the cave entrance, ready for some betrayal, but the singer was already spreading out her blankets. She lay a couple of water skins beside them, along with more bread and a collection of nuts. “You must be hungry,” she said, as Aurora stepped inside. “Eat. Slowly.”
Aurora had almost forgotten the pain in her stomach after the horror of the day. She tore off a small piece of bread and bit into it. It was slightly stale, and the effort of chewing made her jaw ache. It had to be the most delicious thing she had ever eaten.
She sank against the side of the cave, and her calves throbbed in relief. She kicked off her bloodstained shoes.
“Your feet,” Nettle said. “They need attention.”
“They’ll be fine,” Aurora said. “I’m just—I’m not used to walking.”
“Certainly not in wedding shoes. May I?” Nettle gripped Aurora’s ankle and studied her sole. Aurora refused to look. She knew they were a mess, from the pain with every step and the stains on the inside of her shoes. She did not want to see for herself.
If it was bad, Nettle’s face did not show it. “I am going to fetch some more water to clean this,” she said. “We must hope it is not infected. Be careful while I am gone.”
Aurora watched her step out of the cave. Her feet throbbed, already too swollen to fit back into her shoes, and a headache pounded behind her eyes. She would fight if she needed to fight, but she could not run before she knew it was necessary.
When Nettle returned, she knelt beside Aurora again and pulled a worn dress from her pack. With one sharp motion, she tore a shred from the bottom edge.
“Your dress!” Aurora said.
“I have others,” Nettle said, her expression unchanged. She swept her hair over one shoulder and dabbed the rag in the water. Aurora hissed as it touched her blisters. Nettle worked in silence, each movement gentle. When she had finished, she tilted her head, studying her handiwork. “We should bind this,” she said. “To keep it clean. It will make it easier for you to walk too.” She tore another strip from the dress and began to wrap it around Aurora’s foot, ignoring her hiss of pain. Once she had tied it tight, she turned her attention to the other foot.
“Tell me,” she said, as she wet another strip. “What is it that you plan to do now?”
“I assume you want me to go to Vanhelm.”
“Finnegan would like you to,” Nettle said. “I have no preference, as long as you are safe.”
“And why do you care?”
“I know what it is like, Princess, to go running out here alone. Finnegan can take care of his own affairs. But am I wondering: what do you intend to do?”
Aurora swallowed and rested her head against the cave wall. “I don’t know,” she said. That was the hardest thing to admit, that she had run without any idea what running would really be like. She had rejected two offers of support, from Finnegan and from the witch Celestine, and she had run out into the world without a goal, without a destination, with nothing in her mind but being elsewhere. “I only know I can’t stay here.”
“No,” Nettle said. “You cannot.”
There was Falreach, across the mountains. Her mother’s kingdom. The court there might have helped her, if it had not once been Queen Iris’s home. Then there were the farther kingdoms, Palir or Eko or beyond, but they were thousands of miles away. Too far to walk, and although they might be a good place to hide, she would never find support.
And then Vanhelm, the dragon kingdom across the sea. Prince Finnegan had pledged his support, but could she trust him to help her? He had never been entirely honest with her.
“Why aren’t you encouraging me to go to Vanhelm, if you work for Finnegan?”
“I bring him information,” Nettle said, “not people. Watching you was already an unusual task for me, although I was glad to do it. And do not doubt I will tell Finnegan what you choose to do. But I will not force you into anything.”
Nettle began to bandage the second foot. Already, Aurora felt better, calmer. She pulled her necklace out from under her dress. The dragon pendant had its wings unfurled, one leg poised as though about to take flight. A blood-red jewel glinted in its eye. She twisted it between her fingertips, as though it might carry the answer. “Do