Despite all her heaviness and the incessant weight of the artifact, Ru felt lighter as they rode into the city, the sights and smells of Mirith energizing her after a mostly sleepless night.
She found herself turning this way and that in the saddle to catch sight of a cathedral’s steeple gleaming in the sun, to watch a young man dart nimbly across the road with an armful of bread loaves, to gaze down a colorful side street lined in bright shop awnings.
“You love it here,” said Fen.
She turned, smiling. She had almost forgotten he was there, she was so swept up in the city. “It’s where I grew up. I haven’t been back in nearly a year.”
“The way you look at the city… like you’re seeing it for the first time.” His words were low, thoughtful. Almost as if he was talking to himself.
Ru turned to look at him, or as much of him as she could see so close to him in the saddle. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Where’s home? And I don’t mean where you grew up. What place makes you feel safe every time you return?” She felt a bit silly asking, but the relief of being home was so immense and a bit surprising that it practically oozed from her pores.
Maybe here, home, with her family nearby and under the Lady Regent’s authority, they could sort everything out at last. The artifact would be identified, it would stop talking to her forever, and somehow everything that occurred at the dig site would make sense.
“I don’t have a place like that,” said Fen. Though his tone was nonchalant, the words cut across Ru’s thoughts like a cold wind. “Not anymore.”
She turned away, not knowing how to respond. The idea of not having a home, not feeling safe and happy in any place… she couldn’t imagine it. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “I’m not the kind of person who deserves a lovely home to return to.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Ru. “Everyone deserves comfort, relief, a place to feel cared for.” Especially Fen, who had been nothing but patient and kind and who had saved her life twice.
Fen chuckled. “I suppose I’m just a miserable old man.”
Ru made a noise of incredulity. “Old man? You’re not much older than I am.”
“If you say so.”
As he spoke, the group turned left onto a wide promenade. Just as they did, a cart piled with hay bales came barreling toward them. The riders maneuvered their horses out of the way easily, and Fen did the same. Ru, however, wasn’t prepared for the sudden turn and started losing her balance in the saddle, knowing she was about to tumble humiliatingly onto the cobbles below.
But before she could, Fen dropped the reins with one hand and wrapped his free arm around her waist, steadying her firmly against his chest.
“Careful,” he said, his voice rumbling against her ear. She found — heart hammering in her chest at the shock of nearly falling and the further surprise of Fen’s closeness — that she had completely forgotten what they were talking about.
* * *
The palace was locatednear the edge of Mirith, on the white coastal cliffs that afforded a sweeping view of both the city spreading out below and the bay and its colorful ships that came and went. Everything, from the manicured lawns to the palace walls to the sea beyond, caught the morning sun and seemed to glow.
The palace itself was a sprawling system of buildings, some red brick with white trim, others white stone, all connected to the oldest central building, which was dark gray and aged. Mismatched towers and parapets arose from the palace, belying the patchwork way in which it had been built. It had begun as an ancient keep, and, over time, several of the city’s rulers had added their own wings or towers to the building. The royal family of Navenie’s blood had thinned over the years since Mirith became the capitol, but the family’s defining characteristic was its eccentricity. The mismatched palace was a testament to that.
Ru found the palace intimidating. She had been there many times as a child; her father had been the king’s primary textile supplier before the regent had taken over as Navenie's ruler. She and her brother had been allowed to wander the gardens, playing hide and seek in the topiary. Once, they had been given a tour of the courtiers’ wing of the palace, a footman pausing to point out each of his favorite paintings along the corridors, noting the noble families who had rooms there. Simon had loved those days so deeply that they had been the impetus for his career. He never grew out of the palace, the opulence and pomp of it all.
As Ru, Fen, and the King’s Riders neared the palace entrance, the riders stopped momentarily, palace guards questioning them in low voices.
While they waited, Ru allowed herself to be transported by the morning rays on towering stone, by the hustle and bustle of courtiers and various dignitaries, and even by the food and drink vendors who set up shop along the grand thoroughfare that led up to the palace’s main doors, hawking fried sausages and fried potatoes and fried breads.
Ru’s mouth watered at the smell, sweet and salty and warm. She briefly considered asking Fen to buy her a bag of fried sugar bread, but her thought was interrupted by Sybeth’s bold voice, which carried easily over the general din.
“Miss Delara, Fen, come with me.” She waved one arm to indicate that they would enter the palace.
“I'll see you again soon,” said Rosylla with a smile, departing with Lyr toward the stables and riders’ quarters.
Sybeth led Ru and Fen to a cluster of footmen and stable boys hovering near the palace entrance, waiting to be useful. Sybeth dismounted and said something to one of the young stablehands who ran up to take her horse’s reins. He nodded and chirped something to a colleague, who came running to Ru and Fen. He held out a hand. “Need help, Miss?”
Before Ru could respond, Fen vaulted out of the saddle and landed next to the boy, who started.
