd started to amble over. I watched them, grass dangling from my fingers as my mind wandered far away to another river, swift and deep, that ran beside a breathtaking stone palace.

One of the cows vanished under the water with a bovine shriek. I cursed. Water churned, the black hooves of the cow breaking the surface in a desperate kick before a scaled ridge arched over them and both disappeared in a cloud of silt…and then blood…bellowing filled the air as the other cows fled. Leaping to my feet I drew a long knife and barely remembered to whistle for Ayglos before diving into the river.

Special thank you to my Patrons, I am so grateful for your support! Thanks for coming on this journey with me.

Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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Title Reveal

It’s all fun and games until someone is stuck wearing hoop skirts and playing bait for an assassin. 

#mondayswithzare

I’m so excited you guys! Next Monday is the official release of the First Episode of The Hoopskirt Job. Can you believe it? You’re all like, “Yeah, we’ve been waiting for three months.” Yeah, yeah,  know. But if you rush a miracle you get a rotten miracle (Miracle Max was so wise).

Many thanks to my patrons, who’ve supported me as I wrote and brainstormed like a really stormy storm mage.

See you Monday!

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Launch Date

Hey everyone!

I have wonderful news, we have a launch date for the new Zare adventure! The story will resume February 4th, stay tuned for the release of the story name and the world map. Oh! And now we have a page devoted to keeping track of places and characters in the story, in case you get lost or turned about at any point. Thanks to keyboard short cuts it’s super easy to find who you are looking for.

If you want to be in the know and get things a bit early, check out Zare’s Patreon page where you can become part of the adventure.

Thank you so much Patrons for your continued support while the story has been in development!

I’m so grateful to have you all on this adventure with me.

 

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Legendary Art

Took a break to paint!

Typically, I have The Badlands Job, The River Rebellion, and the new story open all at the same time so I can work on them concurrently. There are so many moving parts, I’m so looking forward to launching this in the new year.

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In the works…

Hey Everyone!

I’m so excited to say that I’ve officially put words down in the next adventure! I’ve also got a couple other projects underway–a character list and a map.

I love maps, but they are not easy! You might not believe this but I have, actually, had a map this whole time which I’ve been referencing. But, I’ve never scanned it and frankly it’s huge. But the time has come to bring it to the digital world so you can see what I’m seeing. This also entails some work to make it pretty.

Stay tuned!

**Also, check out this totally cool Zare hoodie, I’m sure I need one**z blue spatter hoodie

Special thanks to my Patrons, who support the rebellion.

(Get first-looks and the inside track on other behind the scenes info by becoming a Patron.)

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What’s next?

Hey everyone! Thanks so much for reading The Legend of Zare Caspian; The River Rebellion!  I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

It’s been three years, can you believe it? Three years, one hundred episodes, and nearly 130,000 words.

So, now you’re wondering what to motivate yourself with on Mondays, right? The good news is that the story is not over, not by a long shot. The bad news is that I’ll be taking a little break to edit The Badlands Job, get you closer to a book you can hold in your hands, and also to develop the next adventure a bit more before diving in with both feet.

In the meantime, follow the blog if you haven’t already, so you won’t miss when the story returns. I’ll post here occasionally, but head over to my Patreon page if you want to be a part of some cool exclusives. You can also assuage the empty space in your Monday with cool Zare-wear from Redbubble. But, most importantly, tell all your friends about your epic addiction to The Legend of Zare Caspian, because adventures are even more  fun with friends. The entire series is linked, in order, here.

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100 – The Road Ahead

At dusk, we laid the King of Dalyn to rest in an over grown walled garden beside the ruined house. The knights had slowly gathered stone rubble on their patrols throughout the day, and now we all helped raise a cairn over Tarr Kegan’s body. We had nothing to bury with him to indicate rank or honor besides the thin circlet he’d worn in the ballroom. We had no flowers. No tapestries. Not even a sword we could spare. Just broken stone. Hess watched us work from nearby, Tarryn in her arms and Naran clutching her skirt. The other four children clustered around her, watching solemnly as the cairn rose higher. I wondered if any of them had met the man assumed their sire. The man whose generosity and craftiness had backfired on them and torn them from their mothers. Would they hate him if they did understand?

Rock after misshapen rock passed from one calloused hand to another until Tarr’s form was entirely protected by the shattered pieces of Rhydderhall. Nothing but starlight and the glow from the rising moon illuminated Trinh as he climbed up our little mound and set a white piece of marble at the pinnacle. The marble was part of a carved frieze, but all that remained was a ship with three masts riding a wave. Trinh stepped back down and stood facing the cairn, his hands hanging at his sides. For a moment, I could almost see his thoughts: They swirled around him, condemning ghosts crushing him with the enormity of his defeat. It was as if he finally believed, for the first time, that his family had died six years ago and his beloved had not been seen or heard from since. He finally believed, and it would tear him apart.

Hesperide approached the cairn and sank to her knees, putting one hand on the stones. Naran, still at her side, did the same, bowing his little head. Her presence calmed the chaos radiating from Trinh with a leaden blanket of sorrow.

No one said anything.

After several long moments, Trinh put his hand on Hess’s shoulder. She looked up at him, then accepted his help up. Time to mourn was another thing we didn’t have to give Tarr.

We had miles to go tonight, to get as far as we could in different directions and fade into trade routes from different cities. Eventually, we’d all flee west. West, to bright Magadar. To lick our wounds, and to hide Tarr’s heirs. And for my brothers and me, to find our court.

Trinh led Hess back into the ruin where our carefully portioned packs and supplies waited. The rest followed one by one; knights, children, and my brothers each laying a hand on the cairn in farewell before filing back into the desolate villa. I heard one knight mutter, “May the immortal Breath bear you swiftly to Eloi in paradise.” Traditional words.

When it was only Quill and I left in the walled garden. I approached the cairn, stopping at the base and staring at it while I fingered my gold pendant with the sailing ships. How could this cold white pile of rocks contain the red tipped hair and burning blue eyes of that mad, brave, king?

I felt Quill stop beside me. The few hours we’d both been up had been busy dividing the supplies and the money from Tarr’s gifts between the four traveling groups. We’d talked just enough for me to learn that he had barely a scratch after last night’s battles, and that he and the doctor’s son were going with Hess and her children tonight. The children were divided among Trinh’s knights. The Galhirim would be entirely on our own for the first time in our lives. Strange to think we’d made it this far without experiencing that.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you we were staying to face the Huntsmen,” I said, eyes on the cairn, “I wanted to thank you for coming back for us.”

Quill nodded, “It’s what we do, come back for each other.”

I looked at him, then. The moon touched the angles of his face, and I found myself wanting to do the same as he gave me a small smile. I didn’t, but my answering smile felt like a promise. Even as I said, “You still owe me.”

He scoffed, “I don’t think the doctoring counts as many times as you think it does.” He plucked my sleeve right above my stiches. “And stop using your arm to block blades.”

My lips quirked. “I learned from the best.” I tugged his sleeve where he’d taken a sword in Gillenwater, so long ago.

His eyes sparked. Then he asked, “Which of you killed Khattmali?”

I drew a breath and let it out, “I did.”

A pause as satisfaction painted itself across every line of his face.

I continued, “She said she was the foremost of the Queen’s Huntsmen. That she had been rewarded the position in Dalyn to woo Tarr.”

“Huntsmen,” repeated Quill. “Ayglos mentioned them. Said they hunt without hounds.”

I thought of the golden woman who’d helped both Ayglos and I; who had undoubtedly been the one to keep Ayglos from being hit squarely in the spine when the Huntsmen first caught up with us. “I think they hunt,” I hesitated, “…by magic. And I don’t think we killed them all.”

Quill looked thoughtful. “I will find out more about them. Once Hess is safe.” He looked over his shoulder at the villa.

“You’re coming back?” I asked. No one had discussed coming back yet, and I feared he would say no. That he’d stay with Hess, wherever she holed up, and leave this fight for good. For me, the only road away from Dalyn curved right back to it.

Our eyes locked, the moon brightening his gaze with white fire. He was angry. I realized with some surprise that I’d never seen his anger before. Not like this. Quilleran Rhydderick was angry. Not at me, but at Narya Magnifique. Perhaps at himself, too. His voice was low, “We still have to be the ones to write the history.” To tell the real story of Tarr Kegan.

Something in me unfurled, like someone breathed on kindling at just the right moment to give life to fire, and I nodded. Then, crouching, I placed my hand on the stones. My fingers curling around a jagged edge as if I were holding Tarr’s hand. “We’re not done here,” I said half to Quill, half to the silent cairn and the man underneath. “We will be the ghosts who haunt the Nether Queen. The ones she could not catch. Could not kill. The light she could not smother.”

*

This is the end of The River Rebellion. Zare Caspian will return.

Special thanks to my Patrons, you help make the Legend possible!

EPSON MFP image

 

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99-Threads

 

Sunlight was streaming through the wall slits by the time Quill sat down in front of me at the table, the blonde woman coming to stand behind him. In the meager daylight, he looked haggard, and his dark clothes were discolored by dried blood. But his eyes were clear as he regarded me.

I was deliriously tired, but I gave him a small smile before asking, “Where are you hurt?”  The same question I’d asked each one of Trinh’s knights. I was also running low on supplies now, since most of Trinh’s men had had wounds to bandage. Nothing that wouldn’t heal. Nothing too horrific. Namal had been at my side the entire time. He’d kept the basin full of clean water and helped anytime I’d needed another hand. Even with the knights who’d needed stitches, though both of us had struggled not to retch through the entire process. I would never travel anywhere without a doctor in tow ever again.

“My soul,” Quill replied brightly, then leaned forward, “Which will heal eventually. But, my lady, it’s your turn for treatment.”

I blinked at him. Then looked down at my mauled armor and the blood long dried on my arm. I’d locked the pain behind some door and forgotten. As if it had been lying in wait for Quill’s cue, the lock shattered and my chest began to ache. My arm, which I had been using all evening, became leaden, and I too weak to lift it.  

“He’s right,” said my brother, his voice tender. “Let’s get that armor off.”

I tried to lift my arm so he could reach the buckles of the breastplate, but instead, a whine slipped out of me and my arm stayed in place on the table. Quill was on his feet immediately, gently picking up my arm and holding it out of Namal’s way. Then, when Namal had the breastplate free, Quill unbuckled the vambrace.

The blonde stepped forward, then, and got the other vambrace off. Then she growled at the two men, “Go tend the fire.”

I didn’t totally register why until she looked pointedly at my shirt. “Oh.” I swiveled toward the wall and reached with my good arm to start tugging at the hem. She helped pull the thick shirt over my head, peeling it off my arms. I whimpered as it tore from the dried blood. Even with my tolerance for cold, I shivered. The gold pendant with the sailing ships hung just below the massive purple bruise on my sternum.

The blonde inspected bruise. Her eyes flicked to mine, they were gray, I noticed, as she said, “Sorry,” and prodded the bruise.

I yelped and recoiled, slamming her hand away instinctively.

“Was that a blinding, ice pick like, stabbing pain?”

I hissed at her, covering my chest with my hand. “No. Just a sprawling, burning pain. A little warning next time.”

She pursed her lips. “Maybe cracked, definitely bruised.” Then she swirled her fingers in my pot of salve and, prying my hand away, applied the salve liberally to the bruise.

“We don’t have any more of that,” I objected through gritted teeth.

“Shush,” she ignored me and reached for a linen shirt she must’ve brought over with her. “Put this on so you don’t freeze.”

It was even worse when she cleaned the gash on my arm. She wasn’t exactly gentle, and I hissed and snapped at her. She hissed and snapped back. When she started threading a needle I leapt up from the chair, knocking it over with my haste.

The blonde rolled her eyes, “Don’t be a baby.”

“Baby?” I snapped, “You’re a butcher.”

“Sit down before you bleed out,” she retorted.

“I wouldn’t be bleeding again if you weren’t a brute.”

She spread her hands, “Do you want to die from gaping wounds?”

“I might!”

She snorted and resumed threading. Energy leached from me and I picked up the chair with my good hand and sank back into it. I felt Namal’s hands on my back as I set my arm on the table and then my forehead. I felt the prick of the needle, and then the pull of the thread through my flesh. Then the world pulled away into darkness. Later, I was vaguely aware of being set down in blankets among warm bodies.

*

Without opening my eyes, I could sense that the atmosphere in the cellar was entirely different. There were tiny voices laughing and little feet pounding around the room. Hew woofed. Above that, I could hear the murmur of men’s voices. Namal and Trinh. The cellar was filled with the smell of wood smoke and dog. I opened an eye. The princes were at the table deep in conversation. There were still several knights sleeping around me in the blanket nest. The children, however, appeared to all be awake and chasing Hew around the room.

I opened my other eye and pushed myself upright with my good arm. My muscles were stiff. The fire had died, or been put out, long ago, and the light seeping through the slits painted warm stripes along the ceiling. It must be late afternoon. Hesperide was sitting in the nest, her back against the wall, the baby nursing at her breast. She was looking at me now, a smile on her lips, though her eyes were rimmed with red and her cheeks were wet.

Without a thought, I crawled over the blankets and the legs of knight to wrap my arms around her and the baby. She freed a hand to grasp me and bury her face in my shoulder. We sat in silence, clutching each other until the baby started to wiggle in protest. I pulled away and peered at the infant. Hess sniffed and wiped her face. “Thank you for coming for us,” she said, her voice watery.

I touched the full head of dark hair on the baby. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save Tarr.” I replied, soul aching.

Hess shook her head. “You all are going to have to get over that.” Her eyes met mine, “Quill told me what you did for him, pulling him out of the ballroom. He’s the last of my family, you know. Thank you.”

Heat climbed my neck to my cheeks and I looked down. Then I said, “Have you named the baby?”

A real smiled bloomed on Hesperide’s face. “Tarryn Nelia Kegan.”

Tarryn for her father. Nelia for the ghost who’d inspired her father. Nelia—for me. I smiled, too. “She’s perfect.” Shifting, I set my back against the wall next to Hess. “How long have you been in the nest?”

“Hours. I got cold over there by myself,” she nodded at the walled off part of the cellar. “Athrynel and Quill stayed with me, but once I was cleaned up and had slept off the first edge of exhaustion we moved over here. Much warmer. More blankets.”

“Did you know Trinh’s knights…before?” I asked.

She nodded. “Not well—we were years apart in age. I looked up to them.”

Hew trotted past, the children giggling behind him.

“We’re leaving tonight,” said Hess softly, “Dividing the children up and making family units so we can blend in.”

“To Magadar?” I asked, feeling my heart twist at the thought of separation.

She nodded. “For now, at least.” Tarryn was asleep, and Hess gently removed her from her breast and settled her in her lap, shrugging her tunic back down. “I have never left Dalyn before, but I feel as though Magadar might not be far enough to keep them out of her reach. Trinh wanted to go to the Chancellor for sanctuary—but I have no interest in that—why would they harbor the mistress of a dead king? A mistress who stole his heirs?”

“You were his queen,” I said softly, “You know that. It’s not like you’re without a title if you told them who you really are.”

Hess touched her baby’s head. “My title was lost, my lands given to another. I am nothing and no one—except a mother with children to protect.”

I didn’t reply. My thoughts had turned to my own mother, who was likely in a tavern on the Market Road with my father and sister waiting for news of what happened at the Midwinter Ball. When word came of that utter disaster, they would proceed to Magadar themselves, trusting we would follow. They would seek out the shattered remains of our court in the circus. I didn’t know what father would do after that. Would he go to the Chancellor of Magadar? Or would we vanish into the circus forever? I turned the idea over and over in my head—like a little orb filled with bright tents and colorful people I could turn in my hand and watch them dance and spin. I tried to imagine myself inside the orb. Tried to imagine spinning fire with Balleck or exploring a new town with the acrobats. It didn’t fit, didn’t feel right. Not anymore.

Hew bounded onto the pile of blankets and shoved an exuberant face into mine. I barely got my hands up in time to ward off his tongue as the children chasing him threw themselves onto both of us. The other knights remaining in the nest stirred, the one I’d crawled over moaned. I startled, recognizing Quill’s voice. His arm snaked out from under the blankets and tackled two of the children, who shrieked with delight. Another knight groaned in protest.

Namal and Trinh stopped their conference at the table and turned to watch as the blankets full of people dissolved into a thrashing mess of arms, legs, squealing children and a barking hound. Hess sucked back into the wall, Tarryn tucked in close, watching with amusement. I laughed, fending off Hew and coming face to face with the blue eyes and red hair of Naran. I caught Naran and tickled his ribs, he howled before thrashing to freedom—only to be captured by Quill, who was much harder to escape. When Naran at last tumbled away, he was grinning ear to ear, eyes sparkling. Laughter ached, but it also renewed. I knew that I would not stay in Magadar.

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