Ronan and Ashyn were outside the hut now. She would stay close enough to hear Tyrus if he woke, but she needed the fresh air and the chance to stretch her legs. They walked along the path leading from the hut. A tree had fallen over it—a small one, easily moved, but they’d left it to discourage anyone from investigating the path.
The hut was only a single room. It had no amenities to speak of, not even a shelter out back for the toilet pit. Ashyn could not imagine living like that for long. Obviously, someone had. Someone who lived off the land. Stole off the land, to be more accurate. They were close enough to the warlord’s compound that all this land would belong to him. Even growing crops on it would be considered theft. Which explained why the hut was so well hidden, a distance from both the road and the spring.
Ashyn didn’t dare walk as far as the road, but they could see it from a curve in the path, and she peered along that seemingly endless stretch of road that would, ultimately, lead to the imperial city.
“Simeon ought to have reached the palace two days ago,” she said. “He’d know he couldn’t stop even for the night. The situation is too urgent. And the emperor would send a fast horse back, ahead of any troops. The rider ought to be here.”
“You’re worried about Simeon?”
She nodded. “He’s no warrior. No great rider either, despite being from the steppes. I fear he didn’t reach the imperial city.”
“You’ve grown fond of him.”
She shrugged and shaded her eyes to look down the road. “He was very knowledgeable and quite companionable.”
“Were you courting?”
She turned sharply, her distraction vanishing. “What?”
Ronan cleared this throat. “I do not ask out of jealousy, of course.”
“I would not presume you do, given that you’re the one who rebuffed me.”
He winced. “I did not rebuff—”
“Call it what you will. I was reacting to the absurdity of the question. I’d just seen Fairview massacred. We were on the trail of murderers, praying to find my village’s children alive. Do you truly think I was batting my lashes at the nearest young man?”
“I didn’t mean courting as in . . .” He struggled for words and then said, “I only asked if you were moving in that direction, so I could better commiserate with your concern for his well-being.”
“I don’t need you to commiserate with anything. Yes, I am worried, as I would be if it was anyone I know. While Simeon did express an interest, I made it clear his feelings were not returned.”
“Was he angry?”
“I suspect it is impossible to be anything but a little angry when one is romantically rejected.”
Ronan glanced away. After a few moments, he said, “Are you angry? With me?”
“I was confused, Ronan. I did not initiate the kiss. I did not give any indication that I expected it. Yes, I reciprocated—I was returning what seemed to be obvious interest on your part. Later, you acted as if I’d thrown myself at you.”
“I didn’t—”
“That’s how you made me feel. Like a foolish girl who’s been kissed once and presumes a marriage proposal will follow. Perhaps I ought to laugh and say that I am relieved, because I did not truly care for you at all. But I have little experience at lovers’ games, and so I am honest. You may not have intended to hurt me, but I was hurt. Clearly, I’m not wallowing in misery. I only wish you had handled it with more sensitivity.”
“There is more to it than—”
“Hello!” a distant voice called, weak and crackling. “Is anyone there?”
“Tyrus,” she said, and raced back to the hut.
When they reached the hut, Tyrus was sitting up, the blanket tangled around his waist. He looked at her and, without hesitation, he said, “Ashyn,” and she knew his fever had broken.
He glanced at Daigo. The wildcat stretched, his claws extending.
“Where’s . . . ?” he began. Then he stopped. “Moria. She’s—”
He went to leap up. The blanket started to fall and he grabbed for it, the movement too sudden, sending him nearly falling flat on his face. He cursed as he struggled to get his balance. His face was so pale he could pass for a Northerner. Ashyn darted forward to help him as Ronan riffled through the pile of clothing.
“I’m fine,” Tyrus said, brushing her off. “I just need . . .”
His legs wobbled, and before anyone could grab him, he collapsed back onto the blankets, the one around his waist falling free. Ashyn turned away quickly.
“I need my trousers apparently,” he said with a strained laugh. “We’ll put that at the top of the list. My apologies, Ashyn.”
She murmured that no apology was needed, but her cheeks flamed nonetheless. Ronan passed Tyrus his trousers, which Guin had cleaned—if haphazardly.
“We needed to undress you because of the fever,” Ashyn said.
“I wasn’t about to ask for an explanation.”
She heard the swish and shimmy of fabric as he pulled his clothing on behind her.
“Now, with trousers acquired, I’m fit to get outside this . . . whatever it is. The smell is enough to send me back onto that pallet.”
Ashyn turned as he swayed. “You truly shouldn’t strain yourself—”
“I’m fine. I just need—” He took one step and dropped to one knee, catching himself before he fell completely.
“You’ve been poisoned, your highness,” Ashyn said. “And four days in a fever. You cannot expect to get up and walk out of here.”
“You sound like your sister. Except she’d inject more snap and less civility in the sentiment. Now, speaking of Moria . . .”
Again, he trailed off. The fever may have broken, but he hadn’t quite recovered his wits, and he kept forgetting himself.
“Is she still . . . ?” He looked up sharply. “She was captured. Did you find her?”
“We could not,” Ronan said. “Daigo could not either. We believe she was delivered straight to Alvar Kitsune, as a prize of war.”
Tyrus nodded slowly, and Ashyn could see his mind turning. “Yes, that would make sense. If she’s with Alvar, then she’s with Gavril, which means she is safe. Whatever he’s done, it’s not as if he’d allow her to rot in a dungeon.”
“That was my thinking as well,” Ashyn said.
“Good.” A weak smile for her. “Then we can both rest easier until I recover her, which I intend to do as quickly as I can. I presume the counselors have been sent back to tell my father what’s happened?”
Ronan looked at Ashyn.
“I fear the counselors are dead,” Ashyn said. “They were waylaid after we searched for the children’s camp. Which we did not find.”
“Because the children were never here,” Tyrus said.
She nodded. “It seems so. The man with the story about his brothers was likely a trap to convince you that you were heading the right way.”
“While Alvar’s men attacked Northpond instead.”
“I don’t know.” She’d been trying hard not to think of that.
When she looked over, she knew that this was exactly what he was thinking. Of Northpond. Massacred because he’d made the wrong choice.
“The counselors supported your decision,” she said.
“Which would be much more helpful if they’d survived to confirm that.”
“We’ll confirm it. And Simeon. He survived, and we’ve sent him back to the city to tell your father. A fast rider should be along any moment now.”
Tyrus nodded, but his gaze was still distant.
“Simeon will tell him what happened,” Ashyn continued. “You made the best possible choice, and you had the full support of both counselors. We all heard that. You will be fine.”
“The people of Northpond will not be fine. Nor will the counselors. Or the warriors who rode with us.” He fell quiet, then managed a wry twist of a smile. “Well, I always said I had no interest in politics or a high military position. Now I don’t have to worry about it. And I’ve long wanted to see the desert. I’ve heard the outposts there aren’t nearly as bad as they claim.”
“No one is exiling you to a military outpost,” Ashyn said. “You did nothing wrong.”
“I’m joking.” He paused. “I hope. But enough of that. When exactly did you send Simeon and what were his orders?”
“A rider should have come by now,” Tyrus said when Ashyn finished explaining. “Something has happened to Simeon.” He stood again and looked about. “You have my blades.”
Ronan passed them over, along with Tyrus’s belt and tunic.
“We’ll start for the city,” he said.
“Now?” Ashyn said. “You’re not recovered enough for the journey.”
“I have to be. The longer we delay, the longer my father doesn’t know about Jorojumo’s betrayal. And the longer before I can go after Moria.”
“You truly aren’t in any condition to travel. Ronan can go. Guin’s here, though I’m not sure she’s more help than hindrance.”
“Guin . . . ? Ah, yes. The spirit-possessed girl.” A half laugh. “I cannot believe I just said that quite so casually. We do make an unlikely group, don’t we? The Seeker, the thief, the ghost, and the bastard prince.” He shook his head. “We are leaving, though. All of us. If I can’t manage it, Ronan will go on ahead, but I need to try. We leave before sundown.”