Again, silence follows my question.
Maybe he never intends to talk to me again.
He yanks on the reins hard, bringing Hale to a sharp left. Our horses follow a narrow path with a thick, overgrown forest on both sides. I squeeze my thighs through the fabric of my surcoat and exhale. The trees overlap above us, their branches winding together like a canopy.
At the end of the path, a cottage perches on a slight slope. Dead ivy creeps up the stone, and broken pottery scatters the ground. Not a single blade of grass grows in the dirt. It’s all mud, rock, and red clay.
Hector dismounts and speaks over his shoulder. “Everyone stay here.”
Instead of obeying Hector, Luc slips from his horse. “Why didn’t you tell me we were visiting Mildred?”
“We’re not.” Hector walks with determined strides toward the front of the ivy-covered cottage. “We’re taking her with us.”
Who’s Mildred?
Hector stops at the door and raps his knuckles against it. It opens on his fourth knock, and an older woman with long silver hair stands there wearing a white surcoat and pants.
A smile spreads across her mouth as she stares up at Hector. “I knew you would come.” She ushers Hector and Luc inside. “I told Annaleigh you would come.”
The sun lifts higher in the sky, peering down at us between thick clouds as the rest of us wait for Hector and Luc to return.
Out of my peripheral vision, I catch sight of the soldier next to Leah assheyanks off her barbute, and her long red hair falls out. Surprise washes over me. I never expected Hector to have another female soldier in his army.
Leah leans toward the red-haired woman and says something, and both women laugh.
Everly pulls out a surcoat and needle and thread. She hums as she mends the hem, her soft melody far more comforting than the surrounding forest.
A side of me longs to speak to Everly, to connect with her and bring back memories of Kassandra. Guilt will not allow me to speak. Guilt for keeping so many secrets from everyone. Guilt for throwing that knife at Hector.
I’m probably the last person Everly wants to speak to.
So, instead I look around, taking in the starkness.
I have never feared the woods. They were always an adventure when I was a child. Mother often took me mushroom hunting with her.
There’s something different aboutthisforest. It’s tall, thick, and not a single tree has a leaf.
Usually, a few trees keep their color, but not here. There is no color. No life. It’s as if someone swiped a cloth across the landscape, erasing away everything bright and cheerful.
Hector and Luc return with the older woman a step behind them. Both men carry three large leather satchels bursting at the seams.
Her gaze lands on me, and her green eyes narrow. “Who is this?”
“My wife,” Hector says as he moves to where I sit perched on Hale.
“Your wife is a Kyanite.” The old woman studies me for so long I squirm against Hale’s saddle.
How does she know that when I don’t wear a Kyanite coat of arms? My surcoat is barren without that sacred tree with its gold threads. I feel my Kyanite necklace through the fabric of my clothes. It hadn’t broken free.
“Indeed,” Hector says in a plain voice.
“Why is she tied up?”
Hector glances at where I sit with my hands bound. “She likes to use pottery as a weapon.”
I glare at him, allowing my anger and my inability to forgive him to seethe from me.
The old woman hikes a thin eyebrow. “I see.”
