Page 13 of The Sundered Blade

“Not exactly.” Leisa urged her horse into a walk again, her eyes scanning the road ahead. “My father was fae.” Her glance shot to Senaya, who fell in behind them as they continued down the path. “I was told I have likely inherited certain gifts from him.”

“What sort of gifts?”

Leisa’s lips twitched. “Not shy about personal questions, are you?” She sounded more amused than angry.

“Is it meant to be a secret?” Karreya inquired. “I intended no trespass. Was this not what you meant when you said there was no reason to hide your past?”

A reluctant smile pulled at the corner of her cousin’s lips. “Do you know how terrifying it is that you and Vaniell are friends? You both have a way of finding holes in a conversation and poking at them. None of us will have any secrets left by the time this is over.”

Was that a bad thing? Karreya had no idea.

“But no, it’s not really a secret. Or rather, given that we are allies, I see no reason not to tell you.” Her head turned, and her gaze seemed far away even as she nudged her horse towards the side of the road. “I have good hearing. Sharp eyesight. My hands are quicker than normal. And I suspect there are other things I simply have yet to discover. At least, so my father’s brother implied when I met him.”

She had met a fae. Karreya had heard of them, but only as legends. There were no fae in Zulle that anyone knew of.

“I thought,” Leisa went on, “that I would find him at the end of this road. That the dagger I sought was his, but it seems I was wrong. I suppose if I want to know the true nature of my fae magic, I must strive all the more fiercely for peace. Perhaps if we put an end to this war, he will decide to visit me again one day.”

“He will not.” Senaya sounded both weary and certain. “It was only under great duress that he agreed to search for you the first time. The human world has already scarred him, and now that he has seen you—now that he has done his duty by his brother’s kin—he is unlikely ever to return. It is why he gave the dagger to me for safekeeping.”

“Then perhaps,” Leisa said, “I will visithim.”

“They do not permit humans,” Senaya warned her. “Nor is it likely to be possible for you to cross the boundaries into their lands. Whatever magic guards them, it is only the fae who know of it.”

“And yet,” Leisa murmured softly, “he told me that he saw much of my father in me. That I am as much fae as I am human. It may not be likely, but…”

Around a bend in the road ahead, a wagon finally came into view. It was tall and brightly painted, drawn by a pair of plodding horses with large, heavy hooves.

“A merchant,” Senaya muttered. “Unlikely to be a threat.”

But Karreya still drew a dagger in her right hand, holding it out of sight along her thigh as they rode forward. The wagon was large enough to hold at least a dozen armed men, and the wagon’s cover could hide arrow slits from which crossbows might be fired. The driver could be a mage that hurled lightning, and even the horses…

No, likely not the horses. Here in Abreia, it seemed that horses were rarely trained for battle.

“Hallo there!” the man driving the wagon called out, smiling and waving as if hoping very much to die. Did he not know how dangerous it could be to draw attention from unknown strangers? Or did he underestimate them because they were women? Some men did, even in the Enclave. At least until Madame Inci demonstrated why the Empress trusted her so implicitly.

“Good day, and a fair wind to you and yours,” Senaya said calmly.

“From Iria then, are you?” The merchant pulled his horses to a stop, eyes bright with interest. “Any news from Viali? I’m bound there with a wagonload of crafted goods, hoping for a fair profit.”

True, as far as it went.

Senaya bent her head. “I regret there is little of good I can share with you. If you have not yet heard, Their Majesties, King Trevelian and Queen Atalia, have been murdered, and His Highness Prince Torevan is soon to take the throne. A bad business, I fear, particularly for trade.”

The merchant’s face fell. “Murdered.” He shook his head and ran a shaking hand through his thick, brown beard. “’Tis an ugly word, that. I suppose they think ’twas a foreigner? Just as with Her Majesty of Garimore? I hope they won’t turn me away for aught that was none of my doing.”

“They seem to have few clues,” Senaya said carefully. “But I believe you will do well enough if you tread cautiously and have nothing to hide.” Her eyes darted to Karreya.

“Nothing to hide but my secret recipe for fish stew,” the man returned with a wink. “I suppose if there’s no market for pots and pans, there’s always someone who needs a hot, comforting meal. Especially in times such as these.”

There was no lie in his words, and Karreya allowed her shoulders to relax. This man was exactly as he seemed—a simple merchant out to make a living—so she gave Senaya a nod.

“True enough.” Karreya’s aunt turned her gaze back on the merchant and smiled with a rare warmth. “And where is it you hail from?”

“Oh, here and there.” The man waved a hand dismissively. “Was born in Garimore, but took to the road young and been traveling ever since.”

“Any news from the road behind you?” Senaya asked casually. “We are making our way to Hanselm to visit family, and would welcome any warnings of bandits or bad roads to avoid.”

The merchant winced visibly and scratched his chin. “Well now, these are odd times. The roads are safe enough, but… Seems they are busier than usual these days. Troops moving from place to place. Camped in the strangest places. Fields of corn turned to fields of tents. The city gates are closed where once they stood open, and the taverns are empty. Too many taken to swell the army’s ranks.”

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