The Lost Queen (Book 1 of The Lost Queen Series)

Chapter Sixteen

One day slipped into the next as they made their way toward Baromund.

Kai kept to himself, only grunting responses when asked a question, and often slipping away into the trees when they stopped for the night.

And every night while Kai disappeared, Seraiah practiced trying to focus her visions using Sterling's book. So far, nothing she tried had been successful. She couldn't summon a vision when she was awake, nor did she dream once she fell asleep.

Maybe I should be grateful, she thought, setting the book aside for the night and pinching the bridge of her nose to relieve her headache. The nightmare hadn't returned, and neither had any dreams about strange beasts. Maybe she should take it as a sign that Sterling wasn't in immediate danger.

Seraiah didn't feel reassured.

The next morning, they had only been traveling for about an hour when she noticed a change in the air. At first, she thought it was her imagination. Wishful thinking, maybe.

She no longer felt the need to pull her cloak close around her to ward off the cold. In fact, she almost felt too warm. When Kai unclasped his own cloak as they rode, and stuffed it into his saddlebag, she knew the rising temperature hadn't been her imagination.

He noticed her watching. "We're close to the edge of the forest now," he said. "And then maybe two more days until we reach Baromund."

Seraiah tried to picture Baromund on the maps she'd seen in Lady Zahara's library, but kept coming up blank. The only city she remembered was the capital, far down to the south.

"Finally," Kestrel spoke from in front of her. It was her turn to share her horse with Seraiah. "I need to see the sun again. I'm sick of being cold all the time."

Seraiah couldn't stop the snort that slipped out.

Kai raised an eyebrow at her.

"I'm the one who should be sick of the cold. Do you have any idea what it's like to live stuck in winter for five years?" She heard her voice rise with every word, but she didn't care.

"The people we spoke to mentioned it had been a few years, but I assumed they meant two, maybe three at most. Not five," Kestrel said.

"We try not to think about it, but it's been five—almost six years now. Never able to shake the cold that's seeped into your bones. Never seeing flowers bloom. The fresh food slowly disappeared until only the wealthy have access. Our once thriving market is now dead because of the snows blocking the mountain pass, and no one is daring enough to make the journey through the woods. Add in the fever and half the population of Ratha is dead. We have little hope left, and if you think about all those things too long, it makes it hard to go on."

She felt the hot prick of tears behind her eyes. It took my step-mother, she thought, but didn't say aloud. It didn't matter that Jensira had lied about where she was from and who she really was. It didn't matter that she could have helped Seraiah with her visions and explained what she was, but chose not to.

Jensira was the only mother Seraiah had ever known.

She took a deep breath and blinked the tears away. It wasn't like her to rant about things out of her control. She was the level-headed one who didn't complain about much and kept everything together, even in the face of her world falling apart. She was the one everyone relied on—especially when Mama passed—while Sterling was the one who was as quick to anger as she was to cry or laugh.

With all the events and new information overwhelming her, her emotions felt raw and close to the surface. Sometimes it felt like she was on the edge of a cliff and one push would send her tumbling down to a place Seraiah wasn't sure she could pull herself out of—and she didn't think she wanted to stop it either. It was only the thought of Sterling, scared and alone, that kept her moving.