she did not possess in the moment. Raul had sensed the change in her mood, because he loosened his embrace. “Come,” he said. “We’ll eat our supper and head north. Then we can talk with our queen.”
* * *
WITHIN TWO HOURS, they had crossed the river by the nearest fording and left Emmetz behind for the rain-wet fields beyond. They marched in single file along a muddy goat track, which rose slowly from the riverbanks to the lower slopes of the northern hills. The company kept to an easy pace, with frequent stops, but Raul did not call a halt until several hours later, when they had gained the edge of a pine and oak forest.
The guards went to work at once to set up their new camp, fetching water and deadwood, stretching lengths of canvas to make shelters. Ilse leaned against a tree trunk, overtaken by weariness. The moon had set an hour before. Far to the east, the first pale bands of dawn showed, but the river valley below was overrun with shadows. The air smelled fresh and cool, with a foretelling of rain.
“Do we go on tomorrow?” she asked Raul.
“Not until we talk with your queen,” he said. “I want to make certain we agree on the essentials.”
One of the guards approached. Raul turned away. Ilse listened to them discuss the watch rotation. She rubbed her palms against her eyes. The brief spurt of joy at seeing Raul had faded hours ago, during the long march into the hills. She had not removed the reason for their separation. She had merely changed the direction of their plans. What came next depended on Valara Baussay.
Raul and the guard were still deep in conversation. Ilse took herself to the edge of camp. Galena and Valara had disappeared. Another guard, Ada Geiss, told Ilse that Galena had volunteered to dig latrines. Valara had retired into her tent for the night. Ada’s expression was bland, but Ilse caught a hint of amusement in her voice, and she wondered just what Valara had said or done to provoke that.
Most likely she was herself.
She asked where she ought to sleep, and Ada pointed her to Raul’s tent. It was the largest of the camp, with a portable writing desk in the corner and a small metal box layered in spells, a miniature of the one he used in Tiralien. Several packs stowed in one corner. Two mattresses, she noted, both made from blankets tucked around pine branches.
On the bed to her left, someone had laid out clean clothes and other necessary items, all of them sized for Ilse. Next to the bed she found her old gear from Tiralien—leather armor, wrist sheaths, even the metal helmet she used for weapons drill on those days when Benedikt Ault pushed her exceptionally hard. I love him, she thought. All over again. He does not come to rescue me. He comes to deliver me weapons.
Ilse changed into a new shirt and trousers, and lay down on her pine mattress. The crushed scent of needles reminded her of magic’s green scent. Magic, that rare and dangerous current, and yet the ordinary world was filled with reminders of its presence. Crushed grass, the tang of forests, the rich perfume of new blossomed wildflowers. Was it, as the old scholars insisted, only a matter of setting your gaze in the right direction? And if that were true, why were so many blind to it?
Rain pattered against the tent ceiling, a rhythmic tap-tapping that emptied her thoughts. Eventually, she slept.
* * *
SHE DREAMED OF rain drumming against canvas, against doors and windowpanes. Gradually the rain faded away and she walked in silence through dreams of a milk-white palace. Narrow windows showed a night sky salted with stars. Snow hushed against the stone walls outside. And everywhere hung the scent of magic.
A prince of Károví sat opposite her, his lean dark face intent upon the book between them. It is a matter of discipline, he said.
His eyes were large and bright, like a bird’s. He wore a ruby in one ear, a sapphire set into his cheek. She touched the smaller emerald in her own cheek. Its presence chafed, but she willed away these thoughts and concentrated on the text, an antique volume that one of the diplomats from the Erythandran Court had brought as a gift to her, in recognition of her position as the affianced bride to the Károvín heir. She had showed it to Leos because she respected