Faramund, Guardian of Celeibra's prince Alcaeus, only cares about two things: keeping his prince safe and following the rules. With Alcaeus' rule in jeopardy, a bumbling mage failing at spying seems the least of his problems -- at least until the ma...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The arrow came free from the rabbit's carcass after a sickening twist. Channary hated this. The blood. The way her reflection stared back from its dead eyes. She took a shaky breath and checked the arrow's tip. It glistened with blood, new and old. The tip remained intact. Usable. She returned the arrow to Phirun's quiver across her back. She had to re-use what she could. She was lucky she'd had the captain's bag when Lani...
Lani.
Channary took another deep breath and grabbed the rabbit. Skinning it was a step she hadn't yet been able to take. She'd tried. One cut in and she vomited. The disgust was the only thing quelling her rumbling stomach. She wasn't that hungry yet. She tied the rabbit with her other successes across a long stick she'd found. One bird, two squirrels, and three rabbits. Now four rabbits.
She pushed herself to her feet. This should be enough to get a bed and a real meal — one where she didn't have to see the blood or hear it cry as it died. She fixed the arrow back to her bag before slinging her kills over her shoulder. Channary glanced at her fingertips, coated with a mix of blood and dirt. Filthy. She brushed the oil and sweat from her brow. Disgusting.
It was difficult to keep her feet steady. Her whole body ached, hungered, and thirsted. Phirun had intended to go to Beilan to resupply. Now she'd go there herself. Channary clenched her jaws. Tola had mentioned meeting "the princess"...this imposter — who was she? How long had they claimed her identity? Had Lani and Phirun known? The thought infuriated her. Her fists tightened.
How long had she dreamt of returning home? To the comfort of the castle? To a warm bed, grand meals, and adorning staff? That life was her right. It had already been stolen from her once.
She sure as hell wasn't losing it again.
Or anything else.
***
Relief washed over her once Beilan was in sight, followed by a wave of revulsion. The city was built of stone and stacked — far different than the Sisteen trees that defined their home. It'd been an experiment at the time, taking inspiration from their western neighbors. They'd even offered guidance on the construction. These buildings didn't burn and endured the storm season far better.
Of course, that'd been far before they'd known their western neighbors would come to conquer them. She kept her head down under her hood as she approached, walking with apprehension. One hand tightened on her kills while the other clung tight to the blade on her belt. Holding her breath, she strode under the entrance's archway. Channary eyed every sight with suspicion, as if it was enemy territory. It was hard to know who was really Nelucian anymore.
The city was a popular trade post, resulting in crowds mixed of many different cultures. Though this made it hard to identify only her people, it worked to her advantage. Few Nelucians were natural blondes, especially as light as hers. Among the number of northern traders, she blended in. No one paid her any mind. Her prizes were small compared to the men carrying larger boars or deer across their shoulders. Others hauled a collection of pelts, or heavy construction materials for across town. She felt small in comparison. Her fingers tightened on her blade and she kept her gaze dark. No one would be robbing her today.
