Prince of Traitors

Kieran

"But I want to help!"

"You're staying here, and that's the last I'll hear of it."

Nimia glares at me, though her little face isn't very frightening. She crosses her skinny arms over her ribs. "Why do I have to stay?"

I turn and gesture to the firelight dotting the night. "Those camps are filled with Astrian soldiers. It's too dangerous for you to be there," I say. She opens her mouth to respond, but I interrupt her. "I'm scouting ahead, and you are staying here and out of trouble. Do you understand?"

Nimia sighs heavily, her shoulders slumping. "Fine," she says.

"Keep your bow and knife at the ready, Nim," I say. "Don't light a fire, and don't move a muscle. I'll be back soon. If you move from this spot, I'll wring your little neck, you got it?"

She sticks her tongue out at me. "I got it, dummy."

*

As I venture closer to the encampment, I lapse into the silent, watching stillness of the hunt. The night hides me as I stalk close by the tents of soldiers.

There's a large mess tent and several smaller ones set up with blacksmithing stations and armories, as well as infirmary tents and sleeping quarters for the soldiers. Men—and a few women, surprisingly—mill around the camp, mostly going to or from the mess tent set up to one side.

The clatter of armor and the raucous laughter of the soldiers reach my ears. Staying low in the brush, I creep closer. The Astrian soldiers are on low alert, unaware of anything outside their settlement. There are maybe a hundred of them that I can see from my hiding place, all walking between the tents or standing around with their ale and meat. The tents are lit with torches, stuck into the dirt, and forming a sort of barrier around the camp.

Something glints in the firelight and catches my eye. I spot silver hair on a tall figure and peer closer at the scene.

The tall figure is young, with willowy, muscled limbs clad in the plain tunic and trousers of a soldier. The silver hair is braided back and long. The person turns, and I recognize her.

Her name is Edin. She is one of our tribe's best warriors, easily six feet tall and all wiry muscle. She'd been at home when I'd left a few months ago—what is she doing here?

Edin picks up an apple from a basket and unsheathes a knife at her hip. She crosses out of the circle of torches and walks behind one of the tents. She slices into the apple with her knife with a sigh.

I watch as Edin leans back against a tent pole and eats her apple. I eye the soldiers near her, but they don't seem to pay her any mind.

I sneak toward her and whistle softly. Her head perks up and her silver eyes find mine.

"Kieran?" she says, keeping her voice quiet. "What are you doing here?"

"I came south looking for Owin," I reply. "I didn't know you'd be here."

Edin frowns. "It was come fight for Astria or let them take Derec He's only fourteen, I couldn't let him fight."

I grimace. "Damn bastards."

"Well, what about you? Have you had any luck in your search for Owin?" she asks, quickly switching the subject away from her stepson back home.

I shake my head. "Not yet." Edin frowns and claps a hand on my shoulder.

"You'll find her," she says. "I'm sure of it."

"Oi! Navaarim!" Someone calls for her from within the camp. I slink away from her, back into the shadow of the trees. A soldier comes and collects Edin, and she turns back toward the camp and walks into the firelight of the torches, pretending she never saw me.