The War of Queens

Chapter 70

Evelyn

 The hunters ran over the needle-covered, sloping ground of the forest with an almost air-like ease. Their bare feet moved and turned and angled themselves after the ground’s shape, making almost no noise as they ran after the animal. Compared to them, Evelyn’s feet - covered with leather shoes, as her skin was not as tough as the natives’ - were clumsy and noisy. In this landscape, without her horse and her bow, Evelyn was no great hunter.

 But she tried. She watched with sharp eyes every movement that her husband’s people made as they ran.

 “Evelyn,” a breathy voice called out. “Here. This way.”

 She found Saqui standing on top of a low, flat stone just beyond a tree, waiting for Evelyn to catch up.

 “Quick,” she urged, not impatiently.

 Evelyn turned in her direction and followed her as she leaped off the stone. Evelyn’s breathing was already turning to pants and the cold air made her throat sore. It felt almost as though every breath ripped up an old wound in her throat, and she hissed with pain when her foot caught a stray root. She wanted to ask Saqui to stop, but she could not bring herself to do so.

 Keep going, she ordered herself. Don’t be weak. Nothing is achieved by giving up.

 It was hard, though, and only made harder by the fact that she knew that, here, she was weak. She could not have survived on her own. She had learned this quickly after Saqui had been tasked with training her to this sort of life.

 Saqui was strong. At the court of Etheron, she would have been dishonored or dead within days, but here, in the mountains, she was strong. Her limbs were trained, especially her legs. She ate like a soldier would. Her shoulders were wider than Evelyn’s, and she was taller, even at the age of seventeen. Her face was rectangular and bony, with a straight nose and thin lips, surrounded by a thick mane of dark, tough hair.

 It was her hair that Evelyn could see, a few feet ahead of her. It bounced with each step that she took, wind flowing through it. Casting a glance back, Saqui sped up, unaware of Evelyn’s struggles to keep up.

 Evelyn forced herself to run quicker, even if her legs trembled, even if her hands hurt from clenching against the pain. Her head hurt, too, and her eyes prickled with tears. Maybe the tears were the reason for her unclear vision. She coughed and hissed, and the taste of iron filled her mouth.

 She had tasted this before, during her first marriage, often. The first time was when her husband had asked her to kiss his arrow, to give him luck on his hunt. He had caught a boar. The next time was a month later, when he hit her for the first time. Blood had filled her mouth and it had tasted like that spear’s edge.

 “Wait,” she pleaded, but Saqui was now too far ahead. Evelyn sobbed with exhaustion as she pressed on, pressed herself to move faster. Don’t be silly, she told herself. If Saqui can run, so can you. Don’t be weak.

 Her foot caught in something. With a shriek, she stopped to regain her balance. Black spots appeared before her eyes. She closed them, and then the world started turning and twisting, as though she were on a ship’s deck in a storm.

 When she her eyes again to reassure herself that she was standing on firm ground, she found the trees turning, twisting around her, the sun too strong as it cut through the branches. She looked down, away, and the ground came leaping up at her. The skin of her knees tore open when they scratched against the stones, her hands flailed to stop her head from falling, too. They hit the dirt, clenching around a handful of it.