“Good morning,” she said, her mouth dry, determined to say something despite the warm flush of desire that coiled through her. Stop that, she chided herself. Even if Rodan is one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen, he’s not human. That thought alone stopped her traitorous thoughts.
“Good morning,” he echoed and nodded toward the table. “Please, we should eat before we go.”
Maeve needed little more coaxing than that, sinking down on to a cushion and pulling an empty plate toward her. She cut into a loaf of black bread and made an open sandwich of the eggs, bacon, and ham.
She ate quickly, as did he, and soon Rodan cleared the table, and then gestured at her to follow him to his side of the pavilion. “I have something for you.” She followed, but hesitantly remained at the edge of the partition until she noticed a glittering array of weapons laid out atop his bed. She came to his side, and he motioned at the collection, “I want you to choose any of these that suits you. From here on out, you must remain armed. We don’t know what challenges and traps Sebastian has planned for us, and I want you to be prepared when they spring.”
“I haven’t used a blade in years,” she said, reaching out to pick up a dagger as long as her forearm, its hilt encrusted with black diamonds and veins of yellow gold. Each of the weapons carried a similar motif, matching the imperial colors. “I honestly worry that I’ll hurt myself more than any attacker.”
“Sebastian taught you, didn’t he?” King Rodan’s tone, though level, had an edge to it. Something akin to jealousy.
“No,” she corrected. “It was Pike.” She paused while considering the dagger and glanced up at him. “You don’t happen to know what happened to everyone, do you? Pike and Troy?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t seen or heard of them in years. So far as I know, they went their own way once Sebastian was crowned.”
Maeve nodded, thinking back on the bald ex-thief who taught her how to scrap with blades and fisticuffs. Troy tried to teach her archery, but Maeve never caught the knack of it. Pike’s brand of fighting came naturally to her—using her body to counteract the movement of her foes and bring them down as swiftly as possible. The more precise acts of drawing and firing a bow were lost on her.
Sebastian never trained with her or attempted to teach her his own swordcraft. He preferred long blades and excelled at dispatching his enemies with swiftness, but he only stared as Maeve trained, staying on the sidelines.
Now, Maeve wondered if he had done that because he wanted her to be unprepared if they ever faced off in battle. She remembered catching him studying her around campfires late at night during their travels. Sometimes a darkness lurked there, something hard in his unguarded expression. She never wanted to admit to seeing it, but now? Now she knew she needed to face the reality of those years.
What if he was preparing to kill me if I attempted to take the crown from him? she thought. Did he consider me a threat?
“Does this have a sheath?” she asked, shaking away the cobwebs of those memories and checking the balance of the dagger.
Rodan nodded and produced a leather sheath with a loop that could go around a belt. “Is that all you wish to carry?”
She shook her head and selected a smaller dagger no longer than her outstretched hand that she tucked into her boot. “That’ll do.” She looked up at him, “What about you?”
“I’ll have my magic. I can create a sword if I have need.”
She nodded, chiding herself for asking. Of course, Rodan conjured up a sword whenever he wanted, unlike her.
Maeve went back to her side of the partition and dressed for travel, selecting an outfit not dissimilar to what Rodan wore. She put on a belt he conjured for her, festooned with several compartments filled with useful things: bits of twine, gold and silver coins, flint and steel. She attached the dagger to her hip, checking in the looking glass that everything rested just where it should.
She paused there, taking in her appearance. The clothes were strange when compared to what she wore when she walked in her own world, yet it fit her, and she felt more herself than she had in years. Maeve shook her hair back and braided it in the mirror, pulling the thick rope of it into a knot on the back of her head.
Nodding to herself, she moved back into the living area and found Rodan taking stock of a small leather pack. While she looked at him, he slipped a wrapped loaf of bread and several apples into it. Her boot scuffed against the soft carpeting and he looked up.
“In case we’re ever separated, I want you to have a few basic supplies,” he said, holding the pack out to her. “It’s just food, water, and a few coins. Enough that you’ll be able to find accommodation in any village.”
Maeve took the pack and gave it a brief look-through. Sure enough, contained within were some necessary provisions and a coin purse that fit in her palm. She checked it and found the coins glittered with gold, with just a few silver and copper pieces mixed in.
Many things remained the same regardless of what world Maeve found herself in, or how much time had passed. What she carried in her hand was enough to feed a large family for an entire year, if not more. She blinked and looked up at him. “Are you sure?”
He shrugged. “I can make whatever I want, what need have I for coin?”
The purse, along with the small number of coins at her belt, contained more than enough to ensure that she would be taken care of if they separated. Or if Rodan died. She shuddered at the thought. She did not want to run the trials on her own, did not want to be faced with the impossible decision of dispatching her friend or letting him kill her.
She hesitated before slinging the pack on to her back. “Why did you want my help?”
He gazed at her for a few heartbeats before responding. “You were the reason that Sebastian succeeded.”
“But we had other friends, allies. How was I the one who made a difference in the group? For all you know, it was Pike who was instrumental to Sebastian’s success. I have nothing. A little magic, a little swordcraft, but I’m vulnerable. Fragile, especially compared to a Fae.”
He took a step toward her, looming above her shorter frame. “You underestimate yourself. You underestimate your influence.” He paused, and then continued. “We should be on our way. We’ll talk on this more, later.”
Walking, it took them hours to come across a village, and almost the same amount of time to convince the only family with horses to part with a pair. Maeve tried not to balk as Rodan handed over a king’s ransom of gold coins to the farmers and turned his attention to checking over the tack that came with the horses. He continued to negotiate, insisting that the couple must have better saddles hidden away. Sure enough, they did. Neither recognized him despite his royal colors.
It was early afternoon by the time she and Rodan rode out of the village, him on a beautiful large black destrier and her on a smaller chestnut-brown palfrey. While Rodan’s horse—named Ender—was a magnificent creature, Maeve’s nerves frayed around him. There was too much fire in his eyes, and when she stroked his neck, he tried to bite her. But Rodan was able to quiet the creature, and they looked a pretty picture together, with Rodan’s hair nearly disappearing into the inky black coat of the horse.
Maeve’s horse, Leona, was a female of far better temperament and a smooth ambling walk that she appreciated considering how long it had been since she rode a horse. The wife of the couple they’d bought from had said Leona was her personal favorite and charged a high price because of it. Ender, on the other hand, they had practically given away.