Page 43 of His Summer Prince

Elior’s lips pulled into a tight line. “Well, she’s going to be raging mad once she finds out. The apple is extremely valuable, and she’d do anything to retrieve it—which she won’t be able to. But she doesn’t know that, so I’m counting on a pursuit.”

“And the Winter King…?”

“…thinks I’m more trouble than I’m worth. Which is fine by me, but again, my mother will believe she can change his mind if she drags me home, wraps me in chains and drops me at his feet.”

Wren cringed at the picture. “Let’s avoid that.” He bit his lip, thinking. Then, “So where do we go? We can hide in the area for a while, but when winter comes or the orcs press north, we’ll have to move. We won’t be able to stay in Vale; neither of us will be safe here for long. And there’s no one we can ask for help. My family wouldn’t be able to help us. There’s Lord James Aranin, but he’s a calculating politician, who’d sell us out if it helped him. King Malorn can’t be trusted either. Our best bet is to get as far away as possible and do it fast.” Wren narrowed his eyes. “But you knew that. You would’ve thought about all this. So what’s the plan?”

“In the Summer Palace, there’s a library,” Elior said, and Wren’s heart sped up. “I spent a lot of time there during winters, and I had good tutors. One day, I found maps of the human world hidden in a corner…” He reached for his bag and produced several sheets of large, folded parchment. “I stole them months ago.” He unfolded one of the maps, pointing out various places. “Here’s Vale in the central continent Viridis with the WhiteMountains to the North and the continent of Xaustra, home of the orcs, to the south. And you’re right, I cannot stay in Vale during winter. I’d die in the cold. Many maps don’t show this, but here you can see how Viridis stretches far into the west, and here, the continent curves south, where it is always warm.”

A smile tugged at his lips, and Wren couldn’t help but mirror it. He’d go anywhere with Elior. Elior, who’d given up a life of leisure and riches in a beautiful palace for him. Elior hadn’t even considered the loss of these things when he’d married Wren, when he’d stolen the summer faerie fruit for him. He’d done all this for Wren and accepted an existence of scraping by and sleeping on the side of the road because he loved him. Wren would travel deep into the southwest if that was what it took for them to be together.

They ate dinner in companionable silence. As night closed around them, they moved from the river to a nearby forest where they hid between trees and shrubbery. They couldn’t afford to forget the danger they were in. Wren tied the horses to trees and spread blankets on the ground while Elior invoked his magic, drawing in the leaves around them to create cover. Once the camp was glamoured, Elior wove a silencing spell. Hopefully, it’d be enough to contain the animal noises.

By the time they went to sleep, Elior looked exhausted, slumping against Wren on the blankets. Wren wrapped him in his arms and kissed the top of his head. Elior must’ve drained himself ensuring the glamour couldn’t be broken.

Grateful, Wren covered them against the chill of the night. Toby trotted over and lay down by his side. Wedged between Toby’s fluffy coat and Elior’s warm body, Wren relaxed. They were the only comfort he needed, and he hugged Elior tighter against his chest.

Despite how tired he was, he couldn’t fall asleep. His heart beat anxiously as he listened for sounds in the night. Elior, too,was fraught with worry, his nervousness seeping into the bond.

Not long after midnight, the sound of approaching riders rang through the darkness.

Chapter Fourteen

Elior

Elior had dozed off in Wren’s arms when a flash of fear and the sound of hooves startled him awake. He grabbed Wren and went rigid.

Would his glamour hold? He’d poured all his magic into it and disguised their camp as part of the greenery, but he’d never had to cover such a large area. Lockets and wedding marks were small and easy to hide, but here he was trying to keep two people, two horses, two weeks’ worth of supplies and a dog out of sight.

Alarm reverberated through the bond as the riders drew nearer. Soundlessly, Elior rolled out of Wren’s embrace and went for the iron weapons he’d purchased weeks ago at the market in Upper Fairstead.

He handed Wren a sword, catching his wide-eyed look. Unsheathing his blade, Elior snuck to the edge of their camp. If his glamour was broken, they had to be ready. His mother had sent knights to search for him, and he and Wren would be hopelessly outnumbered, but at least they had the iron blades to give them an edge.

Wren crept to his side, blade at the ready. They crouched behind the shrubs, positioning themselves so that they could strike an attacker from two sides.

The knights would hesitate to strike against their prince, and they would flinch away from Wren’s iron weapon—or so Elior hoped.

Judging by the sounds, a whole stampede was incoming, horses puffing as they raced toward them.

They cowered with bated breath, peeking between the leaves. Elior’s heart hammered against his ribcage. Sweat slicked his grip on his sword. The thunder of hooves swelled to an ear-battering noise as a battalion of mounted fae knights raced past them with a mere foot of air and leaves to spare.

As quickly as they’d come, the riders disappeared into the night. Elior exhaled. They hadn’t been discovered; his glamour had withstood the search party’s scrutiny. He looked to Wren, his own relief reflected in his soulmate’s gaze.

It was but the beginning. The following day, they cut through elven territory, hiding in forests as much as they could, only traversing open fields when necessary. Soon, he and Wren crossed back into the human world, passing the famous Ledimore Abbey, where Vale’s young women trained to become revered warrior nuns. They stopped in the town of Firshaw to stock up on food and supplies before continuing into the western valleys. Twice more, they ran into a patrol of summer fae knights: once when they were refilling their waterskins at a river, and again, several days later, as they crossed the Larne Valley and had to circle around the Spring Court. Both times, Elior spotted the patrol early enough to find a hiding place.

Summer reached its sweltering peak. The sun burned down on Vale, ripening the crops from a young green to warm gold. Elior and Wren traveled in the shade of forests wherever they could. When open land stretched before them, they rode in the early mornings and late evenings, resting in groves near rivers and lakes during the hottest time of day.

Elior saw few travelers as they continued west, and people threw them odd looks when they passed through villages—who, after all, was mad enough to choose this heat wave to march across the country?

A week after they’d seen the last fae knights, they found themselves in the village of Shobrooke on the border of Vale and its neighboring kingdom, Neronaca. It was late in the evening, and they were running low on food. They’d been able to collect some berries on the way to keep them nourished, and Elior had shot a rabbit with a makeshift bow and arrow, but those had been lucky breaks. They were desperate for a hot meal and provisions.

“The market’s closed,” the lone guard patrolling the streets told them, “you’ll have to wait till morning. There’s an inn down the road if you want something to eat and a place to stay the night.”

Elior looked to Wren, whose face was lined with exhaustion. It had been a long time since either of them had slept in a proper bed. Toby was panting beside them, and the horses were covered in a sheen of sweat.

Elior and Wren hadn’t afforded themselves the luxury of staying at inns. Now was the time to spend a little of Elior’s faerie gold so they could get a good night’s sleep, the animals could rest, and tomorrow, they’d buy food for the journey into Neronaca.

At the inn, they stabled the horses and took their supper in the downstairs tavern. They ate hearty pies and dug into steaming bowls of stew, devouring enough for men twice their size.

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