“Since late spring.” Bran prods the coals with a long stick, letting it catch fire. He then blows it out and draws on the ring of rocks circling the flames. “We missed the summer season.”
“I’ve been to Triblue,” I say. “But our trips were focused on Father’s goods. I’ve never had a chance to explore. What’s your kingdom like?”
Bran runs a hand through his hair. “It’s warm, and you can always hear the ocean. I miss that more than anything.”
“And there are fish,” Dristan adds from across the fire,his voice dreamy. “I think I’d rather starve than eat another rabbit.”
Galinor appears from the forest, holding several plump hares. “I assume you won’t be eating breakfast then.” His eyes drift to the stag. “Where did you getthat?”
“Pika,” I answer for Irving.
Galinor raises his eyebrows, impressed, and tosses the rabbits at Irving.
“I’ll just take care of those for you,” Irving grumbles.
Galinor grins. “Thanks, Irving.”
The blond prince pauses and looks up. “Aren’t the women supposed to prepare the meat?”
Marigold looks up from her book—I can’t imagine how she reads by firelight—and scrunches her brow. “The only dead animals I’ve touched have been properly cooked.”
Irving looks at me and laughs when I cringe. Still smiling, he turns his attention to Rosie. She meets his eyes, challenging him to ask her to take care of the stag. He only smiles wider and then continues his task. Her eyes stay on him for several seconds even after he’s looked away.
The two are still at each other’s throats, but they’ve learned to keep their arguments to themselves. Every time Irving raises his voice, Pika corners him. It’s hard to have a good, cleansing fight when the glasseln insists on interfering.
Galinor sits across the fire, next to Dristan. It’s been two weeks since we almost kissed, and ever since, he’s been keeping his distance. It’s just as well because every time he’s close I become distracted.
Galinor rests his elbows on his thighs and leans down by the fire. When he looks up, he catches me staring at him. He smirks and raises an eyebrow in question.
I flush and turn back to Bran, desperate to think of something else. “What will we do when we reach your castle?”
“You will be our guests,” he answers. “You’ll have plenty of time to explore before the festival starts. The whales migrate through this time of year, and there are always pods of dolphins not far from the shore.”
I’ve only seen a dolphin once when I was young. I’ve never seen a whale. One of Father’s ships happened upon a sea serpent once on our way to Ptarma, but that isn’t an experience I wish to repeat.
“Thank you,” I tell Bran. “You have all been so generous.”
He claps me on the shoulder. “You’re most welcome. It’s certainly been an experience.”
Pika cleans her paws. Now that her belly is full, she’s content to stretch by the fire and watch Irving tend her kill.
Bran laughs. “I never thought I would sit this close to a glasseln.”
Danver curls up next to Pika. She licks his head, yawns wide, and goes to sleep.
I smile at the pair and then go back to watching the fire.
Tomorrow, we’ll be in Triblue. Tomorrow, I’ll be one step closer to retrieving Father’s stone.
We ride through the winding,stone-lined streets, making our way to the castle. People everywhere call to Bran and Dristan, recognizing their princes, and the rest of us smile and wave when acknowledged.
So far, no one has raised so much as an eyebrow at our strange attire and caravan cart. With all this attention, I feel a little like royalty myself.
Triblue is everything I remember from my youth. The sky is blue, and the ocean is bluer—a teal green shade that seems to glow like a jewel in the sun. The sandy beaches are white, and palm trees sway in a soft breeze. Brightly colored flowers in reds, pinks, and yellows grow rampant amid the needled evergreens and fat-leaved bushes not far from the shore.
Castle Calland is built upon a hill by the ocean, surrounded by the king’s city of Saltwreath and its seaports. A grand structure, even to someone who has seen castles all her life, it’s a breathtaking sight. Hundreds of tall, arched windows sparkle from their settings in the warm, tan stone exterior. Balconies call for guests to bathe in the sun, and red flowering vines crawl from the lower walls, competing in color only with the citrus trees loaded with fruit.
Marigold takes in everything with eager, sparkling eyes. “I’ve never been this far south.”
