“Well, then, I have been blessed to know good people,” Kaylein says. “And you have been cursed to know bad. Rowan’s opinion is probably the most balanced. They are neither cutthroats nor saints. Just people living in difficult circumstances. Cedany says she has had to grow a tougher skin, living as she does. She—”
Kaylein stops, her gaze sharpening and then softening in a smile. “I do believe there’s a rather attractive young man trying desperately to get your attention, Rowan.”
I turn to see the boy—Trysten. He’s on the edge of the forest, beckoning. Dain starts toward him, and Trysten gestures to say no, he wants to talk to me. Dain keeps stalking Trysten’s way, calling back, “I’ll handle this.” When I glance at Kaylein, she’s struggling against a laugh.
My brows knit, but she only shakes her head and says, “Is that the false prince you were speaking to earlier?”
“It is.”
While I can’t hear the conversation between them, it’s obvious Dain tells him off for tricking us and setting his villagers on us. It’s equally obvious that Trysten protests his innocence. He tries to say more, but Dain’s already stomping back to me.
“I suppose he insists he didn’t tell them about us,” I say.
Dain grunts.
“What did he say?” I ask.
“That he’d alerted them to intruders before he spoke to us, and they must have overheard our earlier conversation. He obviously thinks we’re all stupid. Telling us he’s a prince. A barefoot, raggedy-clothed prince standing sentry in a backwater village.”
Kaylein asks, “Did he say it before he realized Rowan was a princess? Perhaps when she had her sword at his throat?”
I nod. “You think he was scared and hoping, if he claimed to be a prince, I wouldn’t kill him.”
“Perhaps,” she murmurs. “Or perhaps he was just trying to impress a pretty girl. Either way, once he realized who you were, he didn’t dare admit he’d lied.”
I’m considering this when Alianor, Wilmot and Cedany return.
“It’s true,” Alianor says. “Their version of events is accurate.”
“You don’t look happy about that,” Kaylein says.
Alianor lifts one shoulder in a shrug.
Wilmot says, “It might have been easier if they’d been lying. Then we’d have an excuse to free Sarika by force. As it is, it looks as if Dain and I will be dealing with harpy nests.”
I clear my throat. Wilmot looks at me, and I brace for a fight, but he only sighs and says, “And the royal monster hunter, of course.”
Geraint says there are three nests of young harpies. At least seven juveniles. The young are fledglings, big enough to be left alone while the adults hunt but not big enough to pose a threat to us.
The plan is simple. The adult harpies lost their prey two nights ago, and Geraint says they didn’t see them hunting last night, as they were probably still dealing with the deaths of their brethren. By now, the fledglings will be starving and the adults will be desperate. They’ll leave the nests before dusk. We’ll climb up then and deal with the fledglings.
“Kill them?” Geraint says.
“That’s a last resort, and I don’t see the need for it here. We’ll use your sedative, knock them out and take them with us. Then we’ll dismantle the nests so the adults cannot return. We’ll relocate the fledglings. The adults will follow us, but we aren’t in danger from them, given the size of our group. Once we put the fledglings deeper into the mountains, the adults will be occupied with them, and then we can move on.”
Geraint exhales. “Good. As much as I want to hate those things, I’d rather not see all the young ones killed.” He gives me a rueful smile. “Apparently, I’m getting soft in my old age.”
“We can save the fledglings and relocate the adults,” I say. “With the nests gone, they’ll have no reason to return. No matter how angry they are, they’ll have learned this is a poor area to raise their young.”
Wilmot doesn’t grumble about losing yet another day. It’d be hard to do that when the only choice is to abandon Alianor’s sister. Also, we are monster hunters, and this is a monster problem.
Alianor spends the rest of the afternoon with Sarika. I long to meet her sister, but Geraint doesn’t trust us. Keeping me and Sarika apart ensures we can’t sneak off with her—or fight our way out with her. He wants those harpies gone, and I can’t blame him for that.
By late afternoon, we’re heading out, with Geraint and a few villagers along to assist us. Cedany and Alianor stay behind with Sarika. Geraint suggests Kaylein do the same, since she isn’t a monster hunter. She won’t leave my side, though. Alianor and Cedany are capable of looking after themselves. We leave the dropbear with them. She’s very unhappy about that, but the villagers have small cages, which they use for relocating nuisance animals, and we lock her in one of those so she can’t follow Dain.
It’s only a mile to the nests. And we need to climb down to reach them, rather than up. The Michty was the biggest river in the land, and when it dried up, it left a canyon. The harpies built nests in the cliff walls. On the walk, I ask Geraint how long the beasts have been there. Since spring, he says. He’d never seen harpies this far east, but he’s been seeing a lot more monsters recently. When I ask about them, his answers support the theory that the monsters are on the move in this particular region.
“They’re on this side of the riverbed,” he says. “For a stretch running maybe a mile south.”
In the swath where we’d found the dropbears and colocolos, along with the other harpies. This flock must have diverted, discovered the canyon and seen no reason to keep migrating.
We approach the cliffside as the sun begins to drop. We discuss
