Iskander bounced on his toes with boyish excitement. “You know, it’s been an age since I’ve been on a proper hunt. It gets the blood up like nothing else.”
Except war, I thought, looking down as I shoved the thought away. It wasn’t Iskander’s fault his people thrived while mine suffered.
“I’m surprised Your Highness is willing to risk the foothills,” the sour-looking man said, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. “Are the mountains not part of Seravesh?”
I drew my shoulders back, sensing a trap waiting to be sprung. While the mountains did belong to my kingdom, here in the southern slopes, the fact was more of a technicality. The people who actually lived there were Idunese in everything but name. “The mountains are on Seraveshi lands, but I’m not worried for our safety. The range provides an excellent shield against the worst of the fighting.”
The man smirked. “So good a shield that Seravesh looks peaceful from here.”
I glanced at Iskander who was glaring a hole in the lord’s face. “Looks can be deceiving.”
“And words can’t? I read the letters you sent the emperor begging for aid against the so-called Roven invasion. Perhaps your words were overblown. Why, even the Seraveshi ambassador to Vishir endorsed the regime change.”
“Before he conveniently disappeared,” I shot back through clenched teeth. The ambassador was a good man—there wasn’t a chance in hell his endorsement wasn’t a product of torture.
The nobleman’s dark eyes met mine, a challenge glimmering in their depths. “Conveniently for whom?”
“Ishaq, please,” Iskander said, putting a quelling hand on the older lord’s arm. “This is meant to be a fun outing. There will be time to discuss more serious things later.” He nodded to me, his expression filled with promise.
But there wouldn’t be, I thought as Governor Erol and a party of nobles entered the courtyard from a small side gate with a dozen servants leading in the horses. Iskander’s men would make sure I wouldn’t have a chance. If I wanted to talk to him, I’d have to make an opportunity, and sooner rather than later. Erol walked up and said his hellos, but I wasn’t listening. I caught Vitaly’s eye and gave him a conspiratorial smile.
The hunting party rode northeast out of Eshkaroth, and in a matter of minutes we were in the forested lowlands of the Peshkalor Mountains. Our path veered past the encampment where my men were waiting.
The Black Wolves appeared out of the fog, their gleaming armor resplendent in the morning light. Three thousand men of the north greeted us with howls and cheers. I grinned at the sight of them; at Iskander’s delighted laugh and Ishaq’s glower. My countrymen. My people.
We continued northeast, and the hills became steeper, the forest denser.
The hunt began.
In that difficult terrain, the true horsemen soon separated themselves from the rest. With Vitaly’s help we divided the groups further by scaring up a flock of wild turkey, pushing them south with the remaining riders. I took the lead north with Vitaly and Iskander’s second man, a chubby lord called Marr. Thankfully, Prince Iskander kept up with us, handling his hot-blooded stallion with expert precision. General Arkady was content to stay behind, no doubt doing his best to keep everyone else out of the way.
As one of the bloodhounds let out a long, baying howl, I flashed Iskander a challenging grin. Vishiri stallions might be fast, but they were made for flatlands. In the mountains, with the ground wet with snow, my destrier was an even match for speed. We raced after the dogs, weaving through the trees so fast it felt like I was flying, and for one precious moment I was home. My hair whipped back and the cold stung my eyes, but it was the best feeling in the world. Beside me, Iskander whooped a wild laugh.
The dogs were going mad. They had the boar surrounded on three sides, but the animal wouldn’t give up without a fight. It sprinted through the forest, bucking its tusked head at any of the hounds that ventured too close.
I leaned lower over my horse, letting the animal have its head. From the corner of my eye, I saw Iskander loosen his spear and heft it in his right hand. I smiled, urging my horse onward. With a mighty groan, the prince heaved the spear. It hurtled thirty feet before tearing into the boar’s back. The hog squealed. Injured, enraged, but not yet defeated.
I veered right, up an embankment, flanking the beast before dropping the reins, using my legs to steer. I lifted my bow and fired two shots in quick succession. The first pierced the boar’s flank. The second found its mark. The arrow’s broad head shot straight through the boar’s side, burrowing through the right lung and into the heart. The boar took a handful of stuttering steps, then fell, skidding into the snow.
“Well done, my lady,” Vitaly cried as I rode back to the men.
“Great shot,” Iskander said earnestly.
I grinned and a childish corner of my mind hoped that proving myself would be enough to convince Iskander to help me. “Thanks,” I replied, dismounting beside the others while servants rode in to tend to the boar. “You learn a few things, traveling with an army for six months.” The reality of why I’d been traveling with an army for so long made me falter. This was as alone as Iskander and I were going to get, I realized. Now or never.
“Don’t let her fool you,” Vitaly said, grinning. “She’s been training with the Black Wolves ever since she returned to Seravesh.”
“Truly?” Surprise was obvious in Iskander’s voice. “That’s not a hobby I’ve ever heard of for a noblewoman, let alone a future queen.”
I shrugged, straining for nonchalance. “I wasn’t the heir when I returned to Seravesh. I . . . well, you know my parents’ story.” It was high drama, the kind of salacious tale that court gossip thrived on. A Seraveshi princess running off with a Vishiri healer, turning her back on family and a crown for love. Somehow the fact that my mother, and me by extension, were exiled for disobeying my grandfather’s wishes was usually omitted from the doe-eyed love tale. “My father’s healing abilities took us all over the world. While we spent some time in various courts, including your father’s,” I said, nodding to Iskander, “we spent most of our time on battlefields.”
I paused as memories of my parents’ last battle rose unbidden in my mind. I closed my eyes for a moment, forcing the dark thoughts away. “After my parents died, I returned to Seravesh, but it was a long time before I proved my worth to my grandfather and his court.” Although I tried to smile, my face didn’t seem up to the task. “But I’ve been around soldiers all my life. So I haunted the training yard. Eventually, General Arkady took pity on me and trained me. Helped me gain acceptance at court.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, my lady,” Vitaly said quietly. “The general trained you because he saw your potential. You were accepted at court because others saw it too. I should know. My father held a feast at our castle when the king named you his heir.” Vitaly’s smile was edged in sadness.
“Your father will feast again when I get you home, Vitaly.” Blood rushed out of Vitaly’s face. He nodded once and looked away. I frowned. Vitaly often looked sad when he spoke of home, but this was different.
“Your Black Wolves,” Lord Marr said in broken Idunese. “Very big. Big men.” He puffed out his chest, miming a much larger man.