“I’d never seen one until we came here.” She shrugs, nonchalant. “But they’re everywhere. We’ll help you hunt one tomorrow.”
“Anwen, where’s the list?” Galinor asks.
I draw it from my pouch and hand it to him.
“Pippa, you know about herbs. Where can we find all this?”
The princess reads the parchment. “You can still harvest water root and kember carrots this time of year, and I have pansley. I’m sure there are potatoes in the kitchen. You may have as much as you want.”
“You have fresh pansley?” I ask, incredulous it could grow here.
She nods. “Archer had a greenhouse constructed immediately after the wedding.” She beams at him, and he smiles back.
Archer doesn’t say much, but he is clearly as in love with Pippa as she is him. I glance at Galinor to see how this affects him.
He meets my eye, takes my hand, and smiles. “After tomorrow we’ll have everything to take to Ergmin. Your father’s curse will be lifted.”
He’s right. Pippa has all the ingredients for Ergmin’s stew. Soon, Father will be free.
And Galinor will go back to Glendon.
I try to smile back at him, and then I attempt to eat the food in front of me.
The topic of conversation turns back to the tournament, and they share stories. Once again, I wish I had been in Lauramore for it.
Pippa pullson her quiver and bow, and then she slides a knife into her boot. I pull on my cloak and adjust my necklace.
I feel like an idiot next to Pippa.
“We’ll need our packs,” Galinor tells the stable boy who brings us our horses.
“We don’t have far to go,” Pippa assures him, tossing her long braid over her shoulder.
Her hair is strange—unnatural. The red is usual enough, but it fades to gold at the ends. I tug at my own curls, which are looking dull after all the traveling we’ve done.
Archer joins us, and, true to his name, he wears a bow as well.
Pippa has a bow; Archer has a bow; Galinor has a bow.
I have a necklace.
“You have a sour look on your face,” Galinor teases me quietly. His eyes are shockingly blue against the gray skies, and he looks happy.
“I’m not eager to track an iktar,” I answer.
Archer leads us out the main gates. “No tracking required.” We pass through the walls, and then, just outside, he stops. “There.” He motions to the rocky meadow. “Take your pick.”
I don’t see anything but rocks and trees and shaggy cows.
Galinor narrows his eyes as he searches the landscape, but he doesn’t seem to have any more luck than I do. He shakes his head and turns to Archer. “What am I looking at?”
Archer laughs. “Do you see that cow out there?”
Galinor is growing impatient. “Yes…”
Archer nods. “That’s an iktar.”
Pippa laughs like Archer’s said something funny.
