Page 13 of Ceridor

We tore out of there, bolting into the darkness and straight west to the border.

The blessed moon came out from behind the clouds, lighting the rest of our path until we got to the forest. I was thirsty and my bum protested at being in the saddle so soon after such a hearty romping, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. I kept alert for anyone else on the road.

"Are you still a prince regent in addition to a bard?" Effie asked softly from where she sat in front of me.

"Yes and no. Our last playdate was on my eighteenth birthday, during which I explained to my father that I wasn't going to take over for him as regent, and that Magnus wanted to instead," I explained. "Had our mother not stepped in, my father wouldhave disowned me on the spot. So I still have my title even though I don't plan to use it. But while Magnus is only a presumptive heir, he's perfect for the role, and the people tease that he should call for an election to try to force Father into retirement."

"Magnus was always, well...magnanimous," said Effie.

I chuckled despite myself, pleased she was in good enough humor to crack a joke.

We rode in silence once entering the forest. By the time we reached the border an hour later, I was exhausted from the adrenaline of being on high alert for bandits, listening to every snapped twig or hooting owl in the darkness that crowded in from all sides.

At the border, the guard held a lamp up to my face, and as I fished in my bag for my seal marking me as a regent prince, I heard my little brother call my name. "Ceridor!"

He charged up to us, eyes wide. "Effie?"

"Magnus!"

He reached up to her. Effie took his hand, got off the horse, then stepped into his arms. I smiled at what my little brother must be thinking, his eyes closed as he hugged Effie with all his might. Fifteen years ago, Magnus had had a ferocious crush on Princess Alodia.

"I'm going back for Johann," I explained, but Magnus only had eyes for the princess.

I swapped horses and rode back through the dark forest.

Chapter Ten

Ceridor

By the time I returned, the courtyard had been ransacked, debris strewn all over the ground, smoke choking my lungs.

In the pale gray light of dawn I watched Danubian High King Ulbrecht challenge King Ott of West Danube to a duel. Johann was off to the side, his arms pinned behind him by a warrior with wild bright-red hair.

In almost no time at all, King Ott was slain. Poor Johann screamed and sank to his knees and my heart threatened to break into pieces from where I hid behind the garden wall.

Ulbrecht turned to the redhead and said something that I couldn't make out. Johann was hauled to his feet and led away. I crept along the wall and followed.

Johann

I'd hated my father for years, ever since he dealt with my mother's death by drinking heavily, womanizing, and beating his son when he got angry, which was almost every day. Still, seeing him murdered right in front of me was traumatic. I'd screamed and it was like the scream had shot me to another place where I watched what was happening from a distance, a thick fog enclosing me as if I were underwater. The fighter had released me, I was so dazed, and steered me just by a firm hand on my shoulder into one of the few remaining tents on the edge of their camp. A brunette had joined the redhead and together they'd untied me and given me a damp towel to wash my face, then a cup of water and told me to sit.

Eventually I surfaced from the fog enough to understand what they were saying. The redhead was asking me if I was okay.

Somehow in watching the two friends tease each other, my mind came back from wherever it had gone. And maybe that was just how it goes, because the thought that had pulled me back was noticing the way these two men looked at each other. Of all things, they had me wondering whether they were lovers.

"He's back," the redhead remarked, looking at me with a smirk. "You're Johannes from yesterday?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Kristoff," he said, pointing at himself, then he flung a hand at his partner, "and this oaf is Igor."

Igor barked a protest and shoved his friend. I couldn't believe how easygoing their rapport was considering they'd woken to an attack this morning.

"How are you not angry at being attacked in your sleep?" I asked.

"Because we weren't asleep," said Igor. "After your father didn't invite us to dinner, we were ready for trouble in the night."

That made sense.

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