The White Sheep's Disguise ✓

Chapter 48

Another two weeks have come and gone. Acting as a set of guards rather than a simple escort back to Gudgeon Docks, Gustus and Cloak fly me back to the edge of the village early in the morning, before the sun has risen and the entire world will know someone is fast approaching.

Gustus eases the dragon down into a meadow on the outskirts of the village, a small patch of freedom before the woods take over, separating my village from others and the Flower Foothills, a staple in the Farm Territory. Branches crack and weave, attempting to avoid the strong beat of wings bearing down on the land, but the sound of crashing brushwood is a welcome sound compared to the argument I had to endure on the way here.

Nothing that involved me—or anything important. Apparently, Cloak and Gustus have a strong difference when it comes to desserts. The latter prefers crepes with a sweet custard, and Cloak, on the other hand, would rather choose a dessert on the savory side. Nestled in between them, I listened to their bickering. Most of it included how something savory can't be a dessert, Cloak came back with, "Your gut can't tell the difference with the amount of sugar you ingest already."

That comment nearly started a brawl on a dragon in mid-flight if it wasn't for me reaching around and pinching Gustus's side as hard as I could until he yelped and promised to keep quiet. For hundreds of years spread between them, they behave like children.

It snowed last night. White flecks stick to the earth and cover the trees, weighing down the pine needles and bare branches. One set of prints cuts through the clean surface, heading towards the village and disappearing into the streets, rounding a corner that appears to lead into a butcher's shop. Crates and boxes that sat out all night, underneath the awning of a supply hold, are frozen. Flakes expand across the wood, sparkling against the rising sun that will soon thaw my home. The snow will melt from rooftops and ice, upon seeing the orb of heat raise its sword in challenge, will slither into the shadows and hide until night.

The large dragon, one of Theo's most obedient beasts, lowers her head to the ground. I place my hand against the side of her scaled neck, then grip onto an ash brown horn to guide myself the rest of the way. She huffs a deep sigh underneath her breath as if she's annoyed with the simplest of grazes.

Turning to face both princes, I know a lecture is coming before either of them opens their mouth. Both cross their arms over their chests, blocking any attempt I might make to break through their icy exteriors, and Cloak glances around like he's searching for more than dandelions in the small meadow. I see right through his secrets.

"I know it's hard to reach the palace when you're this far away, but I've taken the liberty of contacting your foreman, Ocanthio," Gustus says. "If you are to come to any harm, or if any beast decides you are a target against their rage, you are to go to him. I paid for transport in a carriage, guarded by those that work in the next village north."

To copy their movements, I cross my arms and puff out my chest. "That's not necessary," I clip, feeling a bit nauseated by the thought of the lengths Gustus is going to. "But I appreciate the effort. I doubt I'll require this—"

"Well, if you do." Cloak looks me up and down, eyes flecking to my chest. Looking for the pendant he has yet to make. A symbol best to hand out while everyone is watching, including Rylan, so they know the worth of what hangs from a leather cord.

He uncoils and attempts to ease the need to kill curdling in his stomach. Rylan will not arrive this morning, I am sure of that, but revealing that to the prince will only make him look harder for someone that doesn't wish to face a blow to the nose. And that's the least of what Cloak or Gustus will do.

Gustus forced Theo to stay at the palace. Out of everyone, Cloak included, he's the one that stands to lose the most if he steps out of line. He's not an official Terravale and marrying one doesn't ensure the lack of consequences when killing a lowly guard at the kingdom's most resourceful docks. Though the Raven Queen would be more than happy to see Rylan's head on a stake, the order must come from me. And me alone.