Thorne led us through the last of Owin's streets toward Castle Moer. As we traveled, I focused on the city's wares rather than its people, their stark fortunes too prominent to bear when only ten steps away their brethren scraped and starved.
An emerald stall held a woman with iridescently scaled skin across one side of her face. There she offered tightly woven reed baskets from the Vann Glades. Next to her, an Alharelian man dressed in layers of purple and sunflower yellow sold brass sculptures that sang when struck. Down the road, a stall hung miniatures of mountain lions, bears, and wolves from its awning. One with fur painted black and a slouched ear panged my heart as the proprietor demonstrated its mechanics by manipulating its strings.
Anxiety skittered over my skin as we inched closer to Castle Moer. Our outfits drew more attention from the citizens than our leathers had, inviting people to stop and gape as we passed on horseback. "Do your people know their prince is to marry their enemy?" I asked Thorne, determining how alert I should be.
"They're not my people." The metal of his helm muffled the natural gravel of his voice, but not his irritation. "And no, I don't think the castle has announced their intentions yet."
My gaze bounced from one gawking face to the next, my hand firm on the bag of weapons Thorne had strapped to the mare. "Then why do they stare?"
"You may be dressed in Dorsi tradition, but there is nothing traditional about you, Your Highness."
"Excuse me?"
He kept his head forward, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "You look ethereal, Your Highness. Like Eyr, herself, approaches."
In front of me on the saddle, Liv's silent amusement lifted her shoulders, but the sound never escaped.
"Don't do that," I said to Thorne, wrapping my finger around a loose curl at my collarbone.
"Do what?"
"Be nice; it's suspicious. We've had a perfectly fine rivalry going and I'd hate to upset the balance."
He chuckled. "A rivalry implies parity amongst its participants, Your Highness." When I didn't reply, he took my silence for incomprehension, adding, "Parity is when two or more people are considered eq—"
"I know what parity means," I snapped, imparting a blinding glare that only served to fuel Thorne's hubris.
"Ask and you shall receive," teased Liv.
We navigated the uneven street, my brain trying to come up with some quippy retort fully knowing the time had long since passed. Truthfully, I was happy for the distraction. It kept my mind off our impending arrival. Too many blaring questions bounced around in my head, begging to be acknowledged. What would I do when we got there? How would the royals receive us? What if they refused me? How would I find the man responsible for Arin's murder? What if I'm not able to figure it out?
You're smart, Hana, you can do this. All you need is some evidence: a travel journal or some sort of manifest, a courtier with a loose tongue, a guard with a looser belt...
Someone somewhere in the castle had to know something about the hooded man and his Dorsi guard which meant I needed to start a little reconnaissance.
"Lord Thorne, why do the people part for you, but not for the soldiers walking the streets?"
"You mean besides their primordial fear of being stomped to death by a horse?"
YOU ARE READING
All's Fair in Revenge
FantasyComplete! Hana is the daughter of a renowned healer in the raiding village of Srisset but she would much rather stab someone than mend them, she'd rather fight on the front line than stand behind it, and she'd much rather gut the Dorsi soldier who k...
