Rosaliy

Rosaliy was consumed with the weight of her task and the frustration of wasting time on travel, so she was completely flummoxed when Drake broke into her incoherent, half-formed, panicky thoughts with an attempt at conversation.

“Have you ever been to Taragon?”

“Why do you ask?” Rosaliy said in a rush, the mention of Taragon reminding her of the malevolent book in her bag. “I mean, yes, a few times. What makes you mention Taragon?”

She earned an askance glance for her awkward answer. “The Ascleon Mountains, I guess.” He waved at the towering, spiky mountains they were heading straight toward. “The fact that we’re passing right by Taragon. I’ve never traveled Kazakoth Pass.”

Good point.

“Oh, that Taragon.” The words slipped out before she recovered and shifted the conversation. “Not many people have gotten to see the Kazakoth Pass bridge. Queen Katyrinna created the base of it with magic thirteen years ago.”

He let her get away with the worst subject avoidance of all time, which she appreciated.

“A magical bridge? Is that safe?”

“Totally safe, but you can walk on the non-magical parts if it makes you feel better.”

He was suitably impressed by the bridge upon arrival.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Drake marveled, peering down the glass porthole rimmed with bone into the black chasm beneath.

The Naxturaen soldiers had rebuilt it from marble hauled in from a nearby quarry. It was wide and white and streaked with pink and glittering dark streaks that sparkled in the sun. The base was made up of an artistic mish-mash of wood and metal and glass and bone, all fused together in chunks.

“It’s the one interesting thing on the trip, I’m afraid. From here out, it’s all rolling hills and occasional trees until the outpost.”

She wished she was exaggerating, but Corin had not been not wrong about the journey between Crystal Palace and Kianne. It was normally a dull trip, but strangely, Drake seemed more relaxed in the open space, downright conversational. Well, at least he was excellent at keeping her chattering about things that made the time pass. She still learned next to nothing about him, beyond the fact that his inscrutable half grins were growing on her. She even tried to ask Drake how he knew Matias, but somehow she ended up telling a story about a three day search for a chicken who had inexplicably scaled a tree. They only found the feathered pest when an egg toppled straight onto her brother’s head.

By late afternoon, they reached an outpost with basic supplies manned by a friendly couple who kept up an inn and a store.

“Rose,” exclaimed Emilia, attacking her with a hug as soon as she stepped through the wooden gate of the wall offering basic protection to the few buildings inside. Emilia was a tiny, gray-haired woman who could fill a room with her personality. “You and your friend must join us for dinner.”

The words sounded like a request, but they weren’t.

“You’ll need a warm meal after that long trip,” Emilia insisted, half ripping off their cloaks by force and prodding them toward her own house. Being Emilia’s guest or her casual prisoner was a fine line. Skipping the family dinner was not an option.

Her husband, Arin, arrived to relieve them of their bags and tuck their horses into a cozy barn. Rosaliy and Drake were seated around a little table in a warm cottage as fast as Emilia could shove them into chairs. She juggled place settings around them and made steaming mugs full of spiced tea appear.

“I always look forward to your visits, Rose,” said Emilia warmly while her husband knocked dirt off his boots and came in to join them. “It must be time for you to visit your family. And bringing a special guest…”

Drake caught the words. She could tell from his momentary pause reaching over to take a spoon of sugar. He was nice enough or amused enough not to argue the suggestive label.

Rosaliy did not want news of her intention to visit Kianne Castle to spread before she arrived, she realized. She was hoping to catch Daniella and find the children, not scare them deeper into hiding.

“Yes,” said Rosaliy. She was a terrible liar without a book to help her. “Yes, that’s where I’m headed—we’re headed. Home to my family.”

Her parents had lived in the Glade for the early years of Rosaliy’s training, but eventually they missed their farm, especially when Rosaliy’s responsibilities at the palace kept her increasingly busy. All that seemed like details a special friend would know upon a visit to said family, so she kept quiet. Lying was complicated and exhausting.

She shot Drake a sideways glance that was something in between “sorry” and “help.” He raised his eyebrows. Good, he knew exactly what she was asking him to do, then.

“Our visit is a surprise,” Drake added. “If you could keep our secret, we’d appreciate it.”

Wow, he was an excellent liar. Emilia’s inclusion as a co-conspirator was a sure way to ensure her silence. Perhaps the only way.

“Of course,” crowed Emilia. “Not a peep, right Ar?”

Arin agreed, and other than a few awkward questions about how Rosaliy and Drake met and how long they had been special friends and just how special their friendship was, Emilia and Arin were easily directed to other topics. Manning a sleepy outpost in the middle of nowhere, they were hungry to talk about anything.

“I’m glad you stopped by, Rose,” said Emilia, heaping another spoonful of mushroom-sauced potatoes onto both plates. Rosaliy might not need to eat again for days. Even Drake was poking at his food, a point she had not seem him reach thusfar. “I need to take a trip into town for supplies, and I’d love to see your parents. It’s been ages.”

“Oh,” she said. And that was it. If there was a reason not to let Emilia tag along other than the fact they were not actually going to her parents’ farm, she could not come up with that reason.

“I’m sorry to be rude,” interrupted Drake, standing, “but my horse was favoring his back leg, and I meant to check on him before sunset.”

“Both horses seemed fine,” insisted Arin.

Drake backed to the door anyway. “I know. It was so minor, but peace of mind, you know.” He held up his hands like everyone understood the necessity of humoring that pesky peace of mind. “I’ll be right back. Rosaliy?” He waved for her to join him. “She’s quite the horse whisperer,” he explained.

Emilia shot a look to Arin, who had no idea what the look meant. Rosaliy knew. Emilia was reading into Drake’s desire for extra time alone with his special friend.

“I am sorry about that,” whispered Rosaliy the instant they were shielded from earshot by barn walls. “Thanks for covering. I’m a terrible liar.”

Drake chuckled softly. “I won’t argue.”

Rosaliy craned her head out the barn door, and the house curtains fluttered. Emilia had been peeking.

“She thinks we’re having a romantic tryst out here,” Rosaliy muttered. “She’s going to come out any moment to intervene.”

“Rightfully so,” he said. “I wouldn’t trust me either.”

“I have no idea how to break it to Emilia she can’t come with us.”

He patted down his horse’s leg, pretending to examine it while he thought over the dilemma. “Are you avoiding your parents?”

“Well, no,” she said. “Of course not. But we don’t have time.”

“I thought they lived in Kianne.”

“It’s a large city,” Rosaliy pointed out. “And they live on the outskirts.”

“Were you planning on walking through the front gates?”

She had, actually.

“Isn’t your parents’ farm near the side gate?”

It was, but she wasn’t entirely sure how he had pieced that together.

“Everything all right out there, dears?” Emilia’s voice floated across the dark.

“All is well,” Drake called back. “Turns out I’m just imagining things! Be right back.”

“I hope you’re ready for spiced persimmon pie!”

Rosaliy whimpered faintly.

“Don’t be too hard on her,” he chuckled. “She did give you a ready-made excuse for being in the area.”

“You’re enjoying this,” she accused, rubbing her temples.

“Too much,” he agreed.

“I don’t know that much about you,” she pointed out. “And I’m a terrible liar.”

“Love is blind,” he snickered, standing and scratching his horse behind the ears.

“Maybe Emilia will get more out of you than I have,” she threatened.

“That is terrifying,” he admitted. “Ready to head back in?”

“No,” she complained.

He held out his hand. “And I was so eager to answer more questions about the specialness of our burgeoning love.”

She grabbed his hand, and they sauntered back inside. Emilia looked them over with a dreamy smile and a sigh.

“Horse checks out,” Drake announced, relinquishing Rosaliy to sit at the table.

“Course he does,” giggled Emilia.

“We’re all set to leave tomorrow morning,” said Rosaliy. “Early. Are you sure you can be ready in time? On such short notice?”

“I’ve been planning a trip for a week,” said Emilia cheerfully, dashing Rosaliy’s last hope. “Cart’s all ready. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up.”

Rosaliy was not a believer in “I told you so” glances, but she may have shot one in Drake’s direction.

“Arin,” chirped Emilia. “Pie!”

At least when her mouth was full, Rosaliy could phrase her half answers more carefully. Watching Drake in action was fascinating. He had a way of coaxing his conversation partner to do all the talking, even when the questions were about him. No wonder Rosaliy had gotten nowhere in her investigation. What was he hiding, she wondered, realizing soon after she probably should not judge on the hiding front.

“Has anyone else come through this way?” asked Drake casually, swirling the dregs of his tea.

“Corin and Hale were through yesterday,” answered Emilia cheerfully. “That Hale. I keep hoping he’ll settle down and have some kids of his own.” She furrowed her brow, as if Hale’s lack of offspring was deeply troubling to her.

Rosaliy nearly choked with laughter.

“How are your children, Emilia?” Drake was quick to ask.

That was Emilia’s favorite subject. She and Arin chronicled each of their children’s exploits in detail that would certainly have made those grown children blush red if they could hear her. It was dark by the time they were released to get some rest.

“Separate rooms, now,” Emilia teased with a wink. “Don’t make me come out there!”

Arin handed them each a key inscribed with a number, balanced two lanterns in one hand and a steaming bucket of water in the other, and he led them to the inn—a series of tiny rooms against the back wall of the outpost. Rosaliy had key number one, and Drake had been given key number three. Apparently they needed an entire room separating them.

“G’night, Rose,” Arin said when hot water had been poured into a basin and the little room had been examined. “Will you be needing a fire?”

“It’s a cozy room. I’ll be fine,” she declined politely, really wanting to contact Athena and get some sleep.

“There are extra blankets in the trunk in the corner,” he said, leaving to repeat the process with Drake.

First, Rosaliy took out the mirror to check in with Crystal Palace. Unfortunately, Athena had nothing to report. The Sorceress had hit a snag or five on reactivating the seeing pool, but she knew now the series of spells hampering her. She said she missed Rosaliy’s expertise, which Rosaliy doubted, but the words raised her spirits anyway. There had been no word from Katyrinna, Alexander, or Issabeth. Athena tried to downplay it, but the Naxturae, including Talyrin and Kaylix, had been out of contact for too long. Rosaliy could do nothing from here, so she let Athena maintain her mask of having things under control.

Disappointed, Rosaliy sat down on her bed and examined the enchanted book by the glow of the lantern. The demanding silver message had appeared again, unchanged, so she leafed through the rest of the pages. It was Alexander’s handwriting—a charming story written for a beloved daughter. Rosaliy had read most of the tale in progress. She had even named the squirrel princess, in fact. Under the current circumstances, the cheerful story hurt her heart, so she skimmed quickly. Nearly at the end, she noticed smudging, and she brought the book closer to the light, turning the handle to raise the wick. The flame flared and brightened. There was more written between the lines of one of the pages. The writing was incomprehensible to her. Had Daniella written it? She could come up with no satisfactory explanation.

A flutter of curtains caught her eye. Emilia was peeking out the windows of her own house. Rosaliy turned down the lantern to a soft glow and pulled her curtains closed. She had just enough time to ready herself for sleep and snuff out that lantern before Emilia came out to see what was wrong.