Page 4 of The Duke and the Disciple

Rahn gripped another branch and hoisted himself higher. “When we started studying astronomy, you told me the stars were the Ancestors of the Vjestik. The eternities of your people.” He gathered his breath and resumed climbing. He’d never in his life done anything so reckless, but he couldn’t remember a time he’d ever been so scared.

That wasn’t true. He could remember, if he were ever brave enough.

“It’s just a thing we say...” Aesylt whimpered. “I feel so foolish. It was a damnchase. I should have been ready for it.”

“Heshouldn’t have scared you like that.” Rahn breathed deep.Almost there.“And Valerian wasn’t your wulf, Aesylt. I was.”

She said nothing for several long seconds. He feared she’d lost consciousness, but then she finally spoke. “Tasmin said you weren’t going to come tonight.”

“I wasn’t.” Rahn gritted his jaw, ignoring the tremors taking over his sore arms. Once he reached her, what then? Climbing up was one thing, but climbing down?Doesn’t matter. She won’t be alone.

“What changed your mind?” Her voice was louder, clearer.

You.“I’m a guest of your family. It would have been disrespectful to decline a second year in a row.”

Her laugh was idyllic, crystalline, reminding him of the ice shimmering off the branches when the wind blew. It sounded nothing like the fear bloating in her voice. “Drazhandoesn’t even want to do this anymore.”

Rahn tried to remember how much time had passed since Val had left for help. Regardless, they’d be waiting a while. He couldn’t fathom how the rescuers would get them down safely. Climbing down themselves would introduce the same risk he was hoping to avoid by joining her.Keep her talking.“No?”

“He’s never cared about tradition. He’s only doing what the people want.” She paused, then said, “But I understand. For some, this is an important night. All the damsels who evade their wulves get a feast, paid for from the village’s thin coffers. The wulves who catch theirs get one as well. Do you know how long it’s been sinceanyof us have had a proper feast?”

The last time he’d had one had been on Duncarrow, so he could imagine. The Wynters only lived slightly better than the rest of the Vjestik, but they lived half as well as their counterparts across the Northerlands. “Tradition shapes cultures. Their memories. Their hopes. This one also fills bellies, and that might be a better reason than any.” Rahn didn’t have to agree with them to understand the appeal. He recalled how giddy and excited Aesylt had been in the costume room. “I’m sorry this night hasn’t gone the way you’d hoped.”

“Who says it hasn’t?”

Was that mischief in her voice? Couldn’t be. She was holding onto a damned tree for dear life. “Enjoying yourself up there?”

“You won’t believe the view, Scholar.”

Rahn chuckled to himself.

“I had a pet squirrel once. I thought he was my pet anyway, because he kept coming back, following me into the keep. Not very smart, I thought, because Vjestik eat squirrels, aye? Further south, they’d turn their nose up at such a meager ration, but we take what we can get. Anyway, when he’d come to my bedchamber, he’d sleep right on the stones in front of the hearth. My oldest brother, Hraz, the one who... Well, he named the thing Squish and agreed not to tell the kitchens about my new little friend. Said he was small enough that if he got caught under the wrong boot though...” She made asplatsound. “But I liked the name. The way it sounded. Squish the Squirrel. He was smart for a rodent and a right good climber. Best I ever saw. Resourceful little creature, he was.He’dknow how to get down.”

“Squish,” Rahn mused aloud. “Resourceful, smart. Sounds like someone I know.”

Aesylt snorted. “I notice you didn’t include the part about being a right good climber.”

He grinned to himself. “Have I ever lied to you?”

Her laugh gave him the last bit of vigor needed to reach for another branch and heave himself up. He strained and squirmed up onto a thick blanket of needles, carefully slithering on his belly, and huffed out a triumphant sigh.

Aesylt whistled. “I’m impressed. Didnotfigure you for a tree climber, Scholar Tindahl.”

“A reasonable assertion, given this is the first one I’ve ever climbed,” he answered, winded from a combination of exertion and shock, and scooted himself closer to where she was gripping the trunk. “And hopefully the last.” He made a conscious effort not to look down as he surveyed the situation. Behind her was a cluster of thick arms they could both sit on without fear of them breaking, but now that he was close to her, he could see her bantering had been a cover for pure terror. Her shoulders were pinched and trembly, her knuckles bone white from her bloodied fingers digging into the bark. He’d need to proceed carefully. “I want you to let go, one arm at a time, and slowly turn toward me.”

Her laugh was shaky, forced. “You must be joking.”

“Come on, Aesylt. I have a better sense of humor than that.” He waited for a giggle or some sign she was easing, but all he got was a garbled sigh. “You can let go. I have you.”

“What does that mean, have me? Could you perhaps elaborate, offer specifics? Run through your personal definition of this particular combination of words?” Aesylt turned her face to the side but then snapped her forehead back toward the tree.

“It means there’s plenty of room for you to move around here without falling. You told me once you liked to climb trees.”

“When I was eight!”

Rahn eased himself onto the cluster of branches, working to position himself behind her. “How high did you climb?”

“Never this damned high.” She snorted. “I was adventurous, but I didn’t have a death wish. Then...” She exhaled and rolled her head along the bark. “Val... He was always the one who wanted to climb in the first place, the one who pushed me to go as high as... but he never could do it himself. He always gave up halfway and watched me finish, cheering like it hadn’t been his stupid idea to begin with.”

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