“No you wouldn’t,” said Lyr, matter-of-fact. “I’ve seen you ride. You hate it. You’re terrible at it. Nearly fell off the saddle countless times.”
“Where’s Fen?” Ru asked, changing tactics. “I’ll ride with him.”
Lyr shrugged, and Sybeth frowned. “He’ll not be joining us.”
Ru’s heart sank. It wasn’t a shock, not really — why should he come with her when he had no reason to? She was being escorted by the regent’s finest guards. She wouldn’t need Fen anymore. But the fact that he hadn’t come to see her off, had made no attempt to say goodbye… She hated how much it hurt.
Just then, the regent came sweeping out of the palace. She was in her usual military regalia, her face fresh and energetic even in that early hour. Just behind her left shoulder, looking elegant and handsome as ever, followed Lord D’Luc.
“Good morning,” said Sigrun, approaching Ru. “I would like a word with you, Miss Delara, before you depart.”
Shivering slightly, even under her layers of clothes, Ru followed the regent to stand a small distance away from the gathering. She hugged the artifact to her as if it could warm her, despite the mist that clung to them like ghostly wisps.
“Lady Regent,” said Ru, dropping a curtsey.
“None of that,” said Sigrun, waving a hand. “You must be on your way, but I hoped I might steal a moment of your time.”
“Of course,” said Ru, wondering what the regent could possibly impart at this point. She wouldn’t call off the journey to the Tower, not now, would she? Ru shivered a little more violently.
“I must impress upon you,” said the regent, “that it is of the utmost importance that you and the artifact reach the Cornelian Tower safely. Do not do anything rash on the way. Do not begin your research prematurely. Do not handle the artifact without cause.”
Ru felt defiant, insulted that she was being warned like this, treated as if she were a child. Hadn’t she been the only person in Navenie with the relevant knowledge to inspect the artifact? Hadn’t the regent sent for her, by name, and trusted her enough to visit the Shattered City itself? And now the regent was behaving like an overbearing mother when Ru’s own brother hadn’t even bothered to see her off. That thought cut through her defiance, replacing it with a defeated loneliness.
She nodded. “I understand, Lady Regent.”
“And we absolutely refuse to hear of you falling from your horse and injuring yourself gravely,” added Lord D’Luc, flashing a handsome smile.
“Of course,” sighed Ru. “Anything else?”
“You will write a weekly report of your research, hypotheses, findings, and anything else you believe relevant, and send it via pigeon to Lord D’Luc,” said the regent. “Should you need any additional devices, books, or accoutrements of the scientific sort, we will provide either the funds or the things themselves. We only ask that you specify as towhyyou would need said items.”
“We’re all terribly excited to hear what you discover,” said Lord D’Luc.
“I’m sure we are,” said Ru, desperate for either more coffee or a bed to sleep on, and maybe a little cry — she felt so alone. On second thought, the carriage wasn’t such a bad idea.
The regent departed then, flowing sedately up into the palace with Lord D’Luc trailing after. Almost puppy-like, Ru thought, and she liked him a little less for it.
Defeated and tired, she returned to the group of riders and the carriage. Only three of the King’s Guards had arrived so far and were already mounted, looking around sternly with furrowed brows. Ru thought it must be difficult to be so serious and focused all the time. King’s Riders mostly delivered important messages or escorted people around the kingdom, while guards were employed to deliver violence in some form or other.
Their presence made her uneasy.
“Ah, Ru!” Rosylla said, coming around the carriage. “We’re only waiting for one more guard. Why don’t you get settled in the carriage? Your maid had coffee and some cookies sent for you.”
Unendingly grateful for Pearl, Ru finally admitted defeat and scrambled into the carriage, settling herself on the forward-facing bench. It was soft as anything, with warm blankets piled on both seats, and tasseled velvet pillows to cushion the jostle of travel. And there, nestled between two of the pillows, was a large leather flask and a colorfully painted tin.
Ru busied herself with the coffee and cookies until the general conversation outside the carriage grew a little more purposeful. She poked her head out the window and looked around. There were four guards now, all mounted, all wearing their plumed helmets and frowning — and all men.
Sybeth was speaking angrily with one of them, and Ru was sure it was the one who had come late. He kept shaking his head and gesturing as if explaining himself, while Sybeth’s expression of disapproval grew deeper by the second. After a moment, they seemed to conclude their confrontation, and by that time everyone was mounted up and ready to go.
Ru leaned back in the pillows, holding her coffee. She stared out the window as the carriage began to roll forward, pulled by a pair of dutiful palace horses. The opulent palace gave way to trees and hedges of the palace drive, which eventually gave way to the lovely homes that circled the palace to the north, in the highest part of Mirith. Soon enough, the buildings became more colorful and less clean, the streets more narrow, the gardens wilder and brighter.
Ru took it all in with eyes glazed, her excitement to study the artifact greatly tempered by the absence of her brother and Fen. Why had they abandoned her?
She recalled, suddenly, dinner the night before. She had seen them talking, Simon leaning over Fen’s shoulder, the two looking almost conspiratorial. And then they had disappeared, at least Fen had — gone from his seat when Ru left with Lord D’Luc. At the time, so distracted by Lord D’Luc and her own illness, she thought he must have been tired or bored by the whole thing. But now… what had they been up to?
All of a sudden, there was a violent surge of the carriage as something slammed against it. The carriage driver cried out, and someone — it sounded like Lyr — swore loudly.
“Sorry!” came a familiar voice from just outside the carriage. “Only be a minute.”