I had known the tree was likely to act. That was the whole point of getting captured by these fools. But knowing it was coming and seeing it happen were two very different things. The roots of the tree crept forward—its movements smooth, and undulating like snakes, and it was terrifying.

“These are Adelheid Wuhn’s lands, her trees, rocks and hills—and they like her and her family. The forest hesitates to do violence without her permission,” Ilya had explained. “If it hears her side with me, it will listen to me.”

Ilya Terr and his elves couldn’t be seen doing violence to an Angari lord. A fight between the Bulgar’s twenty men and the Countess’s four would be bloody and its outcome unlikely to be good. But just the forest and one half-blood leanyod?  That could hardly cause a problem.

The roots of the cedar tree curled around Adorjan Bulgar’s shoulders. He tried to shrug off the touch, snarling, “Let go,” without turning to look at who touched him.

The Countess saw, though, and her mouth opened in shock.

The men behind me saw, too, and I felt them pull away. One cursed, another began to pray. “What’s wrong with you?” demanded Adorjan, seeing his men recoil, but not understanding. Then the tree yanked back, Adorjan’s body slammed against the trunk so hard his head cracked against it. He blanched and cursed from the pain, turning utterly ashen when he looked down and saw for the first time what held him. “Cut me down!” Adorjan twisted to try to cut the roots with my knife. The moment the metal touched the roots they tightened brutally and he cried out, the knife falling from his fingers as the tree bound his upper arms more firmly.

Several of the men dashed forward to help him, while the others stared in shock. No one was looking at me as I got my feet under me, and stepped through the circle of my bound hands. The knots at my wrists were sloppy, and it wasn’t hard to get my hands in front of me. I dove for the Countess. She was so transfixed by the roots that now held Adorjan’s chest and were curling around his legs that she startled when I grabbed her hands and yanked her to her feet, “Run!”

She looked like she would protest, but her objections died on her lips when she saw the rest of the campsite behind me. The men who should have stood between us and the wood were gone.

*

The Countess followed me at a run to the edge of the clearing and into the little opening the brush left for us—no more than a deer path. The shouting of Adorjan and his remaining men faded behind us as we ran along the little path in the growing gray of dawn. The Countess was gasping for breath when we heard the stamp of horses and then burst into another little clearing where Ilya Terr and Quill waited with all the horses from the Bulgar’s company.

We didn’t take time for pleasantries. Quill boosted the Countess onto the only horse they’d taken the time to saddle and in moments we were all mounted and headed back the way we’d come at a gallop, towing the rest of the horses behind us on their leads. The Bulgar’s horses were tired and were soon flagging, but we didn’t have to go too far before we saw Druskin and Ilya’s sister, Aurel, coming toward us with the rest of our company.

Everyone relaxed when they saw their lieges riding toward them unhurt. This time Quill took the time to cut the bonds on my wrists and the Countess’s before we remounted on our own horses. The elves quickly stripped the Bulgar’s horses of their remaining gear and we set out, leaving the weary animals behind to find water and forage on their own. We didn’t go back to our old campsite, instead cutting deeper into the foothills to head straight for Gar Morwen from our new starting point. There wasn’t conversation as the sun broke the horizon and brightened the forested hills. No one had gotten much sleep the night before. Besides that, the very serious matters of what had happened, and the Countess’s real identity overshadowed any thought of casual conversation, choking it as surely as shade choked grass. For myself, my whole head had begun to throb out of solidarity for my cheeks and jaw. As the morning wore on, I began to feel ill managing the pain on an empty stomach.

When we finally stopped at a stream late morning, I slid off my mount and dropped to my knees beside it to splash water on my face and drink. At the moment, I was too tired and achy to care overmuch if my skin turned blue in front of everyone. The cold water soothed the roiling of my stomach. I sensed Quill kneeling beside me but didn’t look at him as I cupped my hands in the stream and drank some more.

I was vaguely aware of Galo fussing over the Countess, and the fact that I should probably be doing the same thing. And I would. In a minute.

Quill touched my shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Straightening, I gingerly touched my cheeks. “I’ve had worse. But my head is pounding, I lost two knives, and I need to eat.”

He turned me toward him and inspected my face. “You really took a hit,” he said, then he stood and started rooting through his saddle bags.

I stayed by the stream, giving Luza a grateful smile when he came to lead my horse away. He nodded gravely at me before catching up the reins of Quill’s horse also. I was somewhat surprised when Quill returned to sit beside me, a small jar in his hand. “Face me,” he said in a businesslike tone, “We’ll take care of your bruises.”

I shifted, tucking one leg under me, keeping the other in front, knee bent. My cheeks were already burning from the blows, but they flushed hotter as he leaned forward and took my chin with one hand. His fingers were cool and gentle as he began applying salve with the other hand. My heart hammered with each stroke of his fingers on first one cheek, then the other. His eyes were fixed on his work. They were deep brown flecked with emerald. I had forgotten the look of his soul, always so visible in their depths. My breath hitched.

“Sorry,” he said, mistaking the cause of my breath, the brush of his fingers over my tender skin becoming even more gentle.

Don’t be stupid, I chided myself. This was Quill. He was just good. Yes, we’d flirted, but…But still, this job…I remembered the way he’d touched my face just hours ago—as if I were a treasure he’d thought lost. Unbidden, my mind conjured another time he’d taken my face in his hands and pulled all the air from the room with the intensity of his concern. A long time ago. When things were different.

He tipped my head so he could apply salve to my jaw. “Did you have to let them land quite so many blows to the face?” he asked. “Did anyone even bother aiming anywhere else?”

“The worst of it is from Adorjan, I couldn’t very well have stopped him without revealing myself,” I managed, wondering if I sounded breathless.

He stopped and looked at me, “Adorjan?”

“You didn’t see?”

“I was busy clearing the way for you.” Ilya had asked the cedar his favor before he and Quill had left me to go pick off the rest of the Bulgar’s men. While I got the forest the answers it wanted—and kept all eyes on me—they had taken the men one at a time, leaving them bound and muzzled—but alive—in trailing vines in the woods. I hadn’t really considered how little attention they’d be paying me in those moments.

“Oh, well,” I cleared my throat, “Bulgar has a temper.”

Quill fell still, his hands on my face.

“Could have been worse,” I added brightly, “He almost struck the Countess but I distracted him. Could you imagine having to cover the bruises for the wedding?”

His fingers resumed their gentle work, but his brows were furrowed and his eyes hard. “I have a mind to ride back and teach that little tick a lesson.”

“He did get attacked by a tree. Which I feel was more stunning than my revenge might have been.”

“Not enough,” muttered Quill. He finished applying salve, but held onto my chin a moment longer, searching my face. I swallowed hard and looked up at the branches above our heads, afraid that if I met his gaze, he’d see more than he wanted to.

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Bulgar’s men had made camp under an outcropping of rock that was split by a gnarled cedar tree. The tree hunched over the splintered rock like an old man, reaching only tentatively toward the graying sky. They had made no fire, though it was clear they’d been resting a while. Some of the men were still watering the horses at the tiny rivulet dripping from the rock, they were filling waxed canvas buckets in order to get decent swallows—and the thirsty horses drained the buckets faster than they were offered. But most of the men were sprawled on the ground, trying to get a little sleep. In the pre-dawn dim, I could make out the slim form of the Countess, sitting straight as a spear with her back to the stone. Someone had given her a heavy cloak, which she held close against the chill of lingering spring. A man sat beside her, his black hair in a long braid like the others. I assumed this was the infamous Adorjan Bulgar because in the time I’d been watching he’d offered his arm to the Countess, as if for warmth, but she’d stiffly refused. He’d tried anyway and gotten an elbow to the nose for his efforts.

I moved closer, keeping my steps silent. I had asked Ilya Terr his intentions with this rescue, and found that I very much liked the Lord of Linden. If I closed my eyes, I could feel the trees moving around me—without wind to stir them, it was thrilling. There were no sentries on top of the outcropping yet, so I choose to approach from the side and crept close. If the men by the horses stayed focused on their work, I could probably take out the men who were sort of alert on the edge and be right in the heart of the camp before the rest noticed. From there, I could control them with a knife to Adorjan Bulgar’s throat. My lips twisted in a wicked smile as I drew a long knife from the sheath on my thigh. It wasn’t just that Adorjan was being treasonous. The hate he had for the elves reminded me of the hate the Empress had for the nymphs—that she fed and fueled until the waters of Daiesen cringed away from the land because of the taste of nymph blood. Perhaps it was my own guilt, too, that drove me forward, knife angled to bleed the Angari leaning against a skinny tree.

A branch snapped under my foot with a loud crack.

The man whirled to meet me, his sword barely blocking my blow. I struck again, but he blocked, and shouted, “Leanyodi!” Another Angari dashed over and grabbed at me. I twisted away but lost my chance to do any damage to the man with the sword. They tried to grab me but I struck at their arms—one yelped as my blade bit into his vambrace. I didn’t think I’d drawn blood, I sneered at him, then ducked and spun away as the other man made to grab me from behind.

“Zephra!” cried the Countess.

“Quiet!”

Adorjan. Probably.

“Take her alive!”

Definitely.

I made it to the clear patch before the rock overhang when three of them rushed me at once. My attempt to deflect them was feeble against so many, someone struck my jaw and I whipped to the side to soften the blow. I was vaguely aware of them wresting the knife away from me, and taking the other from its place on my thigh. My arms were twisted behind me and ropes dug into my wrists. Roughly, the men pushed me to my knees before Adorjan Bulgar and the Countess. Five of them stood behind me, having each taken part in my submission. It was hard not menace them, so many needed to contain one woman, especially when I glanced around and saw the entire company awake watching our little drama. The Countess’s face was contorted with dismay. Adorjan looked smug. He was probably in his thirties, and probably good looking if you liked clean jaws and full lips and noses red from bludgeoning. No, he was very handsome even with the red nose. I just really didn’t like him and was inclined to hold even his best features against him.

“Do not hurt my leanyod, Adorjan!” snapped the Countess, struggling against her bonds.

Adorjan ignored her. “How did you follow us?”

“You leave a trail like a sleigh in winter,” I replied, trying to blow my hair out of my face. It was half loose and wild as a colt in spring. I’d shaken out most of my braid when I’d given Quill my harness of knives. I wanted to look mysterious, but feral would do.

“I don’t recall the leanyodi being skilled trackers. Who else is with you?”

“I am not a leanyod,” I said.

The Countess stiffened, shaking her head and darting a glance at Adorjan.

He leaned forward, accepting my knives from one of his men. “Really? What are you, then?”

“I am the voice of the springs,” I fixed my gaze on the Countess, “I have a question for my lady.”

Adorjan scoffed.

The Countess blinked at me in astonishment as I said, “Do you approve of Ilya Terr and his offered peace?”

Adorjan’s hand snaked out and slapped me so hard my head snapped to the side and I saw stars.

“Adorjan!” cried the Countess.

“Faithless whore,” snarled Adorjan.

“Treacherous snake! You’ve gone mad. Free us both at once.”

“No, I’ll not let you pollute the honor of Angareth with that leaf-ear.”

“Ilya Terr has more honor in one hair than you do in your entire self,” retorted the Countess with more venom than I’d ever heard. “He will be my consort, not you. Never you.”

Adorjan reeled back as if to strike her but I spoke again, lowering the tenor of my voice, but not the volume, “I am the voice of the moors, and I am tired of bloodshed.”

The trees tops tossed above us as Adorjan struck me instead of the Countess. The blow rung my head and I thought I tasted iron in my mouth. “Who else is with you?” demanded Adorjan.

I let my head hang for a moment as I absorbed the sting of the blow. This was something I was very good at. Dramatics. I rolled my neck, then I looked Adorjan in the eye and let some of my otherness show. That tang in my soul that was not human. “I am the voice of the forest, and we do not approve of you.”

The Angari lord snarled, lunging forward to put my own knife under my chin, “Witch! Tell me who is with you.”

I flinched away from the blade, but grinned at him—wild as the sea in a storm, “The trees.”

He scoffed. But behind him, the cedar tree—the old one which split the rock they sheltered under—was moving.

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For the space of a few heartbeats, we stared after Ilya Terr like owls blinking in the sun.

Quill turned to me, “What was in that note?”

“Nothing flattering to the elves,” I said. After a beat I added, “Drivel about purity of the moors and bringing strength to the Wuhn.”

“You Angari,” muttered Mihalak, then he switched to grumbling in Terrim and bent to help Aurel, Ilya’s sister, to her feet. The other elves were stirring and Mihalak snapped something in elvish that jolted them all to wakefulness. Aurel barely reacted at all when Mihalak told her what had happened. She only glanced into the woods after her brother, and I wondered if she could somehow see him in the darkness.

“We can’t let him go after Adorjan Bulgar alone,” said Galo. She was standing now, trying to wrap a rag of cloth around the stick I’d tossed her.

“The Lord of Linden is never alone if there are trees,” Mihalak put in turning back to our side of the fire.

Galo bit her lip, and I guessed she hadn’t been thinking of Ilya Terr’s safety. She confirmed this by saying, “If Lord Terr kills Adorjan Bulgar he will jeopardize the treaty—a treaty which will save the lives of hundreds.”

“It is not the elves who stand in its way!” retorted Mihalak. He turned back to the Wuhn company, the elves, and Rakov, starting to rise and belt on their weapons.

I caught Quill’s eye and inclined my head in the direction Ilya Terr had gone. He dipped his chin a fraction and I started to move away from the light of the fire while the others continued in a furious hush.

“It will be if he murders an Angari lord!”

“Bulgar is a wretched traitor unfit to bear the title of lord—even an Angari title.”

I stepped into darkness and started moving into the woods.

Behind me, I heard Aurel say, “Mihalak! You aren’t helping.” A pause, then in a more measured tone, “Your Bulgar has already jeopardized the treaty, and will destroy it entirely if he harms either my brother or your lady.”

“We will hunt together, then, for we all wish…” Quill’s voice.

I was too far away to make out the rest. My eyes adjusted to the night, and I could make out the trees and the earth beneath them. Even so, I moved carefully, keeping my hands out to find branches and spider webs before my face did. The way in front of me was surprisingly clear. No roots, brambles, or vines snagged at my feet. I had run through plenty of woods in the dead of night, and it was never this easy. Immediately I thought of swimming in the tidal creeks of Galhara. We were not allowed to redirect the currents to suit our playing, but if we asked, the water would let us slip through it without clinging…The Lord of Linden is never alone if there are trees. My feet slowed and I hoped fervently that Ilya Terr did not mind my presence. Perhaps the forest would deposit me back at the camp if he did not want to be found. Or perhaps I would wander aimlessly in the wood until morning. A shiver ran through me. At least I wouldn’t drown like those who got lost in the sea. I reached out to touch the nearest tree, “I’m a friend,” I whispered, my voice loud in my ears. I felt silly. I resumed walking.

When I saw the form of Ilya Terr ahead of me, leaning one hand against an enormous pine as if on an old friend, I nearly sagged in relief. He was standing with his back to me, his sword dangling loosely in his other hand.

I approached cautiously, taking care to scuff my feet on the off chance the trees hadn’t told him I was coming. I stopped ten feet away and waited a moment. When Ilya didn’t acknowledge me, I ventured, “My lord?”

“Was it funny?” his voice was a growl.

“What?”

The elf-lord half turned toward me; I could sense more than see the anger on his face. “Was it funny? The Countess pretending to be a lesser lady and watching me none-the-wiser?”

“No!” I scoffed, “We were all wildly uncomfortable the whole time.”

Ilya snorted, “You were uncomfortable?” He turned away again. “I thought…I thought I recognized her. I have been going out of my mind because I knew her. Shaddai, I’m such a fool. And I told her such stories…”

His tone had become less feral, and I took it as an invitation, stepping a few feet closer and saying, “To be fair, she looks very different when she’s in her make up.”

“Such a ridiculous custom.”

I managed not to agree out loud, barely.

“Does she have…feelings…for this Bulgar?”

“No, my lord,” I was sure of that.

“Does he for her?”

“Her, or her power.”

Ilya leaned his forehead against the tree, and after a moment asked, “Tell me, did she flee?”

“My lord,” I dared another step closer, “She did not flee. She would not flee. Even if she had discovered you to be a monster she would not flee.” I added quickly, “And she has smiled more in the past three days, in your company, than I have ever seen her.” In the short time I’d known her, at least.

He seemed to relax a little. Leaning heavily on the pine for another long moment. “Can you fight?”

“I can,” I replied warily.

“Good,” the elf lord straightened and started belting on his sword. “They carried her on foot to that boulder over there, then got on horses and rode east. They are still in the hills. So long as they stay in the woods, I can track them easily enough. Don’t bother with torches, they don’t need to know we’re coming.” He raised his voice, “Mihalak!”

I jumped when Mihalak’s voice sounded behind me, much closer than should have been possible.

“My lord.”

“Tell Aurel to come behind with the horses, I will leave a trail for her.”

“Yes, my lord.”

I turned around just in time to see Mihalak bow and head back toward the camp. Quill’s familiar form was just visible in the darkness, striding the last few feet to my side.

“You two, with me now, the rest will follow.” The elf lord strode away.

Well, then. I hurried after the elf, aware of Quill just behind me. Again, despite the dark, we didn’t trip over roots, or vines, and branches didn’t catch our clothes. What had Ilya said to the trees to impress them so much so quickly? And if this was his effect on a grove he just met, how terrifying must the forest of Linden be.

Even with the congenial assistance of the trees, it took all of my focus to keep track of Ilya Terr’s shadow as it slipped from one depth of darkness to the next. We were nearly running, and as time passed, I began to put more and more effort into breathing and care less about making noise. I was stumbling blindly by the time Ilya stopped. I halted, bending to prop my hands on my knees while I contemplated my deep desire to lie flat on my back in the moss until morning.

“They are on the other side of the hill,” said Ilya, quietly. “Idiots stopped for a rest. It will be dawn soon. We will need to be silent from here on.”

Quill came to a stop beside me, I listened to him catch his breath before he said, “Do you intend to attack immediately, my lord?”

“Do you know Adorjan Bulgar? Will he harm her?”

Quill and I looked at one another, then Quill said. “I don’t know.”

“Then we attack immediately.”

“Can we get close enough to get the lay of their camp first?” I asked.

I felt Ilya’s gaze fall on me incredulously. “Do you routinely strike without scouting first?”

“I’m a leanyod,” I said, almost tripping over the word.  

Ilya scoffed, “I’ve never seen a leanyod wear knives or tend horses or keep watch. You’re a bodyguard.”

I crossed my arms. I avoided outright bodyguarding work because I didn’t want to throw myself between an arrow and a wealthy merchant’s heart. But Ilya was right enough about this job. So much for an undercover investigation gig with a little luxury on the side.

“We don’t mean to be rude, my lord,” said Quill, “But we aren’t accustomed to your methods.”

“I will forgive you, just this once,” said Ilya, briskly enough that I couldn’t be sure if he was serious and balked at asking the real question. Did he intend to kill Adorjan Bulgar? Worse, I wasn’t even sure I could convince him not to, since I myself sort of liked the idea.

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“That idiot,” I said. Lovesick loon, indeed.

“Damn him,” Druskin cursed again.

“They can’t have gotten far.” I tucked the note in my pocket and headed for Quill’s bedroll. Crouching, I shook his shoulder. “Quill. Wake up.”

His hand snaked out and caught my wrist, pulling me down as he rolled and flipped me under him. In a split second he’d pinned both my wrists and he straddled my torso, face inches from my own. My breath caught and my weapons dug into my back. His eyes were half closed still but he paused uncertainly, brow furrowed. The next move ought to be a choke or a stab. I tucked my heels close under my rear and prepared to launch Quill over my head if he didn’t snap awake, “Quill! It’s me!”

Quill’s eyes cleared and for a second we stared at one another. He was looking at me as if I were so entirely unexpected, he couldn’t be sure I was real. Releasing one wrist, he touched my cheek, his fingers cold but breathtakingly gentle. Then abruptly he rolled off into a sitting position next to me and scrubbed his hands across his face. He looked haggard. It had been a long time since I’d startled Quilleran Rhydderick. Or seen him…undone…Perhaps it was just a night for uneasy rest—I thought of Druskin’s own close call when he woke me. Or perhaps all who’d fled the Empress suffered nightmares occasionally. Even so, the memory of Quill’s touch, and the way he’d searched my face…My hammering heart wasn’t entirely due to the Countess’s disappearance as I sat up and gently touched his knee. “You alright?”

He nodded, glancing at me, then asked huskily, “What is it?”

“Adorjan Bulgar has kidnapped the Countess,” I said.

That woke him up, “What?” demanded Quill.

I looked at Druskin, who had roused Luza with much less drama, and asked, “How long ago did she leave?”

The Captain of the Guard replied, “A quarter an hour ago? Maybe longer.”

Quill was already pulling on his boots. “Make some torches, it’ll be hard to track at night but if we can find their trail, we should be able to catch them.”

I got up and started rooting in the small pile of firewood for a suitable torch. “Druskin, unless you or Luza are incredible trackers, you should go saddle the horses in case we need them.”

Druskin growled, but he turned and beckoned Luza to follow him.

“What can I do?” Galo was sitting up now, tugging on her boots.

“Light torches.” I tossed her a stick and kept rummaging.

“I have something better than torches,” said the elf, Mihalak. “I’ll wake my lord.”

Before any of us could object, or begin to rationalize a plausible reason not to, Mihalak was shaking Ilya Terr awake. I almost laughed when Ilya, too, was on his feet with a knife in hand before sleep left his eyes. Another soul all too familiar with the taste of peril. Such a company we made. Perhaps by the end of this journey all the Wuhn would wake this way, too.

“Countess Adel has been snatched in the night,” said Mihalak, putting a steadying hand on Ilya’s shoulder.

Countess.

By the gleam in his eye and the tone of his voice, Mihalak had put it together.

“What?” Ilya demanded, coming fully awake, “How?”

Druskin opened his mouth and turned red with embarrassment. Heaven forbid he mention the Countess’s humble activities before another male.

I answered for him, “She left the fire to relieve herself and didn’t come back, I found this note when I went to look for her.” I held up the offending paper and felt Druskin stiffen as Ilya crossed over and plucked the truth from my fingers. If he hadn’t figured it out before, he would now.

I will preserve the purity of the moors and springs, and bring strength to the line of Wuhn again.

A muscle feathered in Ilya’s jaw as he read.

Cordially, Adorjan Bulgar

Ilya crushed the paper.

“Lady Adel…of Wunhravinwel.” Ilya raised his hard eyes to mine. “Countess Adelhied Wuhn.”

I nodded. “You…startled her…” I offered, lamely.

“I told you, Ilya!” exclaimed Mihalak.

Ilya looked to each of us, her faithful retainers, in turn, his lips a stiff line. Turning away, he walked back toward his bedroll.

“We’ll find her,” said Druskin, in a gruff attempt at diplomacy, “Don’t fear, my lord, she will be at Gar Morwen for the wedding. And the King will have Bulgar’s head for this.”

Ilya reached his pack and stopped to look back at Druskin, “He won’t get the chance.” Then he scooped up his sword and strode into the night.

*

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Three days passed and the moors gave way to rocky hills scattered with trees. I stayed close to the Countess whenever we rode, and Galo stayed close to her whenever we rested. Once or twice we saw figures in the distance and moved to lower ground to avoid detection. If the elves thought it was odd that we were just as eager as they were to remain unseen, they didn’t mention anything. Quill told me he’d learned Ilya Terr had divided his wedding party in the hopes of slipping across Wuhn territory unnoticed, rather than traveling in high estate on the main roads. There were several other groups of elves traveling across the moors under the cover of the mists, some had left a week ago to make up for their indirect path. The wedding would only be the beginning of peace, I realized.

Ilya’s unrelenting good humor had eventually eroded the Countess’s sense of propriety and she told him an awful story about elves stealing naughty children in the night to enslave them. He’d laughed. Their retinues had breathed a little easier. The evenings saw more conversation, and even the soft notes of a woodwind one of the elves had brought. No one was over-eager to talk about themselves, but hunting, fishing, and the best way to cook rabbit provided lively enough discussion. Ilya often looked at the Countess intently, like he’d forgotten something, staring at her thoughtfully until she noticed and he was forced to look away or say something witty.

At dusk the third day, we made camp in the shadow of a boulder near another little brook. The hills was covered thinly with tall pines, but they grew thick enough near the stream to hide the horses from casual eyes. We were in proper hills now. Boulders jutted from the earth in large and small mounds, offering additional protection from the wind and eyes. Clouds had rolled in that afternoon, and as the twilight deepened it became evident it would be a very dark night. As we watered the horses I turned to Quill, “Think anyone will notice if I disappear for an hour and come back a different color—but clean?”

“You’re very fastidious,” replied Quill.

I snorted, “For a person talking about bathing in a cold hill stream, you mean?”

One of the horses began to paw gleefully at the water, splashing everywhere and causing its neighbors to recoil as water hit their faces.

Quill tossed me a grin, and took a step closer to be heard over the splashing, “Three more days and we’ll be in Gar Morwen. Your quarters grander than those you left behind.”

“Feather beds?”

“Feather beds.”

“Enormous tub?”

“Big as a city fountain.”

“But…will you still cook for me?”

His turn to snort. “I’m certain you won’t be disappointed in their cooks.”

I gave him a skeptical look, just for effect, before backing my horses—who had finished drinking and were weeding—away from the water. “Your rabbit is exceptional, Quill, I’m just not sure I can live without it.”

*

After dinner I set up my bedroll next to the Countess, Galo on her other side, as usual, and fell asleep quickly.

I awoke with a start, Shiharr singing from its sheath as I bolted upright. Druskin recoiled with a startled grunt, losing his balance and landing on his rear in the dirt hand raised to ward my blow. I blinked at him, then quickly checked my knife for blood—it appeared clean, mercifully. “What is it?” I asked lowering Shiharr but not putting it away. “Are you alright?”

Druskin ran his hand over his face and picked himself up into a crouch, “The Countess,” he whispered, “She got up to relieve herself and hasn’t returned.”

Looking around, I saw that the Countess’s bedroll was, indeed, empty. Galo was looking up at us, her eyes foggy with sleep. We’d probably woken her when I’d nearly stabbed Druskin. A yawn clawed its way out of my mouth, and I stretched before sheathing Shiharr and slipping my harness of knives over my shoulders. I fumbled with the buckles. “I’ll go find her.” I pulled on my boots and laced them loosely before climbing to my feet and heading into the darkness in the direction Druskin pointed.

It took a moment to adjust to the utter dark away from the fire, but once I did, I could make out the black forms of rocks and trees. I made my way toward the boulder we’d used for this purpose earlier in the evening, taking care over the uneven ground. I called out quietly, “My lady?” as I rounded the edge of the rock.

Nothing.

She wasn’t there.

I turned and scanned the area. Trees climbed the hill to my left, and thinned to grass on my right. It was hard to tell much in the darkness with rocks casting lumpy shadows around. Could she have somehow tripped and hit her head? “My lady?” I raised my voice this time, “Adel?” I moved carefully around the whole area, expecting at any moment to step on a hand or trip over the Countess’s prone body.

Nothing.

I should have brought a torch.

My sleeve caught on a sapling and when I reached to free myself, I noticed a piece of folded paper twisting on the wind, tied to a branch. A moment of fumbling untied the string. The paper was very finely made, and sealed with wax. I cursed under my breath and headed back to the camp at a jog. Druskin was waiting at the edge of the firelight, tense and already concerned by my long absence and rapid approach. I thrust the letter at him and he stared, confused. “That’s…the Bulgar seal…” he said.

I nodded, “And addressed to you,” I pointed at the fine black ink now visible in the firelight. Druskin tore open the seal and skimmed the letter. His face turned red and he cursed, and I snatched the letter from his fingers before he could tear it in a rage. Druskin spun helplessly and kicked the earth as I read the note, my heart sinking.

Galo sat up from her bedroll, “What’s wrong?”

The elf on duty, Mihalak, Ilya’s second, stood up from where he’d been leaning against a tree. “What is it?”

“It says, ‘Druskin, she is safe, don’t come for her. I will preserve the purity of the moors and springs, and bring strength to the line of Wuhn again. Cordially, Adorjan Bulgar, Count of Bulgarrinwel.’”

*

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

“You are damn lucky I like you,” I jabbed Quill’s chest with my finger.

“Is that why you work with me?”

“When you still work with them?” I jerked my chin toward the fire where Rakov was sitting.

“Indeed,” Quill was still smiling, I could hear it in his voice, but he shook his head. “You’re a snob, Zare.”

“And that’s why I work with you.”

A laugh chuffed out of him. “Is that so? What’s Eliah’s pass on censure?”

I shrugged, “I like her, too.”  Eliah was also the only female friend I had who cared as much about weapons and horseflesh. Not that I had many female friends.

“Do you like anyone else from my company”

“Jemin,” I answered.

“That’s it?”

“I like Brimborren.”

“My horse?”

“Is there another Brimborren?” The horse snorted and I reached over to pat his neck. I actually didn’t know most of the company very well, but I disliked the Breaker and his methods, and Rakov was one of his closest associates. I disliked being kept in the dark. “Is there anything else I should know about this little venture?”

“That the plan,” Quill straightened from leaning on Brimborren’s shoulder and turned to face me, his tone serious, “is to not need to face an assassin. I didn’t expect to see Rakov and Rae’d at all. Not up close, anyway. Of course, the plan also didn’t include angry mobs, bloodthirsty zealots, and sneaking across the moors.”

I moved closer, lowering my voice to avoid even the faintest chance of being overheard, “You’re slipping, Quill. Your plans usually go a bit better than this.”

He also bent closer, “Nonsense. I wouldn’t want you to get bored.”

I put my hand on Brimborren’s neck to steady myself, wishing I could see his face, rather than just imagine the look in his dark eyes. “She claims she has no jilted lovers, at least.”

“Not even that lovesick loon who wrote a letter?”

“Not even. Though he certainly mourns not gaining her alliance for himself.”

“So, still jilted. One way or another”

“I suppose.”

“I’ll find out in Gar Morwen, it’s possible Ayglos and Jemin already know.”

We fell quiet for a moment, then I said, “It’s certainly going to be an interesting journey now,” I tilted my head toward the fire and our elven company.

“What are you talking about?” Quill leaned so close his breath brushed my face, “It was an interesting journey before.”

*

Quill and I returned to the fire at different times, though I was certain no one was fooled. Humans and elves shared the watch duties, neither trusting the other to watch alone. Without the leanyodi ruse, I took watch duty with the rest. My eyes wandered often from the dark moors to Quill, sleeping with his saddle for a pillow. My mind kept returning to how close we’d stood and all possible interpretations of “interesting already.” When I noticed the elf watching me, a faint smile in his eyes, I made a determined effort to look elsewhere for the rest of the watch.

Eventually, I woke Luza for his turn and gladly gave myself back to sleep. In the morning, low clouds shrouded the dawn in shades of gray and blue. The Countess and Galo were bleary eyed and moving slowly. They ate in silence while the rest of us broke camp, and wordlessly accepted Druskin and Luza’s help mounting. I sidled my horse close to them, “Riding again will help,” I said, keeping my voice low.

“A day at the hot springs would help, too,” replied Galo.

I smirked and started to sidle away but Druskin caught my eye. Ilya Terr was riding over to the Countess and I was to stay by her side.

“Lady Adel, are we ready to leave?” the elf bowed slightly in the saddle.

The Countess nodded, “Yes, I believe we are.”

He fell in beside her and we led the procession out of the hollow and continued south. Druskin and Galo rode immediately behind us. Elves and men mingled in the informal train, no one willing to be far from their lieges. Today, with exhaustion and soreness wearing at her poise, the Countess was having an easier time playing the part of a lesser noble. She and Ilya Terr exchanged polite conversation sporadically all morning, and I faithfully rode at the Countess’s side in silence.

“There is a copse of trees to the south,” said the elf, pointing. “There is likely water there, we could stop there and water the horses.”

He was right, there was a stream there. I said nothing.

The Countess squinted in the direction he pointed, and then started to look uncomfortable. “I do not see trees.”

“I can feel them,” explained the elf.

“The stories we have about your people,” began the Countess, hesitantly, “Say that the forests do the bidding of the elves. That you can tell the trees to guard your borders, and they will—to not grow in a glen, and they won’t.”

Ilya looked at her, “They do, but not just any elf’s bidding.”

“Oh?”

“It’s like,” he paused, searching for words, “Some are good musicians because they practice, some are good musicians because they are gifted—but it’s also like training an animal or making a friend. You must learn to speak to the trees, and then they must also respond to you. The forests do not bend just to anyone who can speak to them.”

“Does the forest respond to you?” asked the Countess.

A proud smile flickered across Ilya’s face, “It is my forest.”

The Countess turned back to the moors, “Our stories also say mankind was given the land, but I have never heard it speak.”

“Our stories,” replied the elf, “say mankind wasn’t satisfied with the dirt and asked Shaddai for a different gift, so losing their connection with the land.”

Both the Countess and I looked at him. Ilya was relaxed, looking at the moors with a peaceful expression, as if he hadn’t just insinuated that mankind was greedy. “And what gift was that?” said the Countess, her voice guarded.

“Foresight,” continued Ilya, “The gift of seeing the future. Truly, the other children of Shaddai were upset they had not thought of asking for this gift. But Shaddai was so angry with man for the insolence that the land shook, the seas rose and fire rained down. No one dared asking for the same gift. Not even when, determining that mankind clearly needed the help, Shaddai granted it.”

For a moment, only the sound of hooves thudding on earth and stones filled the air around us. Ilya stole a glance at us, the Countess was thin lipped, and I was fairly certain my expression was similar. And then he laughed.

The Countess jumped like she’d been slapped, then she exclaimed, “You don’t really have that story about us!”

“Well,” Ilya laughed again, “We do. But we have other versions. Less unflattering.”

“Why would you tell me that one?” she demanded. “It’s insulting.”

Ilya didn’t have an answer for her, but his eyes were twinkling and I decided I liked him. After a long moment he said, “My apologies, lady, please, tell me a bad story you have about the elves and I will not be offended.”

She stared at him, clearly taken aback by his humor. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am!” Ilya assured her.

“I…Our stories…” she stammered, blushed, and fell silent.

“If you don’t tell me a story, I will assume that they are all completely hideous.”

“You are very improper,” retorted the Countess.

My lips were twisting into a smile and I couldn’t stop them.

Ilya noticed. “What about you? Will you tell me a story?”

“I will,” I replied, “But my story is not an Angari story, so it should offend men and elves equally.”

“Speak on.”

The Countess darted a worried glance at me.

I ignored her, “Eloi made the sea, and raised from its bed mountains and valleys, and filled it with forests that bent in the current. Then he raised some of the mountains higher, and formed from them the land, which he also filled with mountains and valleys and forests that bent in the breeze.

“Eloi made the nymphs, and gave to them the sea to guard. Then he made the elves and gave to them the land. The nymphs spread throughout the whole sea; some took the mountains, some the valleys, still others went to tend the streams and rivers on land that forever return to the sea.

“But the elves liked the forests best, and neglected the mountains and the open places, so Eloi made dwarves to tend the stone slopes and man to tend the earth.”

Ilya grunted critically, “This is a nymphish myth.”

I ignored him, too, “Each of the land peoples thought their duty was most important, and they sometimes fought about who was foremost in Serrifis. It was after one bloody battle between the peoples that the human prince, Benedek, went to a river to drink and wash the blood off his face. It had been a brutal conflict, and he was tired. He did not see the nymph weeping on the banks of the river until he was kneeling on the shore with his hands in the water. He was struck by her beauty, and even moreso by her sorrow, and he asked her why she was crying. ‘My river is filled with blood,’ she told him, and her sorrow was so great that it filled him with sorrow also. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘let me help you clean the river.’ He said this because he wanted to make her happy, not because he understood why she cared so much about the river. Yet, his words encouraged her, and she told him her name was Ayglara, and she was the princess of her people. While he helped her strain the blood from the river, he tried to explain what the battle had been about. She did not understand and while he was talking to her, Benedek did not understand either.

“Benedek found that he desired to live in peace, caring for both the open places and the river with Ayglara by his side. He loved the river because he loved Ayglara, and thought that perhaps he could learn to understand the other peoples if he had a little help. So, he prayed to Eloi and asked for another gift—the gift of Sight, so that he could see and understand the peoples and bring an end to the bloodshed.

“Eloi was so impressed with Benedek’s request and the honor in his heart that he granted the request. True to his word, Benedek used his gift to make peace between the peoples.  He made a home for his clan by Ayglara’s river. Eloi saw the peace between his children, and was pleased. As a reward for Benedek’s honor and wisdom with his gift, Eloi allowed Benedek’s gift to flow into mankind and spread to their children and grandchildren for the rest of time.” I finished, then added, “It was much more dramatic and beautiful when I heard it from a minstrel.”

“I thought this story was supposed to be equally offensive,” said Ilya mildly, “It favors mankind.”

“I could tell it again and make it a bloody tree and have Ayglara be an elf.” I just wouldn’t let my grandfather know I’d done it.

“Yes, that would be much better,” said Ilya, smiling. Brell would have fainted, I thought, if she had seen the way his face lit when he smiled.

“I don’t understand,” said the Countess, “You aren’t…bothered…you’re so…flippant.”

“Not what you pictured?”

“No.”

I thought she might be also be thinking he wasn’t like the elf she’d met in Gar Morwen during formal treaty negotiations. But here, on the moors, as a stranger, she was seeing a different version of the elf she was marrying.

Ilya paused before answering her, “Truthfully, I am not normally quite this light. But I’m on the way to my wedding and I’m about to end a blood feud myself. Not unlike Benedek. I think I’m allowed to be generous in my opinions for a few days.”

*

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.