Crown of One Hundred Kings (Nine Kingdoms Trilogy #1) - Rachel Higginson Page 0,44

mingled among the strangers, equally as hardened and weathered as Gunter himself.

This was the Traveling Horde, better known as the Cavolia. Rumored to roam the nine kingdoms with little respect for the law of the land. Notorious for their ability to rob an entire village before help could arrive.

I paid close attention to them throughout the evening, never setting my satchel down for a moment, keeping it nearby even while I bathed and changed into fresh clothes.

Their coppery skin was neither as dark as the Kashans nor as red-tinged as the Vorestrans. Their big eyes pulled up in the corners. They all boasted full lips and thick, dark hair and yet they were clearly not from Barstus.

Their origins remained a mystery. While I knew land existed outside of the civilized realm, I had never met someone from across the Crystal Sea or the Serpent’s Sea.

I looked over to where a cluster of Horde women chatted around the fire as they added spices to a savory stew. Their dark eyes, lined heavily with kohl, sparkled in the setting sun and their pink-painted lips opened wide as they laughed. I couldn’t help but admire their beauty. Even dressed in muted tones meant for riding long stretches, I could see that their clothes were well tailored and made from fine leathers.

“You are not Tenovian.”

I jumped, nearly screeching at the sudden voice behind me. I whirled around and came face to face with Gunter the Abominable. “You… I… No. No, I’m not.”

“I can see that your friend is Heprinian,” Gunter continued, eyeing Oliver with a shrewd gaze. “His fair skin and monk’s cut give him away.”

Oliver ruffled his burnished hair, touching the tips of his ears. Everything under that was shaved closely to his scalp. Although after more than a month on the road, his hair was beginning to grow in. He grumbled under his breath but did not deny Gunter’s declaration.

“I am indeed from Heprin,” I countered. “My companion and I have journeyed from the Temple of Eternal Light.”

If possible, Gunter’s eyes narrowed further and something akin to recognition lit his expression. “You might have hailed from there recently,” he argued, “but you are not from there originally.”

“I am not.”

“And you’re not Arrick’s wench.”

I nearly choked on air. “I am not that either.”

Gunter’s wide mouth split into a smile. “So what brings a fair maiden well into treacherous territory with only a novice monk by her side?”

I squared my shoulders and suggested, “Maybe it was the novice monk that dragged me along instead?”

“No,” Gunter decided. “The monk has the look of terror about his face. You, my dear, are something more than afraid.”

“And why does there have to be a reason?” My fingers felt cold and shaky. If Gunter was the mercenary his reputation declared him to be, the crown pressed against my hip was in more danger than ever. “My only goal was to see more of the realm. To see, after all this time, what my homeland looks like.” Lie. “I can hardly remember it.” Another lie.

“I have sworn to kill Arrick Westnovian,” Gunter replied.

My gut curled with fear for a man I had known scarcely a month. “Does he know this?”

“He does.” The stranger leaned in, smelling of leather and spice and something sweeter, something like peppermint. “He has sworn to kill me in turn.” I nodded. That seemed reasonable. “So until either I kill him or he kills me, no one shall get in the way of our intentions.”

“You’re warning me not to kill Arrick because you want to?”

“Aye.”

“That makes no sense.” When he opened his mouth to reply, I held up a hand to stop him. “It’s no matter anyway, as I do not wish any harm on Arrick or his men. They have been good to us. And in turn, we shall reward them for their service.”

Gunter’s eyes glinted. “Reward? And how will a penniless maiden and impoverished monk reward anyone? With smiles and feelings of gratitude?”

Anger burned through me, eating away at my resolve and intelligence. “Aye.”

“I am to understand that you will travel through Soravale before you head to the Diamond Mountains?”

“Yes. That is what Arrick has suggested.”

“Then I suggest, fair maiden, that you learn to lie better.”

The breath left my lungs in a gush. By the time I’d worked up the ability to speak again, he’d already gone. He walked slowly over to where his horses were penned, holding a hand out to them in a gentle gesture that contrasted starkly with his gruff