“We’re regrouping, Tavish,” Rafe said with finality. “We have new information.”
Regrouping. I could almost see the word blazing in Tavish’s head. Still avoiding my gaze, he nodded. “West it is.”
We rode in twos, wearing makeshift cloaks that they’d made from the Vendan saddle blankets to protect us from the cold. Sven and Tavish led, with Jeb and Orrin and the extra horse following behind us. I felt Rafe watching me, as if I might topple from the saddle. In truth, when I first sat on the horse, I thought my thigh was splitting open. The initial pain had subsided but was replaced with a burning ache. I hardly needed the cloak, because with every hoof fall, another bead of sweat formed on my brow. Whenever the horse stumbled on the snow-covered terrain, I clenched my teeth to mask the pain because the words don’t tarry, or they will all die haunted my thoughts. I didn’t want anything, including a painful moan, to slow us down.
“Keep riding,” Rafe told me. “I’ll be right back.” He turned his horse around and called for Sven to fall back into his place.
Sven stopped, waiting for my horse to catch up to his. “How are you holding up?” he asked.
I didn’t want to admit that my back and leg screamed with pain. “Well enough. I’m in far better shape than I was before Tavish removed the arrows.”
“Good to hear. It’s a long way yet to the safety of the outpost.”
Tavish rode ahead, never glancing back. I watched him navigate the terrain, every step uncertain in snow that swallowed our horses’ legs up to their fetlocks.
“He wasn’t happy about our sudden departure,” I said.
“Perhaps just the circumstances of it,” Sven answered. “Tavish is a well-regarded tactician in his unit. Yesterday he had argued for a quick departure.”
“And Rafe said no.”
“But one word from you…” The way Sven left the sentence hanging in the air made me wonder if he questioned Rafe’s decision too.
“It wasn’t just any word. It wasn’t my opinion. It was something else.”
“Yes, I know. But Tavish doesn’t believe in magic either.”
Magic?
I stared at Sven until he felt my gaze and turned my way. “Then we have something in common. Neither do I.”
Rafe signaled for everyone to stop and caught up to us with Orrin by his side. He said he’d looked the horses over and that Orrin’s horse had longer, sloping pasterns, a looser back, and smoother gait. “You’ll trade. It will give you an easier ride.”
I was grateful for the switch and especially grateful it wasn’t Tavish who’d had to trade with me. I had already bruised his ego. I didn’t want to bruise his backside too.
The next several hours went by in considerably more comfort. Rafe knew his horses—and riders. He still watched me out of the corner of his eye.
Once he was sure I was more comfortable, he rode ahead to speak with Tavish. He knew his men too, and I was sure Tavish’s terse remark this morning hadn’t been forgotten. Sven fell back with me again, and we watched them riding together. Tavish actually threw his head back once and laughed. His long black ropes of hair dangled down his back. Sven told me that Rafe and Tavish had been close friends since they were pledges and often got into mischief together. Around the palace and city, one was rarely seen without the other. It made me think of my brothers and the troubles we would stir, and a dull pang swelled within me. My last vision in Sanctum Hall had showed me that the news of Walther’s death had reached Civica. Had the Komizar’s lies of my betrayal reached there already too? Did I even have a home to return to anymore? It was likely that the only kingdom that didn’t have a price on my head now was Dalbreck.
We stopped well before sunset when we came upon a shelter on the leeward side of a mountain that would give us some protection from the weather. I was grateful for making camp early because I was well and truly spent. It angered me that I couldn’t force the weakness away by sheer will. It was a new and humbling feeling for me, having to rely on someone for the smallest of favors. It made me think of Aster and so many others who had walked this fragile line their entire lives, trading on favor and mercy. True power was always just beyond their reach, held in the tight grip of a few.
I insisted on hobbling inside on my own, then looked over tonight’s lodging while Rafe left to gather firewood. Once the horses were taken care of, Tavish said he’d go help Rafe gather firewood. “We’re going to need a lot.”
It was obvious the comment was directed at me, but I ignored it and began to untie my bedroll.
“Better move as far to the back as you can, Princess,” he added. “This cave is shallow and won’t be as warm as the last one.”
I spun to face him. “I’m well aware of that, Tavish. But at least we’ll all be alive.”
I heard the scuff of boots behind me, the others turning at the remark, then silence. The air was taut with expectation.
Tavish immediately backed down. “I meant nothing by it.”
“Of course you did.” I took a step closer. “You have strengths, Tavish, that I greatly admire. Your skills helped save Rafe’s and my lives, for which I’ll always be indebted to you. But there are other kinds of strengths too. Quiet, gentle ones that are just as valuable, even if you don’t entirely understand them.”
“Then help him understand.”
I turned toward the mouth of the cave. Rafe had returned with a load of firewood in his arms.
He set it down and walked over with the rest of us. “Help us all to understand.”
They waited for me to say something. I braced myself for that familiar feeling of failure that always came with the mention of the gift, but instead, a new feeling settled over me, a feeling that was firm and solid. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel something shrink back within me. The shame that had plagued me in the Morrighese court had vanished. I wasn’t compelled to offer apologies for what they couldn’t—or refused to—grasp. That was their burden to bear, not mine.
I hobbled over to Rafe’s sword, sheathed in its scabbard on the cave floor. I drew it out in a swift motion and held it high. “This is your strength, Rafe. Tell me, is it is loud or quiet?”
He looked at me, confused. “It is a sword, Lia.”
“It’s loud,” Jeb offered. “In battle, at least. And deadly.”
Sven reached out and gently pressed the tip downward out of his face range. “A quiet warning too, when hanging at your side.”
“It’s well-honed metal,” Tavish added pragmatically.
“Which one is it?” I demanded. “Metal? Loud? Quiet? Deadly? A warning? Even you can’t decide.”
“A sword can be many things, but—”
“You define a sword by terms and a world that is familiar to you in all the ways you can see, feel, and touch, but what if there was a world that spoke in other ways? What if there was another way of seeing, hearing, and feeling? Haven’t you ever sensed something deep inside? Saw a glimpse of it play out behind your eyes? Heard a voice somewhere in your head? Even if you weren’t sure, this knowing made your heart beat a little faster? Now increase that tenfold. Maybe some of us know more deeply than others.”