Page 11 of Winter's Fate

They would have been heart-tithers, she reminded herself. The pain they caused was worthy of imprisonment—though she could not condone any murder. But Laena did not doubt the man’s famed hatred of magic would extend to any and all such powers. Including hers.

Although she’d never met him, she’d heard tales of his massive height, his broad shoulders. His size indeed struck her now as the stuff of legends, making it a wonder that even his warhorse could carry him so easily. But it was the curl of his dark hair that captured her attention, the way it brushed along the curve of his jaw. It was the ice-blue cut of his gaze as he looked out over the Etran countryside that made her throat go dry, and not only out of fear.

As a young woman hearing tales of his exploits, he’d seemeda hero. But what would he do to her, if he discovered her power?

Nothing good.

“Who’s a little sneak?” Laena startled as the old woman from the coach spoke from her elbow. She was looking up at Laena with shrewd dark eyes, her wispy hair stirring in the breeze.

“Oh,” Laena said. “No one.”

The woman nudged Laena with her elbow. “Come on, darling, I live for the drama. You think I get much drama these days? No. No, I don’t. Half the time I have to make it myself!” She cackled at that, eyes glinting.

“Just my sister,” Laena said. “It’s nothing.”

“I have a sister,” the woman returned. “She’s a wench.”

Laena laughed, stifling it quickly, and turned her gaze pointedly back to the procession. They were already disappearing up the road to the city, no doubt ready to enjoy their royal accommodations.

Who, Laena wondered, would Kat be sending in her place? She didn’t want to care, but she could admit to curiosity, at least. If only to herself. Kat wouldn’t send Declan, would she? The regent would do fine, Laena supposed, but he was needed here. Maybe Lord Graver. Or Cyn Cauthon.

None of them were right. None of them would speak convincingly enough. None of them knew how to sugar their words only to bait their opponent into a bitter bite of their true intentions.

It was no longer Laena’s concern. She was only here to inform Katrina of the threat to Etra: the presence of the blight and the shadow monster. Nothing more.

The old woman sighed, clearly disappointed at the lack of gossip, but Laena left it at that.

At length the procession passed, and the coachman ordered them back into the stage.

The coach droppedits only two passengers in the lower city, and Laena shouldered her bag, happy for a chance to stretch her legs. The city folded around her as it so often had in her dreams, the smell of cedar welcoming her back to the streets like a hug. Vendors fried basilnuts and sausage on the corners, and giggling children darted between buildings. Music played, carts rumbled, and shop assistants moved about with packages and pails of waste.

It was a busy place. A prosperous one. And Laena missed it more than she cared to admit.

Brin poked her head out of Laena’s bodice to look around, her tongue darting as she took in all the new smells. Laena had thought to leave the shimmerling behind, but in the end, she’d given the lizard a small bed in her satchel. No doubt the pesky creature would have hitched a ride, in any case. Might as well be on Laena’s terms.

Besides, she couldn’t bear to leave Brin behind in that rotting garden. It wouldn’t be safe.

Etra carried a strong tradition of connection to its people and its streets and, as the old woman from the coach remembered so well, Laena had been encouraged to walk into the city from a young age. With protection, certainly, but the guards had kept their distance to allow her as true an experience as possible. From her studies, she understood that Aglye’s princess lived a sheltered life. In Etra, they believed in full immersion into their own culture.

Laena had not yet visited the continent, but she couldn’t imagine a more beautiful city than this one. It could not exist.

Had she not abdicated the throne, she’d have embarked on her Queen’s Journey five years ago, touring the country on her own for a time before visiting the continent. Kat would beundertaking the journey next year, assuming the tradition wouldn’t be delayed by war with Silerith.

Laena half expected someone to recognize her, even now. But five years was a long time, and with her hair bound in a kerchief, her skin tanned from days spent in the sun, she blended in with the people more effectively than she ever had. No one even cast a glance her way, except for the shopkeeper who she nearly collided with as she gawked at her own city.

No, it wasn’t her city anymore. Even if memories told her that it was.

Forcing herself to focus on the task at hand, Laena made her way up the hill to the palace. The Aglyean delegation was already inside the gates, making official greetings in the plaza as servants scurried about. The delegation might not have sent King Hawk himself, but Callum Farrow’s presence suggested that things were indeed as dire as Kat had suggested. Aglye certainly seemed as eager as Kat for the delegation to succeed, if they would lend their famed magic hunter as an escort.

When Laena stopped at the guardhouse, it became clear that her anonymity would be a problem. A rather large one, in fact. People on the street glanced at her as she walked straight up to the palace gates.

Suddenly, she was all too aware of how many days she’d gone without washing her plain woolen skirt. Her satchel felt ratty, her hair wispy and out of place after so many days traveling. The guard eyed her warily as she approached, his gaze lingering on the cut on her cheek. She took pains to hold her spine straight and look him in the eye.

Although if his eyebrows became any more overgrown, they’d obscure his vision.

“I’d like to meet with Princess Katrina, please,” she said.

“And I’d like a pet unicorn, miss,” he said. “As it is, you’ll need to wait for Queen’s Day for an audience with the princess and the regent. They’ll attend to your concerns then.”

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