The Iron Crown

2: Florin

The sun was beginning to brush the horizon when Florin finally found himself back on an actual road. The weathered cobbles had been cleared, snow piled up against crumbling stone walls. Oil lanterns hung suspended from posts, their golden shine flowing across the ice like rivers. They couldn't have been far, then, from some form of settlement. He urged Willow forwards, the clop-clap-clop of her hooves like thunder in the stillness. The blizzard had mostly blown itself out, only a few stray snowflakes waltzing through the air to settle on his cheeks. With the storm, so too had vanished the hounds; their howling had faded soon after he'd set off again.

Florin clicked his tongue, and while Willow tossed her head, his mare broke into a steady gallop. If they followed the road, they would almost certainly find somewhere to stead for the night. It seemed as though his prayers had, at long last, been answered; he hadn't expected to find a main road for at least another few days, and if the hounds had lost his scent, then he may even be able to spend more than just the night resting. He had a little coin to spare, perhaps he could even have a warm meal, maybe even a bath. The idea of living like an actual person after the last month of travelling had his heart fluttering, and he encouraged Willow to move a little faster.

It wasn't long until the light of the setting sun was joined by the warmth of windows flush with firelight. It was little more than a small log cabin, one story with an adjoining deck covered with an awning. A horse – a striking black stallion – had been left beneath it with a manger of hay. Its chimney spewed white smoke, and as he approached, the scent of cooking meat washed over him. Not an inn, and definitely not a village. He hesitated to slow Willow, but still tugged on her reins, forcing her to a trot. Small lodges such as these usually belonged to hunters or were waypoints for guards sent out to investigate disturbances in the settlements outside the city walls. Rarely would they take travellers, and if it was a waypoint for guards, then this would get very ugly very quickly. If he kept riding, then he would eventually find somewhere more likely to let him rest, but under the cover of night if the hounds caught his scent again, he would have nowhere to hide. One look at the darkening sky had Florin slipping from his mare's back. He twisted her reigns around his hand, leading her up a set of creaking wooden steps.

The stallion paid him no mind as he tied his horse up beside it, barely glancing in his direction. It was a fine horse, huge and muscular with a glossy coat. Its mane and tail were both cut short, reminding him of the horses that the nobles would ride, back in the city. Its saddle and reins were similarly impressive, both embroidered with golden thread. Florin inched a little closer, inspecting the detailing; dozens of eyes, both closed and open, placed without rhyme or reason. The stallion snorted, and Florin flinched back as its head swung around to face him. Deep brown eyes stared into his own. It flicked its tail and then turned back to watching the road. Florin let out a shaky breath, doing his best to calm his racing pulse.

At least Willow seemed glad of the shelter; his horse whinnied and busied herself burying her nose in the hay. Florin smiled, patting her neck. Perhaps he could just stay out here, for the night. The awning would provide enough cover from the elements, and he could probably find somewhere to safely get a fire going. It would be easier to hear the hounds, make his escape if they did find him. The smile slipped from his lips as, behind him, the decking creaked.

"Hands where I can see them," the voice was startlingly close. Florin's arms snapped up, letting his sleeves drop round his wrists to show them he was unarmed. "Turn around." He did as he was told, mouth dry and throat tight.

The girl was around his age, bright blue eyes and full lips painted across her pale, pinched, face like some kind of China doll. She was dressed for travel, woollen jumper and thick linen trousers almost completely swallowed in the shadow of a heavy fur cloak. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun, to keep it out of her eyes. She licked her lips, finger twitching on the trigger of the cross-bow currently pointed at his chest. Florin swallowed.