told me the breeding of their sheep and the working of their wool were kept a strict secret and their staff were paid well to keep it for them. Whatever their method, Farmer Soel and his family produced the finest wool in all of Phaedra, wool only the wealthy could afford. And as Farmer Soel had welcomed me into his home, his face seemed familiar. Clearly, I had seen him at the marketplace in Silvera.
Lieutenant Chaeron led me into the house while the rest of the men camped outside or in the stables. Wolfe had insisted I needed a chaperone, and I insisted that chaperone be Lieutenant Chaeron.
After a wonderful sleep, it was jarring to get back on the horse, but as the hours wore on, I realized my aching muscles were growing used to the saddle.
Thank haven for small mercies.
The light faded as we cantered into what Chaeron called Lumberland. Most of northern Sabithia was covered in forestation, and the province purchased much of its wood for housing and furniture from the numerous forestry establishments.
Wolfe followed signs posted along a route that allowed travelers to pass safely. By the time we drew clear of the forest, the day had grown dark as it gave way to night. We trotted toward the small village on the forest’s edge. A lumber factory on its outskirts marred its quaint beauty.
Despite the lateness of the hour, people milled about and noise levels rose at our appearance. Wolfe raised his hand and the lieutenant halted. I pulled on Midnight’s reins to draw her to a stop. We watched as Wolfe approached a tall man who wore his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The stranger’s face glistened with sweat and was dirty with grime. Wolfe spoke, and the man nodded before he strode toward the factory and disappeared inside.
Only minutes later, he returned outside accompanied by another tall, strapping man, perhaps in his late fifties. He spoke to Wolfe and then the captain led him over to us.
“My lady. Lieutenant,” Wolfe addressed us. I saw weariness in the back of his eyes. We were all a little tired today. It had been especially hot. “This is Jac Dena. And this is the village of Woodmill. Jac owns the largest lumber establishment in northern Sabithia.”
Jac grinned proudly and nodded his head at me. “Nice to make your acquaintance, my lady.”
I nodded, too tired to find an appropriate response.
“Jac has graciously invited Lady Rogan and Lieutenant Chaeron to stay with him and his family. He will prevail upon the rest of the village to give the Guard shelter for the night.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dena,” I said gratefully. I was desperate for food and sleep. “That’s extremely kind of you.”
“Oh, not at all, not at all, my lady.” He gave me a slight bow. “We are honored to offer hospitality to the Royal Guard and the Handmaiden of Phaedra.”
I glared at Wolfe. Damn him repeating that stupid nickname.
He smirked unrepentantly back at me.
I found myself seated at a sturdy table, in a cozy kitchen, with wonderful aromas that made my stomach clench in anticipation. Lieutenant Chaeron sat beside me, looking as weary as I felt.
Jac’s home wasn’t overly large, but it was comfortably furnished, and it appeared as though his family had everything they needed. His wife, a pretty, petite woman, stammered in my presence (bloody Wolfe) and flittered around us like a wee butterfly. Jac sat at the head of the table, and after arguing quite profusely, I settled across from his two sons instead of at the other end of the table where Mrs. Dena normally sat and where they’d insisted I sit in her stead. However, I would never dream of entering someone else’s home only to act like an overbearing, superior kralovna.
Mrs. Dena finally took a seat and we served ourselves. I became uncomfortably aware of the Denas’ two sons staring at me. My cheeks flushed under their scrutiny. The eldest, Jac Junior, was around my age, the youngest, Leon, perhaps Haydyn’s. I had never before been the target of such open attention, and I squirmed in my seat. From the corner of my eye, I saw Chaeron grip his knife a little too tightly.
Thankfully, Jac cut through the tension by asking questions about Silvera. I tried my best to answer them graciously. After all, they had opened their home to strangers, and I was more than thankful to be off my horse for a while. I’m sure Midnight was equally thankful.
I