tutor to a younger sister.
But I had begged and begged, and he had always had a soft spot for me. When we spent time at his own personal castle, with only our mother in attendance, I had often managed to convince him to do things he wouldn’t otherwise have done.
The memory should have been a pleasant one—I had loved those times—but instead it felt more akin to pressing my finger against a bruise I already knew was tender. It hurt, but sometimes I couldn’t help myself doing it anyway, as if I needed to check if anything had changed. I had loved my brother despite his faults and felt as if it were the two of us against the world. I had never doubted that he would do anything for me. Until I needed him the most—and our kingdom with me—and he had withdrawn, consumed by pride and anger. I realized then how misplaced my trust had been. I was better guarded now.
I snuck another look at Gabe as he strode along, his bow already in his hand, though he carried it loosely. He had younger sisters himself. Did they love and trust him? Had he ever let them down? From his question, I suspected he would be far more willing to teach them the basics of swordsmanship than my brother had ever been to teach me.
No proper conversation was possible, given the daylight, but if I had been making the trek with Audrey, she would have chattered the whole way. Gabe, however, remained mostly silent, speaking only when he wished to point out something of note about our surroundings or to check for directions from the swans.
It was a companionable silence, though, rather than a cold one, and I had to admit I much preferred the journey to my usual solitary trips through the forest. Having his solid presence at my side was reassuring and somehow comforting in a way I hadn’t expected. Although it was possible that was due to what awaited us at our destination. When you knew you were facing an unknown number of wild animals, it was bound to be reassuring to have an expert archer with you.
We walked for two hours before stopping in a clearing several steps off the road to eat some of the food from the bag. I had started to grow nervous by that point. I would have to turn back if we didn’t reach our goal within the next couple of hours. And we would have to move fast on our way back if it took that long.
Thankfully we hadn’t been moving again for long when Shadow flew down, honking assertively as she glided past our heads.
“Do we need to leave the road now?” I asked.
She dipped her head once in agreement.
“Is it far?” I added, thinking both of the awkwardness of following them through the forest and the fact that the sun had now moved past its noon day zenith.
This time she dipped her head twice before bugling loudly. The other swans swooped over to join her, forming themselves into their usual v shape and flapping away across the top of the trees.
“Did they just form an arrow?” Gabe asked, a laugh in his voice.
I shrugged. It was their usual flight formation, but it did work well for our purposes.
We left the road, striking through the trees in the direction the swans had indicated. They disappeared from sight before we made it half a dozen steps, the forest canopy blocking out our view of them. But they must have circled back several times because we continued to see the occasional flash of white through the leaves, letting us know we were heading in the right direction.
“We must be getting close,” Gabe said, voice low. “I think it might be a good idea to move a little more cautiously from here.”
As if to punctuate his words, loud barking broke out. We looked at each other. That hadn’t been far away. I wasn’t sure what worried me more—that it had been so close, or that it had been the sound of a dog, not a wolf. What were dogs doing out here?
“Stay back,” Gabe whispered and began to creep forward through the trees.
I stuck close behind him, carefully watching my feet so I didn’t step on anything noisy that might give away our approach. He looked back over his shoulder and met my eyes. For a second I thought he meant to argue, but then the ghost of a smile