“What is her name?”
Arrick was right behind me. I could feel the heat from his chest and the brush of his breath over my neck. “Her name is Finare.”
“She’s Soravalian?”
“I bought her from Gunter,” Arrick explained. “He had already chosen the name.”
“What does it mean?”
Arrick’s voice was little more than a whisper when he said, “Gunter rescued her from the Valleys of Minilin when she was nothing more than a pretty foal. She was alone and starving. Her name means Lost Princess.”
My blood rushed with boiling fire at the same time my hand stilled. Tears pricked behind my eyelids, but I refused to let them fall.
When I opened my eyes again, Eret and Arrick had disappeared and I stood alone with Finare. She stared at me from the eye that faced me, her head still lifted high as if daring me to judge her, daring me to tell her she wasn’t a lost princess.
“So we both know what it’s like to be lost,” I whispered to her. She didn’t move. She simply watched me, as if sizing my own history up against what she knew of the world and man. At last, her muzzle dipped to touch the back of my hand that held her reigns.
I felt the cool wetness of her nose and knew she had accepted me. No matter how silly it seemed, Finare was meant for me. The gentle buzzing in my palm as it rested against her mane assured me that I could trust this lovely mare.
Tessa. The name burst through me with fire. I hadn’t been called Tessa since… I looked over to where Arrick stood addressing his men. Had he truly called me that?
Or had I imagined it?
Unease trickled down my spine, a slow slide of suspicion and fear. Arrick Westnovian was more than he seemed. I couldn’t ignore the instinct feeding my suspicions. But the prince from my past would never abandon his kingdom for a rebel army. He would never leave his family or his people to pursue outlaw justice and anarchy. It wasn’t possible that they were the same person.
And yet, Arrick was something. Something more than what he was letting me see. I needed answers before my lack of information got me and the crown in my possession into trouble.
Finare’s nose bobbed beneath my hand. I turned back to her and decided that whatever time I had left with the Rebel Army would be spent with extreme caution. There was more to the Rebel King than revolution and war. Now I needed to discover if that “more” was for or against me.
The highway snaked through the Tellekane Forest. The massive black cedars were so broad in places that Tenovians had cut through them rather than around them. Giant red leaves glittered in the warm sun overhead. Sometimes they fell to earth, swooping from side to side, mesmerizing me with their burnished warmth and contrast to the black tree trunks and vibrant green grass lining the highway.
The forest remained a marvel. Whatever happened after this journey, I would enjoy this ride, enjoy the beauty and mystery of my realm.
However, the farther north we rode, the more paranoid the people became. As we passed village after village, the townsfolk would hide inside their homes. Windows would shutter, doors would slam, and pulley platforms would lift hastily out of our path.
Maybe it was our large traveling party, or maybe experience had taught these people to be wary of men on horseback. I noticed new construction in several places, set against the backdrop of scorched bark and withered branches. More than one village had been burned.
And where an entire village had been left intact, long ropes could be spotted, hanging from the same branches in which they built their homes. Gallows.
The Tenovian people lived in dread and grief. The trees that sheltered them had been made to punish them. The armies supposed to protect them abandoned them instead.
I had done nothing. I had hidden away in my little untouched corner of the realm. I had let this darkness grow until these people knew nothing else.
The nine kingdoms needed leadership and direction. The Elysian army needed a queen.
We would reach the border between Tenovia and Soravale this evening and Elysia in three more weeks. I was close, but not close enough.
I looked around at the men traveling with us and wondered what would happen if I confessed my mission. Would they accept my undertaking and charge with haste toward Elysia? Or would they take away the one thing that gave me claim to my throne?
I knew there were men in Arrick’s army that I could trust. They had proven themselves to be decent, loyal soldiers with the realm’s best interest at heart. I had even begun to tentatively trust Arrick. But I dismissed the idea once my gaze landed on the Cavolian men surrounding me.
Gunter had not brought his entire traveling horde with him. He had chosen a select group of warriors to accompany us. The rest of the horde had ridden in the opposite direction.
Gunter and Arrick rode side by side at the front of our caravan. Their heads were bowed closely in discussion.
Oliver had been silent all day as he recovered from the mead. His face had shed its greenish tones and returned to its usual pale. Shiksa slept inside my satchel, content after a dinner of Tenovian soft potatoes and a thimble of water.
I slouched in my saddle and gave my back a rest from the grueling position I’d been trying to get used to. We would stop soon for the evening meal. Or at least I hoped we would. As gentle and intuitive as I’d learned Finare could be, I needed rest, and for the ground to be still for just a little while.
“What was that?” Oliver demanded.
I sat up straight once again. My eyes had begun to
