Page 10 of Quest
I excused myself to gather some firewood, a plausible enough reason to steal away for the precious minutes I needed to fortify my magical disguise. I moved away from the flickering circle of firelight and found a secluded spot behind a thick copse of trees where the cloak of darkness provided ample cover to work unnoticed. While the oppressive darkness caused my muscles to tense in unease, my desperation to maintain my disguise was stronger. I knelt on the soft bank and dipped my hand into the babbling brook to wash away some of the sweat and dirt that marred my sunburnt face.
Next I pulled out the small kit from my satchel containing the necessary herbs and a compact mirror. I reapplied my illusion spell, then dipped into the paste to darken and reshape my jawline and brows, critical touches that maintained the hardness of my assumed identity.
As I was smoothing the lines with practiced fingers, a rustling noise alerted me to someone’s approach. Tensing, I hastily shoved the supplies into my bag and abruptly stood to face the intruder. Prince Darcel emerged, his expression unreadable in the dim light provided by the small paper lantern he carried.
“I noticed you left the camp.” His neutral tone carried an undercurrent of concern that immediately set me on edge. Though his concern appeared genuine, it drew unwanted attention that would only make my secrecy all the more challenging.
“I needed a moment,” I replied curtly.
I hoped my obvious annoyance would serve as an adequate hint for him to leave, but instead he drew closer. I took a hasty step away from the lantern light, afraid of illuminating my appearance until I double checked that the disguise had adequately masked my womanly features.
Seeming to sense my discomfort, he slowed. There was a pause, the only sound the soft crackle of distant firewood against the backdrop of night until he finally spoke. “The first few days of a journey are often the hardest, especially when one is unaccustomed to the pace.”
My brow furrowed. “Is this an apology?”
He shifted and avoided my eyes, his only response. My first reaction was frustration that his pride prevented him from uttering a simple apology until I remembered Kael’s earlier words:the years of darkness that ravaged the land affected all of us in different ways.
Considering how the curse’s lingering hold over my own heart occasionally cast shadows to darken my thoughts, it would be hypocritical not to extend grace to another victim of the darkness’s aftereffects, even as my stubbornness made me reluctant to concede even one victory in the battle of wills that had been raging between us from the moment he stepped into my shop.
I stifled a sigh, feeling the strain from the effort of keeping my voice low and steady with every spoken word. “I appreciate your concern, Your Highness, but I assure you I’m more than capable of handling the challenges of this journey.”
“Of course.” His tone softened slightly. “Just remember that my offer of help isn't a judgment. We all have our strengths, and a wise man knows when to lean on others. Your struggles in no way lessen your capabilities as an herbalist that we initially sought you out for.”
His words that he likely meant to reassure only reminded me of my precarious situation. “You seem determined not to make an enemy out of me.”
He made no denial to my accusation. “Don’t linger here too long; we have another long day ahead of us tomorrow.” The lantern swung gently at his side as he departed, leaving me engulfed in darkness.
I experienced a mixture of relief and frustration as I watched his retreating back. As much as I disliked the feeling, there was safety in being underestimated and ignored—the less scrutiny, the fewer expectations I had to fail. His notice only escalated the pressure bearing down on me, lest my deceit be exposed.
Prince Darcel’s gaze flicked my way when I rejoined the group to help set up camp for the night, but he otherwise made no acknowledgment of me or the awkward conversation that had transpired between us. As the twilight deepened, the group gathered around the campfire, our faces illuminated by the soft firelight. Their voices blended into a comfortable din of laughter and conversation as they bantered back and forth, sharing tales of past adventures.
I sat slightly apart, nursing a bowl of the stew Sir Jiang had cooked over the open fire. The rich smell of meat and herbs did little to ease the tension cinching my chest, nerves that made the hearty meal almost tasteless. I kept my gaze fixed on the dancing flames, only occasionally allowing my eyes to flicker towards the others laughing and jesting with ease.
Beneath the crackle of the fire and the jovial noise a cold thread of isolation wound its way through my heart. My presence on the outskirts felt symbolic of my place within the group—among them but not truly one of them, a stranger in the guise of a friend. The fear of discovery tightened my throat, stifling any attempt to join their camaraderie.
Sir Jiang steadily ignored me, but every so often Kael would throw a question or a playful jab in my direction. Despite his open friendliness, in my paranoia each inclusion seemed to test my integration into their circle. I responded with gruff nods or short, noncommittal grunts, mimicking the other men as best I could. Though I kept my voice carefully lowered, it still carried a softness I couldn’t entirely mask, making each word a potential slip that only heightened my ever-present anxiety.
Prince Darcel’s keen observation seemed to notice my reticence. His eyes occasionally met mine from across the fire, a silent question in their depths. Each time I would quickly look away, feigning interest in my food to avoid his scrutiny. The others didn’t seem to notice my discomfort, absorbed in Kael’s tale as he regaled the group with a particularly harrowing story from his travels, eliciting roars of laughter. I forced a smile, my laugh a hollow echo of theirs.
As the night deepened, emboldened by the shared warmth of the campfire, the conversation took a sudden, alarming turn. With a hearty chuckle Kael suddenly clapped me on the back, the force of which nearly sent me careening off the log where I perched.
“You’ve been awfully quiet, Ren, leading me to believe your thoughts are elsewhere, and I have a suspicion as to where they’re dwelling…or more accurately withwhom. We've all traded tales of battles and beasts, but what of battles of the heart? Any fair maiden back home who's captured your fancy?”
The question caught me off guard. “What? A…fair maiden?” I struggled to maintain a composed exterior, mindful of the need to respond in a manner befitting my guise. “There's not much to tell.”
My stammer clearly convinced no one, for all the men leaned in, their expressions a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
With a sly grin Kael nudged me with his elbow. “Come now, no man travels with such a heavy heart as you’ve demonstrated unless it's laden with thoughts of someone special. Surely someone has captured your interest. Who is she? I assure you you're among friends here.”
The warmth of the fire paled in comparison to the heat deepening my cheeks from their intense scrutiny. Unbidden, my gaze darted in Prince Darcel’s direction, a lapse in judgment that sense immediately protested—that odious royal was the last man on earth I wouldeverbe interested in. Yet for all my effort, a flush crept up my neck, leaving me grateful for the darkness that hid my ongoing discomfort.
“There’s no one.” I hoped that even in my desperation I sounded nonchalant and masculine. “My apprenticeship with my father has left little time for romance.” I prayed they would leave it that; the question of love—usually so innocuous—felt like navigating a minefield in my current guise, any answer I might give bringing me closer to a slip I couldn't afford.
Oblivious to my discomfort, Kael’s arm came around my shoulders, causing me to instinctively stiffen. “Even if I wasn’t practiced in the art of lying, that blush has given you away.” He poked my cheek with a friendly jab, and it took every ounce of discipline not to flinch or touch my cheek to ensure it was still shadowed with false stubble.
Prince Darcel had been thoughtfully observing the interaction. “Duty can be a rather lonely path. Surely you must have thought about love, even if you haven't had the time to pursue it.”
I felt an unexpected pang at the mention of loneliness—a feeling I’d become all too familiar with since Mother’s death, even with my dear father’s company—and gratefully seized the opening he’d unintentionally given me. “It appears as if the prince has experience in romance.”
