They rode for hours in near silence, with only the whirring sound of the Rock’s mechanisms to war with the thoughts in Locke’s head. He tried to stay busy, riding back and forth through the group on occasion to check with Sly at the front, then Ransom at the back. But he always found himself settling in the middle of the group, near Roar.
She rode well, he begrudgingly admitted. In the beginning, he had watched her for any sign that she might change her mind. There had been a moment when Roar turned back to gaze at the shrinking city that had made him hope she would reconsider. But after a long, lingering look, she’d faced forward, leaned into the wind, and picked up her pace. And from that point on, the only times she had looked back had been with caution, as though she expected a storm to come barreling after them at any moment.
He almost wished it would. He could use the distraction.
Little by little, her nervous glances backward lessened, so that by the time they stopped to eat and rest at a spot known as Death’s Spine, she appeared completely at ease. Almost … giddy.
It only soured his mood more.
Jinx used her gift to light a small fire, and Ran began reheating a soup he’d made the night before. Soon they would begin hunting for the majority of their food, supplementing whatever meat they killed with supplies they brought along or things Jinx could grow. The witch had already wandered off, looking for a good patch of soil to grow some berries for dessert. He focused on Jinx, staring hard while she dug her hands into the soil, pushing a single seed as deep as she could. She kept her hands buried in the dirt, closed her eyes, and began to use her magic. It should have been enough to hold his attention—his friend coaxing a fully grown plant into existence from almost nothing.
But his eyes kept wandering to where Roar walked along the rocky line of sandstone that gave this area its name. Death’s Spine was the unofficial end of Pavan territory, and from this point on it was them versus the wildlands. There was something captivating about Roar, standing upon that dividing line—framed by civilization on one side and wild terrain on the other. She stared out at the surrounding land, hair blowing in the breeze, taking it all in like she was tasting joy for the first time. He blamed Jinx’s earth magic; when she worked it always seemed to affect more than just whatever plant she was focused on. The sun shone a little brighter, the grass appeared greener, even the breeze seemed to luxuriate in the presence of magic, curling indulgently around them. That had to be why the sight of Roar drew his eye.
“Think she can cut it?” Ransom asked between stirs of the soup.
“I’ll make sure of it.”
His friend knew him too well. “You sound less than pleased about that.”
“Yes, well, I was not given much of a choice.”
“Don’t act like you’re not happy she’s here. We’ve all seen the way you look at her.”
Locke scowled. “She was a pretty girl I never expected to see again. I certainly didn’t expect her to become a permanent fixture in my life.” Locke would do his duty and train her, but that had to be it. There was no room in him to care about her. Once you let those kinds of emotions in, it was a lot harder to hurl yourself into death’s path on a daily basis. “Besides … if I did look at her in a way that actually meant something, I would hardly want to introduce her to a life like ours.”
Locke left Ransom to cook and busied himself checking their supplies, far from where Roar wandered. When they sat down to eat, he listened to Jinx tell Roar about Taraanar. “If you thought the Eye was impressive, just wait until you see the Taraanese markets. They go on for what seems like forever, and even the nonmagic markets are a sight to behold. Rich tapestries and spices and pottery—”
Locke interrupted to ask Roar, “You speak Taraanese, right? That’s what you said before.”
Roar sipped soup from her spoon before answering, “I do.”
“But you’ve never been?”
She shook her head. “A childhood friend was Taraanese. I picked up most of it from her and practiced by reading books in the language.”
She was puzzling to be sure. There were ranking nobles that didn’t speak any other languages, and yet this girl from the streets spoke several.
“Well, go on,” Bait said. “Speak Taraanese to me.”
She laughed. “What do you want me to say?”
“Say I’m the most handsome man you’ve ever met, and you’re falling madly in love with me.”
“Does anyone else speak Taraanese?” she asked. No one answered, but Locke knew Duke understood it fairly well.
She turned to Bait with a small smile, and she spoke. Locke had no idea what she said, but he watched her mouth move as the low, soft sounds poured out. He had never found Taraanese a particularly beautiful language. So many of the sounds were made in the back of the mouth and throat that he often thought it sounded garbled or disjointed. But Roar made it sound like a purr, sweet and throaty.
“What did you say?” Locke asked, unable to help himself.
She did not answer but gave him a curious look and continued speaking, and this time he got the feeling it was about him. He made a vow then and there to learn Taraanese. He saw Duke duck his head to hide a smile, and he asked, “What’s she saying?”
Roar stopped midsound, her face blooming with red as she looked at Duke. Her voice shook as she asked in the common tongue, “You speak it?”
“Not nearly so well as you. But I understand enough to get by.”
“What did she say?” Bait asked, practically bouncing on the rock where he sat.
Duke answered, “She said you were like a small puppy. All excited energy and overflowing with love. And she hopes that you don’t drool like a puppy too.”
Everyone laughed, but Bait did not seem to mind. He didn’t know how to be serious. Sometimes Locke wondered if he did it on purpose, if it was easier to joke than face what was real. Everyone on this crew was here because they had left something worse behind. You did not choose this life if there was a better option waiting for you.
“I am overflowing with love,” Bait said. “And it’s all for you, Roar.” He gave a suggestive arch of his eyebrows, and Locke fought the urge to shove him into the campfire.
“All right, lover boy,” Jinx cut in. “Ease up before I lose my soup.”
Ransom mumbled between sips, “Watch out. Puppies will also try to hump your leg if you’re not careful.”
Roar gasped with laughter, her whole head thrown back. The normally silent Ransom cracked a smile.
Jinx added, “It’s true though. Bait really can’t be trusted.”
One corner of Roar’s mouth tipped up. “With my leg?”
Jinx cackled. “With anything. The novie thinks it’s funny to play pranks. He might flatter you now, but that won’t stop him from torturing you in the name of fun later.”
Locke added a second helping of soup to his bowl and said, “You might end up with a haircut like Jinx.”
Roar’s jaw dropped and she looked to the witch, whose hair was shorn on one side, a design cut into the hair just above her ear. “Bait cut your hair?”
Jinx laughed and smacked Locke on the arm. “Now who’s torturing the girl? Bait didn’t touch my hair. He’s not that stupid.”
“I don’t know,” Bait said, scratching his chin. “I might be. What do you think Ran would look like with only half a beard?”
“You would die before you found out,” Ran growled, causing Bait to change seats and sit closer to Roar.
Locke was still hung up on the words she had said in Taraanese. Unable to wait a moment longer, he asked, “What was it you said after the puppy thing?”
She froze and a flush rose on her cheeks. When she didn’t answer, he turned to Duke.
The old man shrugged. “Not sure. Couldn’t follow that part.”
Traitor.
Roar bit her lip and smiled at the old man. Whatever she said must not have been flattering. He stayed quiet after that, not wanting his foul mood to spill out for the others to see. Roar was freer with them, Jinx and Bait especially, and he wondered if it was because those two gave him a harder time than the rest. She would gravitate toward them.
Roar marveled over the berries Jinx had grown. She asked a dozen questions about how it worked and what seeds Jinx kept in supply. Between each question, she popped another berry in her mouth, closing her eyes to savor the sweetness. He made himself look away and start a discussion with Ransom and Duke. Roar was a distraction, and in his life distractions led to death.
After they finished their soup, Bait took Roar’s dirty bowl and offered to clean it with his. She said, “I can do it.”
“Nonsense. As my future wife, I intend to pamper you.” He finished the declaration with an exaggerated bow.
She laughed. “That’s kind. But I feel it’s only fair to warn you that marriage does not agree with me. I have already broken one betrothal. I’d hate to break you too.” It took every bit of Locke’s considerable control to continue looking uninterested as he cleaned his bowl.
Jinx chuckled, and Bait dropped to his knees in front of Roar. “You can break me. I think it will be worth it.”
She laughed again, a glowing flush to her cheeks. And Bait had put it there, not him. It was better that way. She and Bait would have more in common. They’d only added the novie to the crew six months prior.
But after he stowed his bowl, Locke found himself marching over anyway. “Are you done making a fool of yourself, novie? We need to get back on the road.”
Roar glared at him, but the rest were used to his bouts of surly behavior. Bait climbed up from his knees and gave a salute. “Yes, sir! Right away!”
Jinx rolled her eyes and sighed at Locke as she got up to leave too. When they were making their way back to their horses, he tried to think of something to say to ease the strain between him and Roar, but all that came out was, “Your hair is shorter.”
She took her time untying her horse, and when she finished, she turned to face Locke, her eyebrows raised nonchalantly. “Hmm?”
“Your hair. It’s shorter.”
She cleared her throat, and when her eyes stayed just shy of meeting his, he knew he had made her nervous but not why. “I was wearing a scarf before.”
“You were. But I could feel the mass of hair beneath it when you fainted and I caught you. It was much more than you have now.”
She exhaled and shrugged. “It was too much. It would get in the way on the road.” She flicked up one of the short strands and added, “This is easier.”
“Practical.” He liked that.
“Wouldn’t want to be a liability.”
He frowned. “Are you ever going to let that go?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She pulled herself up into the saddle. “Are you going to teach me anything else about storms? Or shall we spend the next leg of our trip in uncomfortable silence again?”
He stayed on the ground below her horse, the early afternoon sun haloing her.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” he shot back. “Silence doesn’t bother me. Is it the quiet or me that makes you uncomfortable?” She stared at him, her eyes narrowed and hands fisted tightly in her horse’s mane. He grinned, and she snatched up her reins.
It was plain she meant to end their conversation, but he lingered a moment longer. He smoothed a finger down her horse’s muzzle, and the pretty mare leaned into his touch. He rubbed gently, just above her nostrils, and her ears flicked with approval. He leaned in and murmured low to the horse, “Run well for her.” He gave the horse one of Jinx’s berries, and the mare pushed her nose into his hand searching for more. Roar was glaring when he looked up.
“Well?” she asked. “Are you going to teach me anything else?”
Once again, he found himself grinning. He was looking forward to wiping that haughty look from her face. “We’ll start your first lesson tonight when we make camp.”
“And what lesson would that be?” she asked.
“How not to die.”
* * *
Novaya’s hands shook as she told the story of Princess Aurora’s kidnapping. She was panting, having run all the way from the flower fields to scream the news to the soldiers standing guard atop the city walls. Several immediately set out on horseback, while another rushed her to the palace courtyard that was being decorated for the wedding, dragging her before the queen.
Nova did not have to feign distress or tears when Queen Aphra collapsed in the courtyard where she had been happily inspecting flower arrangements for a wedding that would never come to be. Even as Rora’s childhood friend, Nova had always found the queen frightening. She held too many secrets to ever be at ease with her ruler.
But now that strong, powerful woman was a broken heap of wailing mother upon the earth. The sounds that poured from the queen’s mouth pierced through to the bone and dried up the lies in Nova’s mouth.
The soldier next to Nova, a woman with bands on her uniform signifying thunderstorm and fog affinities, stepped forward and said, “We have a unit out searching already, Your Majesty. But we could use more eyes.”
The words seemed to bring the queen back for a moment. She nodded, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Yes. Take them all. Take whatever you need.” Then as if those words had stolen the last of her strength, she slumped to the ground, pressing her forehead into the dirt. Rora had written a letter to give to the queen, and it seemed to burn in Nova’s pocket. She had to get the queen alone as soon as possible to end her torment.
A horrified quiet reigned until Prince Cassius charged down the palace steps.
“Is it true?” he growled.
When no one answered, he screamed the words again and Nova forced herself to say yes.
He marched to stand before her, his face a mask of fury. Her insides roiled with heat. He hissed, “Tell me everything. Quickly.”
Her voice wobbled as she said, “I went out to pick wildflowers for—”
“I don’t scorching care about the godsdamned flowers. How many were there? What direction did they take her? Was she hurt?”
Nova swallowed, and felt her magic begin to climb up her throat and fill her lungs. She balled her hands into fists and clenched her teeth.
“Answer me,” the prince growled.
“Three. Maybe four kidnappers. It happened so fast. I don’t think she was hurt. But she was screaming. They—they bound her. Took both her and her horse. They went south. That’s all I saw. I ran to get help.”
He snapped a finger, and a soldier in Locke blue rushed to his side. “You have command, Ortuze. Find her. Slaughter those who dared to take her. I want their heads.”
The soldier turned to go, and Nova tried to put some distance between her and the prince, edging closer to the grieving queen. Before she got more than a step away, the prince’s hand shot out, shackling her wrist. Flames licked beneath her skin, begging to be set free.
To his commander, he said, “Search the palace too. Starting with this one’s room, in case she was in on the plot.”
Her heart dropped, and she gasped, stumbling as he pulled her back to him. “I—I would never. She’s my—”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
Nova looked to the queen for help as two Locke soldiers surrounded her, but the woman was lost to the world, trapped by whatever horrors were trampling through her mind. Within moments, the Locke commander had dozens upon dozens of men leaping into action, including the Pavanian soldiers.
As Nova was led away to the palace, she was grateful the soldiers did not touch her. But it was only a small mercy as they kept their hands on their swords. Heart racing, she waited until they were inside the palace, and then reached into the pocket that held Aurora’s letter. She crumpled the paper in her fist, then slipped her hand free. With slow, measured breaths, she pulled on her magic, letting the heat flow through her hands.
If the soldiers noticed the smell of smoke, they did not react, as bit by bit the paper burned in her fist, and she allowed the ash to sprinkle onto the stone floor in her wake.
She would find another way to get word to the queen. First, she had to survive the prince.
* * *
Rora’s legs were stiff from the saddle, but she didn’t complain. She was too busy soaking up everything around her. The land, while still mostly flat, had become dotted with green hills. The road they’d taken from Pavan had become much more difficult to traverse a few hours past Death’s Spine. Ruined Road, the hunters called it. What once had been a long road of flat stones that led from Pavan to Taraanar was now pitted with holes or washed away altogether in places. The Rock made loud, metallic groans every time the wheels hit a patch of uneven road.
The farther they traveled, the more the wildlands lived up to their name. She’d been fascinated with every bird that flew overhead and the grazing deer that would stop and stare as they approached, and then lope off at a surprising speed. The Napatya River, which flowed down from the mountains north of Pavan and curved around part of the city, appeared shortly after their stop at Death’s Spine and ran nearly parallel with the road from then on, winding out of sight at times, only to come back into view a while later. An ominous feeling seemed to always hang in the air, but so far they had seen no hint of a storm.
They stopped for the evening on a flat swath of land between the Ruined Road and the river. The Napatya, named for the old goddess of rivers and lakes, was lined with trees, so Roar could not see the water, but she heard it rushing as they made camp.
Her hips and thighs twinged with pain as she slid off Honey’s back and led her to the river for a drink. It was darker under the canopy of trees, and insects hissed and trilled, filling up the night with sound. Honey ambled into the water until it covered her hooves and then bent to drink. Roar was contemplating wading into the cool water herself when Locke appeared beside her. He’d not spoken to her since their stop at Death’s Spine, but she’d caught him glaring more than once.
“Bait will care for your horse. It’s time for your first lesson.”
Bait popped up behind her and snatched Honey’s reins. He gave her a wide-eyed look and muttered, “Good luck.”
She sighed. “Okay. Teach me how to stay alive.”
“Follow me.” He started up the bank and out of the trees. When they passed the last line of branches, he began to run. She followed, but frowned when they passed the others making camp.
She held back her questions, knowing how they agitated him, and focused on keeping pace with his longer legs. She was relieved he stuck to the road. Twilight had cast their surroundings in eerie shadows. When his pace increased, she matched it. She was in decent shape from her occasional runs with Taven and his unit—her mother believed in being strong in both body and mind. An unexpected pang struck her at the thought of her guard. She knew how seriously Taven took her protection. He must have been out of his mind with worry. Perhaps she should have thought to leave him a note as well.
“What?” Locke barked, his eyes narrowed on her as he ran.
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Tired already?” he prodded.
She was. Her thighs were screaming with the effort to move after riding all day, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She scoffed and said, “Hardly.”
He sped up again as if to test her, and she shoved down her pain to keep up. He frowned when she kept his pace without faltering. His eyes flicked to her arm. “Injury giving you trouble?”
“No. It was nothing.” When he kept staring at her, she rolled her eyes and answered, “I was thinking about someone I left back home.”
He stopped abruptly and spun to step in front of her. She barely managed to avoid crashing into him, and he was entirely too close as she struggled to catch her breath.
He said, “Tell me now if you can’t handle this.”
She lifted her chin. “I can handle anything you throw at me.”
“I meant all of this. Leaving your home. Leaving people you love.” He said the last word with his nose crinkled with derision. “If we need to turn around, tell me now. Because if we spend a week on the road and then suddenly you’re consumed with grief, you’ll have to find your own way home.”
“You would leave me to the wilds by myself?”
He ground his teeth together, breath coming in heavy pants, but did not reply.
“I won’t change my mind,” Rora said. Her heartbeat was a rapid drum, but she did not know how much of that was exertion and how much was anger. “Pavan was my home. Everything and everyone I know is there. But that doesn’t change why I’m here with you, with Duke. I’m sure you missed home at first too.”
Locke scoffed, tilting his head to stretch his neck. “No, I didn’t. I don’t think a hunter here did.”
“There was no one you left behind?”
“They were all dead,” he answered flatly, “so I would have missed them the same no matter where I was. If there’s someone you love back in Pavan, maybe you should go to them before your answer is the same as mine.”
He turned and took off into the night. This time he didn’t bother to gradually increase his pace but quickly climbed to top speed. She growled and charged after him. Unlike stubborn, controlling men, running was at least something she understood. It was simple, quiet, peaceful.
But by the time she caught up to Locke a few moments later, she was beginning to realize that there was no peace the way Locke ran. He ran as if a pack of wolves was nipping at his heels. Like the earth was crumbling behind as they went and to slow down even a little, to look back, would mean their end.
Every muscle in Rora’s body burned, but she didn’t fight it. She gave herself over to the hurt because it had never been more stunningly clear that she was alive and free. And as long as she met Locke’s expectations, as long as she exceeded them, she had the chance to become exactly who she had always wanted to be.
Eventually her mind went blissfully blank—no anger, no pain, no sadness. It was too dark to see farther than a few paces, so she forgot her surroundings completely. She did not even realize Locke had stopped until he called out her name, shattering her focus. Her knees felt wooden as she slowed and turned.
“If you’re going to pressure me to return home again,” she said, “I’d rather not hear it.”
His frown deepened. “Fair enough.”
“I know you didn’t want me here.” He interrupted with a mocking bark of laughter, and Rora’s stomach jerked painfully. “But this is all I want. It means … everything. So even if it’s hard, even if it’s dangerous, even if everyone I left in Pavan ends up hating me for it—I will not change my mind.”
After a moment, Locke turned and began walking back the way they came. Roar had stood still too long, and now her legs felt like they might shatter if she stepped wrong. But even so she asked, “What? We’re not going to run back?”
“Save your legs. We’ll be doing this all again in the morning.”
She stared after his retreating figure. “Running? That’s it? That’s my lesson?”
He strode back toward her. The gleam of moonlight combined with his serious expression highlighted the sharp angles of his face. His cheekbones sat high and flat, and his bristled jaw jutted out like a cliff’s edge.
“There will come a day, Roar, when it’s you alone against a storm. You’ll have the length of a heartbeat to take in an extreme amount of information and make a strategic choice. The most important thing any hunter learns is when to fight and when to run. That instinct can only develop with time. But it’s useless if you can’t run fast enough and far enough to escape.”
He pulled something from his pocket that she could not make out in the dark. Then he settled two long leather cords around her neck. From the first dangled a white crystal, like the ones they sold in the market that detected storm magic. He said, “Until then, I will ensure your safety in every way I can. Whoever is on duty in the Rock monitors a larger version of this crystal and will sound a horn should they detect magic nearby. But in case you’re alone, you’ll have this. If it grows hot, you find shelter as fast as you can.”
He still held the crystal between them when she reached down for the item on the other necklace. Her hand bumped against Locke’s as she brought the small tube closer to her eyes. “Firestorm powder,” she breathed.
“Yes, and you’ll take it if we ever get near one. Even if the rest of us are there, you take no chances. The embers are too dangerous. Do you understand?”
She nodded, and their hands brushed once more before he dropped the crystal and stepped away. She tucked the two trinkets beneath her tunic, and they fell alongside the Stormheart ring that dangled between her breasts.
They began walking back toward camp in the dark. “Roar?” Locke said. She hummed in response. It was dark enough that she could barely see him a pace away. “I don’t think your loved ones will hate you for chasing what you want. But if they don’t support you, they’re the fools. Not you.”
Roar smothered a smile. “I seem to remember a certain hunter who wasn’t all that supportive of my decision.”
His low chuckle carried in the dark. “Maybe he’s a fool too.”