The Spymaster’s Prize: A Fantasy Romance Tale (Artisan Magic Book 2)
The Spymaster’s Prize: Chapter 28

“You’ll have no provisions, save water,” Gaius said as he led Elia through the palace halls. “You must ride as light as possible. Food will be available whenever you switch horses.”

Elia nodded. She had already changed into lighter garments, her new skirt divided like the old to make riding easier, but this one bore pockets. Both Thea and the king had been concerned about the cold until she showed them the simple wooden ring. He’d insisted on having an artificer examine it and she had been loath to remove it, but the artificer had both confirmed its safety and praised the quality of the artisan magic carved into its plain shape.

Its existence had also inspired the king to retrieve an artifact from his storerooms for the rider who would accompany her, though he admitted its effect was not as great. That Kentoria’s ruler would have a number of mage-made trinkets at his disposal made sense, yet Elia had never thought about what might be hidden away in the palace storerooms and treasury before that moment. Whatever he’d chosen for the rider who would accompany her, he carried it now.

“As I’ve said, my finest endurance horses will be at your disposal as you cross Kentoria,” the king went on. “Once you cross into Nylmeres, I cannot guarantee the performance of what animals you can replace, but your escort knows how to choose. Coin is too dangerous to send, so you will be provided with letters of guarantor allowing you to use my resources to purchase whatever is necessary.”

“So my adventure begins and ends the same way,” Elia muttered.

He glanced her way. “Pardon?”

“With the promise of someone else’s money in my pocket.” So much had transpired, she almost didn’t remember what she’d done with her father’s letter. How different would things have been if she’d reached Vinson’s house that day, where Peretor was supposed to be? The thought of her friend put a bitter taste in the back of her throat. After everything she’d been through, she still did not know if he was safe.

“Not entirely correct, I would imagine,” Gaius said. He paused at the door and offered a reassuring smile. “Namely because I don’t believe this is the end.”

She dared to meet his eyes and he clasped her shoulder in a show of support before he escorted her outside.

A pair of horses waited in the stable yard, both saddled and ready. Thea stood with a cluster of guards, ready to see them off, and when she saw the other rider beside them, her stomach sank. “Romaric?”

Her brother flashed her a nervous smile. “Are you sure about this, El?”

She’d never been so certain of something she had to do, yet anxiety over the decision surged within her. “I’m terrified.”

“You can be frightened and still certain,” the king said as they joined the group. “Oftentimes, certainty over a situation is precisely what makes it frightening.”

“I’m sure I have to do it,” Elia said, “but not about how things will go.”

Romaric’s smile softened into something a little more earnest. “None of us are.”

Thea stepped forward to offer each of them a hug. The king pressed some sort of amulet into Romaric’s hand with murmured instructions to put it on. Given how light Romaric’s clothing was, he would soon appreciate it as much as Elia appreciated her ring.

“Mount up,” Gaius ordered as he put an arm around Thea’s waist and stepped back, drawing her with him. “May the Light shine over you.”

“And you,” Elia repeated. No one stepped forward to offer assistance, so she climbed into the saddle on her own. Beside her, Romaric nodded.

There were no more words to share, and her brother took the lead.

Guards opened the gates to turn them loose and the horses walked the city at a brisk clip.

“Bet you’re glad for all our riding lessons now,” Romaric said as they neared Samara’s edge.

“I am, but I have to say I didn’t expect the rider going with me would be you.” If Elia were honest with herself, she was thankful. Tense as their last encounter had been, there were few she trusted as deeply as her brothers, and the king was right—if anyone knew horses well enough to get her to the heart of Nylmeres, it was Romaric.

“King’s request.” Her brother grinned, though it didn’t brighten his eyes. “He didn’t have time to explain everything, and I’m afraid we may not have much time to talk. I want the whole story when we get home, understand?”

Elia touched a hand to her chest. “Of course. The whole story and a maple cake.”

“Now that’s a deal. Let’s go.” He let out a whoop as they reached the open air beyond the city limits and kicked his horse into a hard canter.

She followed his lead, leaning forward over her horse’s neck as she gave him his head and squeezed with her knees, floating just above the saddle so the beast could move unhindered.

Together, they flew.

The city slipped away behind them as their mounts broke from the steady three-beat glide to a full gallop, hooves thundering through the snow. She hadn’t ridden so hard in years, but the animal beneath her was responsive and smooth, stripping away her fear of the journey and leaving only fear of what awaited them at the end.

When they reached a wide trade road, marked by deep ruts from wagon wheels, Romaric slowed. Elia’s horse did the same without needing any command.

“Can’t do that for too long,” he said as she drew her horse up beside his. “Don’t want to tire them out prematurely, but it’s good to get the worst out of the way.”

“The worst of what?”

“That icy wind. Thank all the goodness in the Light that we’ve got those charms from the king, or I don’t know how we’d get through the mountains in this cold.” He touched the amulet that hung around his neck.

From the king. Right. She stroked the surface of the ring with her thumb. It had already changed from her doing that, the natural oils of her skin leaving the surface burnished. “What about the horses?”

“Ah, don’t worry about them. They’ll be working too hard to get cold.” He kept them going at a steady trot for some time, then walked the horses for a while before they cantered some more.

Elia knew how far a good horse could run before it grew weary and she questioned Romaric’s choice to set a hard pace, but he’d been chosen for a reason, and she made the decision to simply let him lead. He cycled their gaits steadily but relentlessly, and just as the horses began to show signs of fatigue, a small stable came into view beside the road.

“Stop number one,” Romaric announced.

She’d never traveled far enough to see such things. Its proximity to the capital left her surprised. “Already?”

“Emergencies arise more often than you may expect. The king’s got lots of horses, and they’re all over the country along the main roads, just in case something dire happens.” He paused, then shrugged. “Normally, we’d send a bird and it would get there faster. If the king wants this delivered in person, it must be of grave importance.”

Elia frowned. “Didn’t they tell you why we’re going?”

“Bits and pieces, like I said. Not enough time for everything. Hey!” He waved an arm overhead, drawing the attention of what appeared to be a soldier beside the stable.

She bit her lip and followed his lead, hoping she wouldn’t be asked to explain the missing bits and pieces sooner than she’d promised.

Romaric did not make her explain. They flew across Kentoria with such frequent stops to change horses, Elia lost track of how many she’d ridden. The black one was replaced by a gray dapple, the dapple with a bay, the bay with a gray whose coat was so pure, he all but blended into the snow. She imagined herself floating, with only the horse’s dark eyes and smoky velvet nose to give away the fact there was an animal beneath her.

Her legs and lungs burned well before midday, and the warming salves the stable hands gave her to rub into her aching muscles when they stopped for sleep helped little before she crashed into bed.

The days marched by, punctuated by a parade of horses in every size and color. The one that carried them through the snowy foothills was small and stout, the one that crossed the mountaintops large enough to ride into war. Elia’s hips and knees hurt in ways she’d never imagined, every inch of her saddle-sore, but she never breathed a word of complaint. All the while, her thoughts hung on what waited ahead.

How far had Banne gotten? How far had Cass? The hurt, disgusted way he’d looked at her the moment they parted ways clung to the forefront of her memories, tainting every other vision of him and every recollection of the sweet moments they’d shared. Holding her close while they slept. Letting her braid his hair. The way he’d kissed her when she’d looked into Banne’s viper den and thought they both might die.

She shut her eyes and let her horse follow Romaric’s lead while she chased away the bitter disappointment things had ended this way.

If she’d not been so eager, Cass might have taken her along with him. They could have gone after Banne together. At least then, she might know if he was safe.

The thought must have made her look pitiful, for Romaric clapped a hand to her shoulder as they changed horses. “Hang in there, El. We’re getting close. I promise.”

Whether or not that was true, she didn’t know, but she noted the change in climate when they descended the mountain into Nylmeres. The weather was milder, with ice and snow hiding in the shadows of hills and trees instead of clinging to every branch and twig. Dead leaves lay thick on the ground with brown grasses peeking out from underneath. The musty scent of rot made her nose itch.

“Soft lands for soft people, eh?” Romaric muttered as they rode.

She thought of the savage way she’d seen Cass fight and gave her head a shake. “I don’t think there’s anything soft about Nylmerians.”

He gave her a curious look, but said nothing more. They stopped at the first appropriate waypoint Romaric spotted, and she tried to rest while he negotiated for fresh horses.

Without heavy snow, Nylmeres was easier to traverse, and miles slipped away as easily as drops of water through her fingers.

Had Cass found horses as easily as Romaric found them? Had Banne? Would she reach Nythmar before them, or too late? She didn’t even know how many days it had been. They changed mounts, rode day and night, and rested for short periods at the waypoints that offered food and rooms where they could sleep. In her exhaustion, sleep came swiftly, though it struck her as never long enough.

At last, when she could bear no more, she sagged against the saddle horn and blinked back her emotions. “I can’t keep going.”

Romaric reined his horse back and slowed to ride beside her. “You have to, El. Don’t talk to yourself that way. We’re almost there.”

She clung to her horse and let it follow her brother on its own. Every inch of her ached and she suspected her legs and backside would be one giant bruise. The ring’s effect had diminished somewhat in the warmer air this side of the mountains, and as the capital slowly came into view, she tried to retrace the voyage in her mind. Much of Kentoria had been beautiful, and everything in the mountains was majestic. After the soft whites and cool greens of snow and evergreens along the way, she couldn’t help but think Nythmar was dingy by comparison.

Everything was shades of beige and brown, dirty, muddy colors interspersed with splashes of reds or rusty oranges where something had been made from terracotta instead of stone. There was little wood to be seen, and with how closely together the buildings were packed, it was no wonder. In Samara, there was room to breathe, and space to ensure fire wouldn’t spread.

Even the castle keep in the center of it all struck her as lackluster, a towering thing of yellow-brown stone that couldn’t compare to the bold red granite of Samara’s palace.

“It’s not much to look at, is it?” Romaric asked. He was unsurprised.

“You’ve been here before?” she asked.

He nodded once. “A few times. I was part of the escort that brought Queen Eccenthe back, after…” He trailed off with a look of bitter regret. It was one she’d seen on many soldiers after the former queen was sent home, returned to her brother’s household at the newly-crowned King Lucan’s behest. Eccenthe—and Aleron, her husband—had been loved. Aleron’s reputation as a good-natured man had been well known long before he’d taken the crown, and none had been pleased to see him die. Kentoria had been less welcoming to Lucan, and far less welcoming to Gaius.

“She was a good woman,” she said, unsure what else could be appropriate.

“She was,” Romaric agreed. “Serving under Aleron and Eccenthe was the best of my time in the army.”

Elia tilted her head. “And Gaius?”

He mulled that over as their horses ambled down the slope. “Which one?”

“You know what I mean.”

The shrug he gave was so stiff, she might have thought him made of wood. “We’ll see.”

She thought they might stop at the stable outside the city’s walls, but Romaric rode through without so much as a look in its direction. The guards at the gate did not stop them.

“We’ll ride to the front gates,” Romaric said as they wound their way through the narrow city streets. People squeezed to the sides of the road to let them pass.

“Then what?” Elia flinched every time one of her boots brushed a person. Everything felt close, tight, without the sense of coziness that had come with Cass’s tiny rented cabin. No wonder he’d come to like Kentoria’s winters. They were like everything else in Kentoria, broad and sprawling, challenging yet rewarding. Would he have stayed, if he’d been presented the opportunity?

“Hope they let us in,” Romaric replied simply.

The steady flow of people faded to a trickle as they neared the wall surrounding the keep. From the vantage point of a horse, she was almost tall enough to see over it. The city’s outer walls were much larger. Were these only a formality?

Romaric slowed. “All right. Dismount, we’ll walk the horses so we don’t approach the gate guards while towering over them. Be ready.”

Elia slid from her horse and grimaced as she tried to straighten her legs. After days of riding, they felt bent and misshapen. Her knees creaked as she flexed her ankles and stretched, holding tight to the saddle for support.

A shadow caught her eye as it moved across the street. She lifted her head to look for its source, the close-packed rooftops hard to see.

“Come on. This way.” Her brother led his horse forward.

She trailed along after him with her stomach turning over. Now that she was here, right outside the palace, she didn’t know what she was supposed to say. Did she show the king’s letter to the guards and demand entry? Her knowledge of such things was so limited. In Kentoria, she had once petitioned for a meeting with the king to try and save Thea’s Threadmancer’s shop, but the process had taken weeks. If they required such formality here, how long could she afford to wait?

Romaric spared her the trouble of replaceing words. “We come bearing urgent news,” he announced as they approached the cluster of guards by a tall gate of solid wooden planks. “We must speak with King Valdessic immediately.”

“Come from where?” One guard stepped to the front of the group, putting himself in charge. There were seven of them. Far more than guarding a front gate should require, Elia thought.

“Kentoria. We ride by the order of King Gaius Rothalan, bearing a letter of utmost importance.”

“There’s no entry. King Valdessic receives no one. Especially not from Kentoria.” The man turned his head and spat.

Elia inched forward to join them. “I’ve traveled with Lord Cassian Daros. I carry important news about who is responsible for the death of Queen Eccenthe.”

This time, several of the men laughed.

“We know who’s responsible,” the leader said with a sneer. “Dropping names won’t get you anywhere. Leave, before I just arrest you.”

Would being arrested help her get the letter to the king? She considered the possibility for far longer than she ought.

“Your refusal to hear us puts your country at risk.” Romaric kept his voice level, but his agitation showed in how he bent the reins between his fingers.

“No entry,” the guard repeated, harder.

Elia put a hand on her brother’s arm. “We need to see to the horses.” Arguing with guards was fruitless. They could come back when another replaced him, or they could replace another way to reach the king.

He resisted, but she slid an arm around his and pulled him toward a side street. She didn’t know where she was going, but they had to put together a better plan.

“We can’t just walk away now,” Romaric said, though he did not fight any further after she let go of his arm. “We shouldn’t give up so fast. Not when we’ve gotten this far. They have to hear us.”

Elia opened her mouth to try and make some reasonable suggestion as he took the lead again, but a shadow rolled across the street ahead. She turned in time to see a flutter of dark fabric as the shadow moved to another roof. Her stomach lurched and she stopped in the middle of the road. It couldn’t be.

She dropped the reins and bolted down the street alone.

“We’ll replace somewhere to stable the horses, I suppose, and—Hey!” Romaric lunged after her, but she slipped beyond his grasp. He spat a curse his mother would have washed his mouth for and spun back to catch the horse she’d left behind.

Elia craned her neck as she ran, trying to see where the shadow had gone. “Get the guards,” she shouted back to her brother. She didn’t stay to see if he complied.

The figure on the rooftops moved fast. Elia couldn’t keep pace.

Then the shadow stopped. A rope sailed overhead, weighted with some sort of hook. It clattered against stone and pulled taut, and the figure swung down from the roof. Her hood fell back as she swept through the air, scarcely clearing the wall.

Had Elia’s stomach been full, she would have emptied it right there.

They’d pushed so hard, fought to reach the king before this happened.

She clenched her fists at her sides and ran for the wall.

“By the Light, Elia, what are you doing?” Romaric snagged her before her foot touched the stone and they spun sideways with her momentum.

“She’s here!” Elia gasped, twisting to escape her brother’s grasp. “The assassin’s here, Rom!” She pointed, and his eyes flashed from her face to the keep.

Banne’s ascent up the shadowed side of the keep was silent. The gate guards would not hear or see.

Romaric stared and his shoulders slumped.

“Tell the guards,” she begged in a whisper. I’ll do what I can.”

“Elia—”

“Please.” She squeezed her hands together as if pleading.

For a single second, concern, disappointment, resignation, and determination flashed across his face. Then, finally, he set his jaw. “All right,” he said softly.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Her brother laced his fingers and braced his hands against his knee, providing a foothold the way he’d done to help her onto horses when she was a child. “I’ll get the guards. Raise a ruckus, El.”

Without hesitation, she dug her foot into his hands and launched herself for the top of the fence.