The Midnight Storm (A New Dawn #2)

Chapter 37 - Sebastian

Sebastian took a breath, a breath like he hadn't taken in moons. He stirred with eagerness, with the fresh air that filled his lungs and the cool breeze that ruffled his flattened hair. He didn't care about the green uniform sticking to his skin, instead embraced the drizzle coming from the skies. With every clop of the black stallion's hooves, every turn of the grey wooden wheels of Prince River's waggon, the white towers of Sunstone Castle shrunk until they had completely disappeared. The invisible shackles around his wrists loosened. No faint clanging of alarm bells in the distance, no riders chasing him. Free... at last.

Funny how easy it had been to get out of the castle with a powerful ally on the inside. Everything had worked according to Captain Jonathan's plan, from him throwing the biggest fit in the history of fits to chase Lady Viviane out of his chamber, to the old Captain fetching him with a bag of supplies over his shoulder. None of the usual Lieutenants guarding the halls had halted or questioned their superior. Why would they have? There had been nothing strange about him strolling through the castle with the Captain, receiving a lecture on the army bases alongside the border. River's departure had been an hour away.

After taking the largest possible detour, they had arrived at the tunnel leading to the stable where a pock-faced Lieutenant with braids for hair had replaced the current guard, a man with a permanent scowl on his face. Captain Jonathan had tossed Pockface a bag of coin, barking that—if questioned—he hadn't seen their Crown Prince all morning. 

Scowlface had been part of the scheme, introduced to him as the newly appointed Lieutenant Bart, Nick's old Patrol Leader. While Sebastian had changed into a regular uniform, two chipper lads of patrol seventeen had joined him in the tunnel, one brown-haired and one blond-haired soldier not much older than him. Dan and Eric. The other two supposed rascals that Bart had to escort to the base at Whitepeak. The two had assured him they would keep Nick—their Nicky—occupied on their way to the border.

Not that keeping Nick occupied had been a challenge, or hard work, for that matter. A single book in a strange language for the blind had done the trick to knock his friend out with a nasty bout of carriage sickness. As long as he was bellyaching as if he were dying from the plague, Sebastian didn't have to worry about Nick taking one of the cawing ravens from the cage in the back of the waggon to write Uncle Tom.

"Ian." Dan held a bloated goatskin in his outstretched hand. "Wanna drink?"

It took Sebastian a few blinks to realise the soldier meant him. 

Then without saying anything, he gave the stallion a soft kick and closed the distance between them. Still riding, he grabbed the goatskin and set it to his lips. After moons of drinking the purest juices, the fanciest teas, table ale, or fruit infused water, the ordinariness of the liquid was a blessing of the Goddess of Temperance.

Murmuring a quick thanks, he returned the goatskin, then slowed the horse down. As he retreated to his position at the right-back wheel of the waggon, he focussed on the road ahead, looking past River's gaze.

The man darted a few glances that turned into increasing longer stares. If there were any issues, Sebastian would remind the Prince he was Ician, and that the Icians knew nothing, saw nothing, and heard nothing. Foreign politics, diplomacy, and Uncle Tom be damned—this mission was important.

A high-pitched yip came from his left.

Sebastian bounced up high. He landed back in the saddle with a painful bang, missing the cadence of the horse's trot. From underneath the tarred canvas of the waggon poked Bear's furry white head, a playful spark in his marble eyes and in his mouth a piece of shredded, half-eaten paper. After some squirming and the scratching of nails, the pup placed his paws on the sideboard.