Page 80 of Knight from the Ashes (Crown and Crest 1)

23

Henrik

Being such a large animal,aynauths aren’t difficult to track—unless your horses are missing.

Which ours are.

As I feared, they broke away from their tethers when the aynauth made his visit, and we haven’t seen any sign of them since. Bartholomew was beside himself most of the morning, despondent over Vidnar’s disappearance, until I convinced him his beloved horse would surely find his way back to the guard post.

But now we’re traveling on foot, making terrible time as we hike the heavily forested path, following a trail of broken tree limbs, crushed brush, and abnormally large tracks.

I kneel next to one of those tracks, frowning as I compare it to my hand. The indentation in the earth is three times larger, and it’s sunk in deeply, telling me the beast was heavy.

Is this our aynauth or another? Could their paths have crossed?

Not that it matters. As long as the trail continues north, I’m certain we’re on the right track.

“What are these berries?” Pranmore asks. “They don’t grow in southern Caldenbauer, and I’m not familiar with them.”

I glance up, running my eyes over the short bush he stands next to, noting its glossy leaves and the structure in which they grow. The berries are set in clusters of five, and they’re deep red and heart-shaped, with a pronounced point at the bottom. Where other plants are falling dormant for the season, the evergreen is alive and well.

“They’re either dalvinberries or imposter berries,” I tell him.

“What’s the difference?”

“One is edible and the other will make you ill.”

“How can you tell which is which?”

“You can’t—that’s why the latter are called imposters.”

Pranmore frowns at the bush thoughtfully. “There must be some variation between the two. I’ve studied plants a great deal, and I know when you look closely enough, even those that appear similar are not the same.”

He then begins to collect the berries in the palm of his hand.

“You’re not going to eat them, are you?” Bartholomew asks, looking at the berries longingly. “Isn’t that too risky?”

Before the aynauth left, he helped himself to our extra supplies—ripping them right from the tree—forcing us to ration what’s left a little more frugally than is comfortable, especially if you’re traveling with a seventeen-year-old boy who’s constantly starving.

Pranmore glances at my squire. “Woodmores have a high tolerance to natural toxins. It’s unlikely I’ll suffer any ill effects, even if these are the imposters Henrik speaks of.”

Clover makes a slight scoffing noise— the first thing I’ve heard out of her since we left the outcrop.

I glance at her and then look away before our eyes can meet. The guilt is rubbing me raw. No better than Lawrence, I almost kissed her this morning. I would have if we weren’t interrupted.

I probably will if we’re alone again.

I have no willpower when it comes to this woman—no matter whether Clover is baiting me to exchange barbed comments or daring me to prove I could steal her breath and make her knees go weak, I lose my head.

My sights have been set on Camellia for so long, I never paused to question whether I could choose someone else. Someone softer, someone warmer—someone who makes me insane with both agitation and desire.

But am I so easily swayed? Is my loyalty so shallow that I can change direction so quickly?

I have no answer, and it bothers me.

Not that it matters. Perhaps Clover would indulge in a brief affair with a lowly soldier, but she has her eyes set on a prince.

To Clover, this is a lark. But to me, it could be something more. Which means I need to push her out of my mind and focus on the task at hand—securing my seal.

---