The Brightness Queen Saga

The Princess
and
Her Light

MICHAEL J EDMOND
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The Princess and Her Light
Copyright © 2023, Michael J Edmond, RFP Publishing
All Rights Reserved

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First U.S. Edition: October, 2023

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events

portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is
entirely coincidental.

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 OTHER BOOKS BY MICHAEL J EDMOND

The Size of The Moon

The Search For Planet Mysterious
Three Steps Back
For more information on these books and other resources visit
michaeljedmond.com.

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For my daughter Evalyn

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 Table of Contents

1
A Lonely Howl
2
Three Days Prior
3
Inside The Wolf’s Den
4
Rumors
5
Foxes in the Wolf’s Den
6
Healings
7
The Third Day
8
A Mother’s Love
9
The Hidden Truth Revealed
10
Flight to Cross
11
Toasted Spuds
12
Dark Figures
13
The Invited
 14
Lord Keaston Drayke
15
Crashing The Ball
16
Introductions
17
Dancing, Accusations, and Danger
18
Avalon
19
The Cliffs of Calais
20
The Sister
21
In Search of Answers
22
The Decision

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 1
A Lonely Howl

The gray wolf was dead. The girl was certain of it. Until a few moments
ago.
She saw the horn pierce his side. Witnessed him collapse near the river’s
edge and take his final breath. His gray fur and the white snow were stained
with red that flowed from the fatal wound.
Yet there he was. Standing tall. In the very spot where, three days before,
she had watched him die. The wolf turned his yellow eyes toward her. She
breathed heavily, wisps of fog forming in the cold air around her hot breath.
She wasn’t afraid of him. The power that coursed through her and
brought him back to life terrified her.
Raising his narrow snout toward the heavens, he let out a long and
drawn-out howl that signaled the return of the wolf king. His eerie yet
powerful life song raised the hairs on her arms and legs.
Their eyes met. He didn’t seem afraid of her either. He turned his head
down and licked his paws as if nothing unusual had happened.
He looked up again and blinked several times. Moments later, he trotted
away from the river. His form dissolved into the darkness of the nearby
forest. The evergreens with their boughs covered in snow welcomed him
back into their fold.
For several minutes, she stared at the forest wondering how she would
explain this to her mother.

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 2
Three Days Prior

Saylor didn’t mind the snow or the cold. She minded the wind.
A slow breeze from the wrong direction could breach the gaps and cracks
of her buck-skinned coat and pants and chill her to the bone. Pulling the
knitted scarf her mother made for her up over her nose, Saylor continued
trudging through the newly fallen snow, following the fresh tracks of a hare.
Despite her efforts to pass quietly through the silent forest, her boots
crunched loudly in the fresh white powder, signaling to all the forest
creatures that something was moving in the otherwise deadened landscape.
She paused to scan the surrounding forest, and remained motionless for
several minutes to ensure she was the only one out hunting the hare. To
remain alert lest she become prey herself. Other predators might be
foraging in the cold woods looking for an easy meal.
If she kept moving, she’d stay warm. Waiting allowed the wind’s fingers
and the cold’s hands to envelope her in a frigid embrace. Tempting her to
never move again.
She had no choice. She needed to eat. And if she remained in one place
for too long a time, she’d freeze to death, or be the one eaten.
Her mother was traveling to the nearest town to trade pelts and the last of
their medicinal remedies crafted from the spring’s harvest. Saylor was left
to fend for herself. Food was scarce. That meant venturing out from their
small earthen shack to search the snowy mountains for game.
The soft breeze blew against a leafless branch and shook it. The small
pile of snow amassed on the sparse limb dislodged and thumped to the
snow-covered ground, sounding loud in the otherwise silence.
Saylor whipped her head toward the noise. She saw nothing but the
whiteness of the snow and the brown of the trees.
 The sound of wings fluttering drew her attention upwards. Off to her left,
more wings fluttered. Saylor turned toward the sound, her brow furrowing,
nose scrunched up as she contemplated the source of the noise.
It sounded like the wings of a dragonfly, something not possible this time
of year.
She scanned the trees, searching for a bird or bug or … or something
else. She spotted nothing unusual, the only movement coming from the
snowless branch oscillating. It soon stopped moving.
A deep sigh escaped her mouth, letting out a breath that warmed her
scarf, the heat traveled through the fabric up to her nose.
“I know you don’t believe me,” Saylor said, in a soft whisper, “but I
swear, Mother, this forest has eyes.”
It felt like she was being watched.
It felt like danger was lurking.
Every ounce of her being wanted to run back to the cabin.
She shivered. Standing in snow that reached her knees reminded her of
the poor decision to wear thick socks. Since it had been a cold morning
after a heavy snowfall, Saylor had opted for the woolen socks instead of the
thin linen ones she frequently wore.
Making things worse, her toes cramped inside brown leather boots too
small now for her feet. Wiggling her toes was a lame attempt to somehow
flush fresh air around them.
It’d been several years since her mother had been able to afford a larger
pair. The promise had been to buy her proper boots when she stopped
growing, which her mother believed would be in another year when Saylor
turned thirteen.
Her feet wouldn’t freeze. A covering of white fur encased and
camouflaged her boots. The biggest worry was to guard against them
sweating and the skin becoming raw.
Other parts of her body could freeze. She pulled her cloak about her
shoulders. The white hide of the mountain ram provided warmth as well as
concealment.
 The wind changed direction. Saylor snorted with annoyance. The breeze
blew her scent in the direction the hare had been traveling. She’d have to
increase her pace and risk catching the eye of a dangerous creature out
hunting.
She nocked an arrow with a blunt tip to the string of a small ash bow with
curves at the ends to make the smaller bow more powerful. A larger bow
would’ve been better, but she didn’t have the strength necessary to shoot it
properly. A larger bow would take down large game like deer, rams, or
mountain oxen.
Her stomach rumbled. What she wouldn’t give for a bowl of wild ram
soup. Instead, she had to rely primarily on snares to trap the smaller forest
game. Or hunt them through the snow when time was of the essence, and
she needed a meal sooner and couldn’t wait for the traps to do their jobs.
Her snares were empty that morning. While making her way back home
she’d come across the fresh hare tracks and followed them, hoping to get
off one shot. She wouldn’t miss.
The smaller and lighter bow would do the job. A precise shot would
finish off the animal without damaging its meat or spilling its blood.
She wasn’t squeamish and could handle blood, having helped skin and
butcher animals with her mother for as long as she could remember. The
only fear was that fresh blood in the snow would attract larger predators
like foxes, snow leopards, or wolves.
Foxes and snow leopards didn’t worry Saylor too much. They hunted the
same game and often stole rabbits and squirrels from her snares, sometimes
pulling her captures off her tether lines as she walked back home.
She feared the wolves. Her mother had lectured her many times about
avoiding the pack animals that expertly hunted for survival and sometimes
for sport.
“Wolves are evil creatures,” she had said. “To be feared almost as much
as man.”
Saylor stepped high through the snow, unable to move as fast as she
wanted. The jumping caused the two thin slats of wood strapped across her
back to bang against the back of her head. She threw an arm behind to hold
them still.
 “You should know better, Saylor,” she said to herself, shaking her head.
“You brought skis for some reason. But not snowshoes.”
She’d been fooled into thinking it had been a light snowfall the previous
evening. Once she moved away from the glade of evergreens helping to
hide her cabin, the snow was much deeper since the barren trees didn’t have
the protection of leaves.
Going this far from her cabin wasn’t the plan. The intent was to check her
snares on the side of the mountain, and head back home. The skis would
make her way back down the mountainside much easier.
The plan changed when she came across the fresh hare tracks and chose
to follow them further up the mountain rather than return home. She
wondered if she was making a mistake.
But she was close. She could feel it.
Saylor came to an abrupt stop. A second set of tracks intersected the
hare’s and was moving in the same direction of the small prey.
The unmistakable prints of a fox.
Saylor let out a frustrated yell, “Feathers!”
She looked around to see if she could spot the hare. It must be close.
Perhaps it had escaped and was hiding from the fox. It probably returned to
its den which was why she hadn’t seen it. Had only seen the tracks.
The reality of the situation hit her. She wouldn’t be able to get to the hare.
The entire effort had been a waste of time. The fox had ruined her hunt. It
won. Again. She shook her head in disgust.
Saylor returned the arrow to its quiver and turned toward her cabin,
prepared for another night of hunger. A bowl of boiled chiva root awaited
her, seasoned with the last of their milkwood spices that made the chiva
palatable. If it came to it, she could boil the few potatoes remaining in the
cellar, but she’d been saving them, planning to use as much of them as
possible to plant in spring, hoping for a better harvest than previous years.
An animal snorted. Startling her.
She froze and searched for movement.
An enormous mountain ox stood forty paces away, nibbling on the
needles of a spruce, its black muzzle stood in stark contrast to its long white
fur. As the ox pulled on the branch, a pile of snow plopped onto its head.
Saylor felt relief and grinned. Thankfully it wasn’t a threat. The ox
continued eating, ignoring, and proudly displaying its hat of snow.
She’d never seen a mountain ox this close before. At least, not a living
one. She’d run across a few carcasses. Victims of packs of wolves that
resided in the valley on the far side of the ridge to the east. Those were
miles away and the carcasses served to warn her not to encroach into the
hunting grounds of the wolves.
This ox was aware of the wolf hunting boundary as well, because he was
keeping away from the danger too.
The wind changed direction. The ox stopped chewing and lifted its snout
to sniff the wind. The ox seemed startled.
Saylor sniffed as well and scanned the woods for the cause of the ox’s
alarm.
A moment later, a wolf bayed. The ox bolted, stampeding directly toward
Saylor. She leapt behind the trunk of a large tree as the panicked ox passed,
the tips of its sharp horns missing her torso by less than a palm width.
If the wolves gave chase, they’d come right towards her.
Saylor pulled her white cloak tight around her body, hoping the wolves
would be too preoccupied with the massive ox to concern themselves with a
smaller meal like her.
She peeked around the coat and dared to look. A large, black-furred wolf
was coming toward her.
Too late to run. She stood motionless.
He raced past her tree, hot on the hooves of the ox, leading a pack of
smaller wolves in chase.
They sped past, ignoring her.
Her heart raced. Her breath quickened.
She fought to remain calm. Remaining calm would help her keep quiet.
She waited until the last of the wolves flew by in pursuit of the pack leader
before stepping out from behind the tree to flee in the opposite direction.
She’d been wrong.
The black wolf was not the pack leader.
 An enormous gray wolf, its spine as tall as her head, raced toward her.
She stood stone still and held her breath. It seemed unstartled by her
emergence from behind the tree. As if he’d known she’d been hiding there.
Without veering to the side, the great gray wolf moved effortlessly after
his pack. His coarse fur brushed against her leg as he passed by. She let out
a muted scream.
As he disappeared down the mountainside, the great gray wolf howled,
making his presence known to every living creature in the valley.
She should’ve returned home and thanked the benevolent being above for
not letting her become wolf food. For some reason, she didn’t go home. She
couldn’t make herself.
Curiosity had gotten the best of her. The wolf had let her be. All the
wolves had left her alone. They saw her. At the very least, they smelled her.
They’d ignored her. She’d most certainly be an easier prey to kill than a
gigantic mountain ox.
Rather than doing the most prudent thing, she turned away from the
direction leading back to her cabin and sped down the same path the gray
wolf had taken. She began sweating, especially down in her feet.
She stopped to strap on her skis. Cursed herself for not taking the time to
fix the leather strap when she’d had the chance. She’d planned on taking the
time in winter to carve a better pair, a pair not as bulky.
Keeping them as tight as possible, she began skiing down the
mountainside.
“Worry about it later,” she said. “For now, just add it to the list of my
daily regrets.”
Her hands looped through the chords at the end of two long sticks she
used as poles and jammed the ends into the snow, pushing hard to propel
herself down the hill. It didn’t take much to start moving faster. The
mountain ox and wolves had left her an easy trail to follow.
The trail led down the mountainside toward the river. The eerie sound of
the baying of the wolves meant she was gaining on them. It also meant they
were stopped. Probably had the mountain ox pinned against the river with
no way to escape.
 The tree line ended, opening to a vast clearing that led to a tall precipice
overlooking the river that never seemed to freeze in winter in spite of the
cold. Its many waterfalls and cataracts and rapids winning the battle against
the frigid temperatures.
At the edge of the clearing, Saylor pushed the skis to the side and
stopped. She shuffled behind a large tree, to keep hidden while observing
the scene ahead. The end of the chase.
The mountain ox had many wolves surrounding it.
The smaller wolves clipped at its heels. The large black wolf tried to
deliver the death blow to the ox’s neck. The massive beast shoved it off.
Another large male tried. He had a similar result.
The large gray wolf came upon the scene. Without hesitation, he
increased his pace and flew through the air, knocking the black ox to the
ground. The ox struggled to get up from the snow.
The other wolves bounced. The ox managed to regain his feet. They tried
to wear him down, but he wouldn’t go down without a fight. Striking as
many blows against them as they did against him.
Saylor watched with mixed emotions. Though she felt sad for the ox and
imagined how frightened it must be, she couldn’t look away, feeling a
kindred spirit with her fellow hunters. If she could, she’d kill the ox and
take the kill home for dinner. Enough food to last most of the winter.
The gray wolf appeared to be planning its next move. Not even the
greatest hunter can be prepared for all contingencies. As the gray wolf
neared the ox’s flank, his paw slipped on the trunk of a fallen tree hidden by
the recent snowfall. Though he recovered quickly, the ox had time to swing
its head and pierce the wolf’s side with its horn.
For a moment, Saylor thought she was seeing things.
The great gray wolf never slowed his pace nor uttered a yelp of pain and
continued to fight the ox until he brought him to the ground.
Once he had, the other wolves closed in to help finish off the dying beast.
Saylor turned her eyes away from the gruesome scene. When she finally
looked back, she saw the great gray wolf walking away from the pack and
the fallen ox. He stopped near the river’s edge and plopped down in the
snow.
 Keeping to the edge of the trees, Saylor skied down the mountainside
until she reached the river’s edge. After removing and reattaching her skis
to her back, she made her way upstream until she was within several strides
of the great gray wolf.
The other wolves were off at a distance, focused on their trophy. Until
that moment, none of them had noticed their leader had fallen.
A few minutes later, the black wolf noticed the gray wolf wasn’t there.
He left the fallen ox and began looking around for his rival. He found him
lying in the snow. The black wolf approached cautiously. He snarled,
snapped his jowls, and leapt backward, trying to see if the great wolf would
rise and face the challenger.
When the gray wolf didn’t respond, the black wolf stood over him and
howled, telling the other wolves a new leader had arisen. The other wolves
came running.
A few didn’t give in easily. Instead, vying for supremacy. The black wolf
descended on them quickly and fiercely, establishing his right to rule.
The few challengers scattered.
Thinking the wolves were distracted, Saylor crept toward the great gray,
needing to see for herself that he had indeed died. A large pool of crimson
liquid stained the virgin snow. The very substance that had supplied his
vitality.
His yellow eyes remained open but unseeing, his flanks still as no air
entered his lungs. He lay perfectly still. Lifeless.
Saylor dropped to her knees, unable to stop tears from coming to her eyes
for reasons she couldn’t comprehend.
Too caught up in her own sadness, she hadn’t noticed the yelping and
snarling between the wolves vying for dominance had ceased.
A low growl sounded behind her.
She turned slowly toward the familiar sound.
The black wolf stood several feet away. Flashing his sharp teeth at her.
He looked upon her as another challenger. Or at least as a chance to
demonstrate his strength to the others.
He crouched low, preparing to charge.
 She held back a scream.
The danger heightened her senses. The river roared loudly behind her.
The black wolf dug its paws into the snow as he prepared to attack. He
began moving slowly toward her.
A small knife hung from a string about her waist but would do nothing
against the massive animal staring at her. She unstrapped her skis, holding
them vertically to try and trick the wolf into thinking she was larger than
she was, something her mother had taught her to do.
It worked momentarily. The black wolf stopped its forward progress.
It wouldn’t be fooled for long.
Keeping the skis raised, she removed her bow and quiver and set them in
the snow near the great gray wolf.
The black wolf bared its teeth and snarled.
She removed her cloak and held it in front of her. Perhaps ten paces lay
between her and the wolf and the same distance between her and the cliff
behind. And over a thousand paces lay between her and the nearest tree.
It could’ve been a million. She couldn’t outrun the wolf, even with a head
start.
Only one option remained, and its outcome almost as certain as fighting
the wolf with her hands. She set down the skis and gathered a handful of
her cloak in each hand.
The wolf was moving toward her again. He sprung. His powerful legs
propelled him into the air. She hurled the cloak toward the wolf, thrusting
her hands to the sides as she threw it.
The cloak unfurled and flailed outward, temporarily shielding her from
the wolf’s view. At the same time, she spun toward the cliff’s edge and
sprinted toward it. The black wolf plowed through the middle of the cloak.
It slowed to grab it with its teeth to cast it aside.
The momentary distraction saved her, but only temporarily.
The wolf sprang forward again, closing the distance quickly between
them. He snarled and snapped at her heel, ripping away the fur that covered
her boot.
 With no other choice, Saylor jumped off the cliff. The black wolf didn’t
follow.
Though free from the wolf’s danger, the river below seemed eager to
swallow her. It roared gleefully as she plunged feet first into the jowls of the
frigid waters.

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 3
Inside The Wolf’s Den

The icy water stunned Saylor’s body and ripped the air from her lungs.
Flailing to reach the surface to draw in another breath, her arms and legs
slammed against boulders and rocks as the river pushed her downstream,
seemingly angry that its invader still lived and desired to escape.
Her foot hit the river’s bottom briefly, allowing her to push off toward the
surface. Her head rose over the top of the water long enough to draw in a
small amount of air in addition to cold water.
She sputtered before the water pulled her under again.
The raging current took control, and she was powerless to fight it. All she
could do was throw her hands in front of her face, trying to guard against
her head slamming into a rock. The river churned and shoved her over
several boulders, unseen beneath the surface.
It pushed her forward and toward the surface momentarily giving her
permission to draw another desperate breath, this one free of water.
Unmercifully, the river dragged her down again. Struggling for air helped
her ignore the coldness of the water.
After tumbling over a small waterfall and plunging into the pool below,
the river’s depth increased, and the rapids decreased. Now able to keep her
head steadily above the water, she tried swimming to the river’s edge. Her
arms felt heavy in the icy water. Frozen muscles devoid of extra fat on an
already thin frame made the effort futile.
The river was simply stronger. She made no headway.
Deciding to no longer fight it, she relaxed her arms and floated, allowing
the calmer water to push her downstream. At least she could breathe,
although the frigid water left her breaths shallow and shaky.
 For some reason, her head hurt. Not throbbing. More of a sharp pain.
Until survival was achieved, she’d have no chance to inspect the damage.
The roaring of the river grew louder. The flow of the water began to
increase in speed as the banks of the river narrowed, funneling the furious
water through a ravine full of rapids.
She’d missed her opportunity.
The banks of the river were now steep rock walls. Even if she could make
it to the edge before reaching the rapids, she’d never be able to climb out.
The water pushed her over a large rock and dipped down before surging
to crash against more rocks in its path, taking Saylor with it. Helpless to do
anything about it, the relentless water pulled her under and spewed her
against another large rock.
She shielded her head with both arms. Her midsection careened off the
boulder, shoving the air from her chest.
This is how I’m going to die.
Or maybe not. Maybe the black wolf would get her after all. It waited
ahead. On the log across the river. She would fight it now. The will to live
overcame hopelessness. Instinctively, she opened her mouth to breathe but
only drew in icy water.
She went in and out of consciousness. Resigned to her fate. A calm came
over her.
As she went under again, the wolf clamped down on the back of her neck
to finish her off.
Except it wasn’t a wolf. Maybe it was.
It had to be. Or something as strong as a wolf. No human had the strength
to lift her with such ease. None that she knew, at least.
Whatever it was, lifted her completely out of the water and held her
against its torso as it crossed the bridge. Not a bridge. The log. Where the
wolf had been waiting. Once on solid ground, it hurried away from the
torrid river, the roar lessening as they moved further into the forest.
She would be able to breathe normally now except for the panic raging
inside of her.
Who has me?
 What has me?
I’d rather die in the river!
The creature had her tight against its chest. A warm and furry fabric of
some sort. Her head rested instinctively against it, soaking up the warmth.
She barely moved, even though the beast was running on uneven ground.
That’s how tight his grip.
He spoke to her. His voice was deep and strong. Confident.
She understood the words.
Wolves don’t talk. Humans don’t run with the wind. Bound across the
ground like a … a wolf.
Her eyes grew heavy. All she wanted to do was sleep. Perhaps caused by
the blow to her head. A concussion maybe. That might explain why she was
seeing things.
The creature told her to stay awake and hold on. His words were calming
yet frightening.
As much as she wanted to, keeping her eyes open proved difficult, so she
let them close. She couldn’t shut her ears, though. The creature’s heartbeat
pounded against her head and rang in her ears.
Her breathing began to match his. A voice inside told her to count his
heartbeats. Another voice screamed the panic rising within, overriding all
other thoughts.
What is my fate?
What horrible death awaits me?
She imagined the furry wolf was carrying her off to feed her to its young.
Why did she think it was a wolf?
“Stay with me, Saylor,” he said.
What? How did he know my name?
The voice was powerful, but gentle. Confusing her. It seemed like the
wolf was rescuing her. Saving her. Someone so kind couldn’t intend to kill
her.
She grunted, thinking the creature’s words inane. “Stay with me?” It
made her angry. She was its captive. She had no choice but to stay with
him.
It had to be a him.
A man perhaps?
The surrounding air suddenly grew warm. The man spoke to someone.
Someone answered.
She heard a woman’s voice. Another wolf. A shewolf?
No. These weren’t wolves. Wolves didn’t speak.
The man—it had to be a man, or perhaps he was a wolfman—set her
down on the soft and warm snow.
Warm snow?
Someone lifted her warm cloak and gave commands to the shewolf. It
seemed like she wasn’t in the elements anymore. She looked up but didn’t
see the sky.
The shewolf spoke again. The hewolf answered. She couldn’t hear what
they were saying. They whispered to each other so she couldn’t hear the
words.
What were the wolves planning?
No. Not wolves.
This must be a dream.
Maybe the blow to her head was playing tricks on her.
Unless they were talking wolves. Saylor thought she’d sorted that out
already.
The shewolf spoke calming words to her now, her soft hands pulled at the
fastenings of her coat and pants. The frigid clothes left her skin, replaced by
the warmth of a fire, followed by a warm layer of fabric of some sort. Like
a shift or a nightgown. Furry.
Strange. Wolves don’t wear clothes. Or make fires.
No! They aren’t wolves.
Now warm, her muscles began to ease their shivering, her teeth their
chattering against one another. Drowsiness still weighed down on her. The
shewolf told her to stay awake.
 It asked a question. Something about a name. It then gave her a
command. The shewolf was ordering her to do something.
No, not a … not a …
Saylor didn’t care what it was that spoke to her. She wanted to sleep.
“Stay awake,” said the wolfman. The words caused Saylor to lift her
drooping chin.
The girl, the shewolf, was next to her. Soft hands caressed her upper
arms, forcing warmth and blood to flow back into them.
“Sleep,” said Saylor through stiff lips. “I’m so tired.”
The shewolf gave her another command.
“Drink this.”
A warm liquid touched Saylor’s lips. Her body understood the command
even if her mind couldn’t process what was happening. She began to drink,
her chilled lips drawing in the warm savory broth.
As if magical, the smooth broth coursed down her throat as mightily as
the river raged through the ravine. It revitalized her insides, warming her
from the inside out.
She leaned forward for another sip.
“Slowly,” commanded the shewolf.
Saylor moaned an acknowledgement, even though she wished to gulp
down the entire contents of the bowl.
She’d never tasted anything so good.
Most of her life she’d been hungry. It’s like her body wanted to make up
for all the years of malnutrition in one setting.
The shewolf only allowed another small sip to pass across her lips. The
small amount helped clear the cold from her head. The blur was still present
in her vision, but Saylor could make out the contours of the face of the
shewolf.
A wolf without a snout or long ears who looked incredibly like a girl. A
human girl.
A human girl in a wolf’s den?
 Saylor closed her eyes, conscious now of the ache at the back of her
head.
“Here, take another sip,” the girl said.
Shewolf? Girl? Whatever? Saylor didn’t care. She wanted more of the
savory broth.
She drew in a large amount, gulping it down hungrily. The girl didn’t stop
her this time. The healing powers worked immediately. The ringing in her
ears stopped. She was no longer cold. Her head no longer ached. Warmth
filled her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.
“Just relax,” said the shewolf.
For the first time, Saylor got a good look at her. The girl had blonde hair.
Not fur.
“You’re going to be ok,” she said in a soothing voice.
“Are you … a wolf?” Saylor asked.
The shewolf chuckled. “No. I am not a wolf.”
Saylor cleared her throat, realizing she’d voiced her thoughts aloud. Or
perhaps the shewolf had read her mind.
Good. That was clear. Unless she’d lied. Saylor spoke again, her voice
still shaky. “The other wolf, the one who bit me on the neck? What is he?”
The shewolf who was not a wolf laughed. “He is not a wolf. He’s my
father.”
“Right,” said Saylor, nodding. “That makes more sense.”
Even though it didn’t.
“Can you hold this yet?” said the girl who was not a wolf, holding out the
bowl.
Saylor extended her arms, finding movement helped push the stiffness
out. She rotated her palm a few times, trying to focus on her arms. Which
were now furry.
They’d turned her into a wolf!
A sleeve. That’s what it was. She was wearing clothes. She didn’t
remember putting on a white tunic or blouse.
Maybe she’d grown white fur. Like a wolf.
 Then she remembered putting on some kind of clothing.
More broth might bring her to her senses. With one hand clutching the
edges of the cloak about her neck, she used the other to take the bowl and
sip from it.
The shewolf who wasn’t a wolf but acted like a wolf crawled on all fours
toward the fire. She knelt beside it to stir the contents of the pot suspended
above the flames.
Several sips later, Saylor saw why she believed the girl to be acting like a
wolf. Due to the low ceiling of the wolf’s cave, she was unable to stand
upright.
“This is a cozy den,” Saylor said, glancing around at the meager contents
inside the canvas walls. Noticing for the first time that she sat on a bed of
soft furs she’d mistaken for snow.
The non-wolf female chuckled, shaking her head, wiping from her face a
strand of her hair that had come free of a single braid extending the full
length of her back.
“This isn’t a den,” she said. “It’s a simple tent. My father and I stay in it
when we’re …” The non-wolf hesitated. “When we are out here trapping
game. The tent and fire protect us from the wolves at night.”
Why would wolves need to be protected from wolves?
Of course they would. Survival of the fittest. Every species had their own
internal wars to fight.
“I think it’s wonderful,” Saylor said. “It’s a perfect place to raise little
wolf cubs.”
The non-wolf grinned. “I told you we aren’t wolves. You must really
have hit your head hard. I don’t see any blood but there might be some
swelling.”
Saylor finished the broth and set the bowl near the fire and used her now
free hand to feel the back of her head. She winced as her fingers ran over a
lump the size of a large walnut.
“Yeah. There’s a bump there. I don’t remember hitting my head. My
ankle hurts, too.”
 Saylor thrust a bare leg out from under the cloak, using the light from the
fire to examine it. Odd. It didn’t have the same fur as her arms.
The non-wolf female glanced at her leg and nodded.
“You may have twisted it when you first plunged into the river. Can you
move it?”
Saylor held her breath and tried to raise her toes. Pain coursed up her leg.
“Yep. I can move it. Though it hurts badly.”
“When my father returns, he can examine it further.”
The non-wolf girl turned her attention to Saylor’s wet clothes, wringing
out the water onto the ground. Some splashed on the fire. The droplets
sizzled as they hit the coals, sending up steam around the blackened pot.
The smoke rose upward through a small portal in the tent’s roof.
Once finished, she suspended the clothes near the fire so they could dry.
Someone stamped the snow from boots outside the tent. Startling Saylor.
The shewolf didn’t seem the least bit concerned.
“Come in, Father,” said the non-wolf girl.
Both of them looked in unison toward the tent flap. A tall man with black
hair and a black beard, dressed head to toe in the pelts, entered. Saylor felt
her mouth gape open.
He looked more like a wolf than his non-wolf daughter.
His eyes glistened from the fire. He stared at her, appraising her with a
quick once-over.
“How is she?” said the wolf-like man to his daughter.
His daughter shrugged. “She’ll probably be fine in a few days.”
The wolf-like man tossed a pair of skinned hares near the fire. “Spitted or
stewed?” he asked.
“Stewed,” Saylor answered, though she wasn’t sure the question was
meant for her. “I don’t think I have the energy—though I may be hungry
enough to—to chew the meat. Though I’m sure wolves wouldn’t prefer
them spitted or stewed but raw.”
The non-wolf girl gave her father a concerned look. “She seems to think
we are wolves, and that this is our den.”
 “It’s not surprising,” said the man, his voice as deep as the growl of a
black wolf. “She has wolf on the brain. And her brain has taken a shock.”
“Shouldn’t she rest?”
“Not yet. She needs to stay awake for a bit. Perhaps even get up and
walk.”
“I cannot walk, Mr. Wolfman,” Saylor said, annoyed, “My ankle is
practically broken. Or maybe it’s been gnawed off since I can barely feel it
anymore.”
The wolfman growled. Or maybe it was a groan of concern. Either way,
he knelt and gathered her leg in his hand and began manipulating her ankle.
Saylor let out a cry of pain and slapped the furry beast on his back. That’s
when she realized the furriness was from his coat made from pelts. Not
from his skin.
“Nope,” Saylor said, not wanting him to touch her leg. “I was wrong. My
foot is definitely still attached. But if you keep yanking on it, maybe it
won’t be anymore.”
The brutish creature set her leg back down on the soft furs. “It’s not
broken,” he said. “It’s swollen. I’m going to fetch some snow or maybe
some ice from the river to put on it.”
“And maybe some for her head,” said the shewolf.
The wolfman leaned over Saylor’s head, running coarse fingers across
her scalp. He growled. Or groaned again upon feeling her lump.
He pushed open the tent flap. “She most certainly must stay awake for a
while now. She definitely has a concussion.”
Grabbing a leather bag of some sort, he disappeared outside.
“Put snow on it?” Saylor said, using a finger to clean out her ear. “Is that
a wolf thing? I thought you simply licked each other’s wounds.”
The shewolf shook her head but didn’t argue. “Ice or snow can reduce the
swelling and help it heal faster.”
“Take me home! My mother is knowledgeable in many types of
remedies. She can help me.”
She suddenly remembered her mother wasn’t at home. Still at the market.
 None of this should’ve happened. She’d warned Saylor not to venture too
far from the cabin. If she could’ve stood, Saylor would’ve left the hideous
wolf’s lair. But she had no idea where she was. Nor how to get back.
“We will take you home, when you are well enough to travel,” the girl
said in what seemed like a sincere tone.
The shewolf sliced off a piece of hare and dropped it in the pot. Saylor
wondered if that was the same hare she’d been hunting. Couldn’t be. The
river had taken her miles from home.
“Do you still believe I’m a wolf?” the girl said.
Saylor chuckled, then winced. “I don’t know what to think.”
“I’d love to be a wolf for a day,” the shewolf said. “Wolves are strong
and powerful. Feared by all the animals in the forest. I wish I had their
bravery. Too often, I’m afraid.”
“So if you’re not a wolf, then what animal are you?” Saylor asked.
A stamping of boots ridding themselves of snow signified the wolfman’s
return. He stepped inside, then set a cold leather pouch on Saylor’s ankle.
“There’s only snow in there,” he said. “By the time it melts, it’ll be time
to remove it,” He wrapped a chunk of ice in a cloth. “This will take longer
to melt. Leave it on your head for as long as the pouch is on your foot.”
Saylor placed the cloth of ice on her lump and winced.
“That feels wonderful,” she said after the ice began to immediately ease
the pain.
The two of them were being so nice to her. Suspiciously nice. The calm
before the storm perhaps. Or fattening up the pig for slaughter.
They all sat in silence, watching the flames curl up around the edge of the
blackened pot. The smell of cooking meat reminded Saylor of how hungry
she still was.
While waiting for the hare to fully cook, a wolf howl broke their quiet
reverie. Saylor flinched. The wolfman and his daughter remain unmoved.
The long howl moved Saylor close to tears as she remembered the lifeless
body of the gray wolf lying by the river. She’d almost forgotten what had
gotten her into this predicament.
“He sounds so sad,” said Saylor.
 “That’s a she. The howl is coming from the gray wolf’s mate,” said the
wolfman. “She’ll be lost without him.”
How did he know about the gray wolf?
“Together, they were a mighty force,” said the wolfman. “He the
powerful protector, cunning, skilled at the hunt, feared by rival wolf packs
wishing to encroach on his territory. She the wise mother, skilled at training
the youngsters the ways of the wolf, compassionate yet firm when teaching
them to obey and keep safe, guiding the wolf king when decisions not
needing strength or power were needed. Now, there will be chaos.”
The wolfman disappeared outside again.
“You never answered my question,” Saylor said. “If you aren’t a wolf,
what animal are you?”
“I’m a girl like you. My name is Alana.”
The concussion had left her confused. Saylor wasn’t sure what to believe.
“How did you end up in the river?” Alana asked.
“You ask as if you don’t already know.”
“Maybe the last part,” said Alana, fiddling with the stew pot. “You know,
the wolf or the water. But that’s all. Nothing leading up to that.”
“Well, let’s see. There was an empty snare. Then a hare. A thieving fox.
Then an ox. A scary wolf. And then…” Saylor groaned. “Now I know I’m
not well. That was…that was horrible. It actually hurt.”
Alana grinned. “It wasn’t that bad. Then what? A rapid chase, through a
snowy place…down a hill, oh what a…oh my. I see what you mean. Yeah.
Let’s not do that.”
They shared a giggle. Then sat in silence, nothing but the fire and soft
wind outside.
“I would’ve died, if not for your father,” said Saylor. “I guess I’m lucky
he just happened to be nearby.”
“What should I call you?” Alana asked, not looking at Saylor’s piercing
gaze.
“My mother warned me not to tell people my name, something about not
being able to trust anyone.”
The father returned. He must’ve heard her.
“Her name is Saylor,” he said.
“How do you know my name?”
He shrugged.
“You mentioned it while you were half out of it.”
Saylor grimaced, eyeing him narrowly.
That’s just the type of answer a wolf would say.

OceanofPDF.com
 4
Rumors

Saylor felt her strength returning. Her vision had cleared, the only
hindrance being the darkness of the tent, illuminated only by the fire.
The two saviors weren’t wolves. Humans like her. A father and daughter
whose intentions seemed noble. Saylor didn’t completely trust them yet.
Her mother had instilled that in her. Living in the harsh and dangerous
environment, separated from most human contact, had left Saylor naturally
shy and untrusting.
The pair didn’t seem to be completely forthcoming either. Answers to
questions were evasive and vague. Perhaps they didn’t trust her either.
Saylor just wanted to go home. Her mother would be furious if she knew
where she was and what she had been doing. Mother had instilled in her not
to take risks. Present predicament case in point. The entire day had been
filled with unnecessary risks.
The aroma from the stew filled the tent and Saylor’s stomach grumbled
with approval. Going home would have to wait. Why turn down another
free meal?
More evidence the concussion was fading. She was starving even though
the two bowls she had already consumed were more than she ate in a
typical day.
The father exchanged a look with Alana. It’s like they could read each
other’s thoughts. Saylor wondered what those thoughts were.
“I think the food is ready,” Alana said.
That wasn’t what they were thinking.
The young girl ladled stew into bowls, handed Saylor a portion with a
healthy amount of boiled hare, potatoes, and carrots. Saylor took the bowl
in her hand and stared at it, wondering how best to try and devour its
contents. One of her hands held the ice pack on her head. The other held the
bowl.
Perhaps they could read her thoughts as well. The father answered the
question she was certain she hadn’t voiced. “You can set the ice on your
head down, as long as your head feels ok.”
The cold cloth filled with packed snow was tied together by the cloak
ends. Alana shuffled over and took the ice pack out of her hand and tied the
clasps together, freeing Saylor's hand.
“Thank you.”
A spoon rested against the side of the bowl. Saylor grabbed it and shoved
several spoonfuls of savory broth into her mouth, not realizing how hot it
was. It burned her tongue and sore throat going down, but she hardly
noticed.
She stopped eating only long enough to admire the spoon. “This is quite
fancy. A lot better than the wooden ones I carve.”
“I found them on the road,” the father said.
“Ah,” said Saylor, nodding. “If only I were so lucky.”
For some reason, she didn’t believe him. She ate a few more bites before
asking another question.
“Alana said something about trapping. What kind of pelt fetches the most
coin?”
Alana avoided looking at Saylor or her father, pretending to focus on her
own bowl of stew.
What are they hiding?
The father shrugged. “All are about the same.”
Alana said, “It seems nowadays that due to textiles and looms that only
the rich want furs. They crave the rarest and the softest.”
“So, it’s a relatively small market then,” Saylor said.
The wolfman, er father, he’d always be a wolfman to her, nodded and
grunted.
When the father didn’t say anything, Alana said, “Father says it’s been
like that ever since the king got rid of …”
 “Got rid of what?” Saylor asked, speaking with a mouth full of boiled
potato.
Alana coughed. Or pretended to.
“Ethics,” said the father.
“Of course,” Saylor said. She swallowed a piece of meat. No need for a
follow up question. She knew why that was a problem.
“How far do you travel to get your pelts?”
Saylor wondered where she was in comparison to her cabin. It could be
miles and she was dreading the long trudge back given the state of her ankle
which was still aching.
“A couple miles,” the father said.
Saylor nodded again, not sure if she should be wary of the non-wolf
people or stop trying to pry information out of a father and daughter who
wished to be secretive. Or maybe they were trying to be private for some
nefarious reason.
Saylor finished eating the contents of the bowl and handed it back to
Alana.
“Would you like more?” Alana asked.
Saylor shook her head. “I should probably get going. You’ve been most
generous.”
Alana felt the clothes drying by the fire. “They aren’t dry yet. You can’t
go outside in wet clothes.”
“She can wear one of your extra dresses,” the father said.
“You have an extra dress?” said Saylor. “Trapping must be quite
profitable.”
They didn’t answer.
“I appreciate the offer, but I can’t take one of your dresses.”
“Of course, you can,” Alana said, her face brightening. “We are about the
same size. I bet we’re the same age, too.”
“You’re a year older,” the father said.
Alana glared at him. Saylor wanted to. He never answered how he knew
her name. Now he unwittingly revealed that he knew her age.
 “Did you count my rings?” Saylor said.
They looked at her with twisted lips, obviously not getting her joke.
“Like a tree’s rings. You know. That’s how you know how old a tree is.”
They still didn’t get it.
Saylor shook her head, wondering how they couldn’t understand her little
joke. “Forget it. How old are you, Alana?”
“I just turned thirteen.”
Saylor nodded and smirked toward the father. “Good guess, Mr.
Wolfman.” Although, she wasn’t sure it was a guess.
He ignored her and consumed his bowl of food in a couple of bites.
“Anyway,” Saylor said, “I can’t wear the dress. Once my mother saw it,
she’d know I’d been consorting with strangers. She wouldn’t be very
happy.”
Saylor didn’t intend to mention any of this to her mother.
“When will your mother be back?” the father asked.
How did he know she was gone? Saylor didn’t remember mentioning it.
Maybe she did in the midst of her delirium.
Alana grimaced, pressing her lips together. “Father, I swear, I think you
must have received a knock on your head as well. It’s none of our
business.”
“It’s just simple logic, right?” Saylor said. “I mean, why else would a
little girl like me be out and about all alone unless her parents had gone
away. That must be the reason you drew that conclusion.”
“I sometimes go out all by myself,” Alana said.
Now it was her father’s turn to glare at Alana.
Saylor ignored their little interactions. Alana was right. Her mother was
none of their business. How much money they got for pelts was none of her
business as well.
“I should be ok,” Saylor said. “It’s not far to my cabin. I’ll survive in my
damp clothes long enough to get there and dry them out.”
She had deduced that she must be near her cabin since they didn’t
contradict her. Even though she’d traveled a good distance down the river,
the father had carried her a good distance. If he knew her name, age, and
her mother, then they must live in the same area.
The gray wolf’s mate had also howled. Another clue that they were in the
general vicinity of her cabin.
“You sure you don’t want my dress?” Alana asked.
“What good is a dress when traipsing through the snow? It’d be no good
to me anyway.”
“It’s quite pretty. You can take it and wear it for the planting festival.”
Before Saylor could reply, the wolfman replied rather roughly, “Can you
walk? If you can’t walk, then you can’t make it back to your cabin,
especially not in wet garments.”
“I’m not sure.”
She tried to stand, but immediately sat back down when she became
dizzy.
“Maybe I should stay here for a few more hours,” Saylor said. “I think I
need time for my head to clear. Unless you want me to leave. Then I’ll
manage.”
“We can’t stay here much longer,” the father said. Before either of the
girls could ask why, the father drew back the door flap of the tent and
pointed to the sky. Dark clouds loomed.
“Snow,” the wolfman and Saylor said at the same time.
The father pulled off the pouch of snow on Saylor’s ankle. It had already
turned black and blue, the bruise reaching well up past her ankle bone. Her
mother would surely notice. She’d have to come up with some reason.
Slipped on a rock or something.
“This is not good,” the father said. He grabbed her foot to examine it
more closely.
Saylor winced and groaned. “Yes, Mr. Wolfman. My foot is still attached,
and I can still feel it.”
“It isn’t seriously damaged. A few days of rest and you should be fine.
Which means you can’t walk on it. And with the head injury, you can’t be
left alone either.”
 “Great,” said Saylor, her shoulders slumping. “If I can’t walk on it, and I
can’t be left alone, but we can’t stay here, what am I supposed to do?”
“You’ll have to come home with us,” the father said.
That’s not what she wanted to hear. She didn’t know exactly when her
mother would come home, but she had to be there when she did.
“How will I get to your house if I can’t walk?” Saylor asked. “Are you
going to carry me? Drag me through the snow like a carcass?”
“She can ride with me,” Alana said, excitedly.
Ride what?
The wolfman nodded and left the tent. Once he was gone, Saylor said,
“He doesn’t seem to mind me calling him Mr. Wolfman. I can’t call him
father and I don’t know his real name.”
“He doesn’t like using his name.” Alana felt the clothes again and shook
her head. “Well, it looks like you’ll be wearing my dress after all. You can’t
travel in these.”
“You really want me to wear a dress, don’t you?”
Alana shrugged. “It’s only proper for someone like you to wear a
beautiful dress.”
“For someone like me? You mean because I’m a female of the human
species?”
“That’s not what I mean, though you are partially correct. I often wear
pants when helping my father. A dress, as you know, is most impractical in
the woods.”
“That’s what I was saying.”
“I meant … because … you’re so pretty and all. Much prettier than me.”
Saylor didn’t feel pretty. No one had ever said that to her before and she
didn’t know how to respond. Before she could, Alana pulled fabric of a
deep green from a worn leather satchel. Upon seeing the lovely dress,
Saylor forgot about all her intuitions regarding the wolfman and his wolf
child. The dress was the loveliest thing she’d ever seen in her life.
With Alana’s help, Saylor pulled on the soft fabric over the white shift.
Though unable to stand and fully examine herself, she felt completely at
ease in the dress, as if it had been made for her. Or she for it. It was a
feeling quite foreign. She wasn’t sure if she should entertain it.
Alana grinned and reached toward Saylor, taking some of her hair and
pulling it over Saylor’s shoulder, letting it fall against the fabric of the
dress.
“Now that your hair is dry,” said Alana, “I can see that its beautiful red
tones complement perfectly the color of your dress.”
Saylor gathered her remaining tresses and pulled them together to see for
herself, smoothing the wavy strands against the fabric, her locks extending
down to the middle of her torso.
“I see what you mean, Alana.”
The dress felt so extravagant. Unlike anything she’d ever worn before. So
different from the dirty and tattered clothes she normally wore.
From outside, the wolfman called out. “The horses are ready.”
“Horses?” Saylor asked, her intuition returning. Something wasn’t right
with this picture. “You have more than one?”
“We have three, actually,” Alana said, as she began packing up the things
inside the tent. “How else could we transport all this stuff?”
“Profitable trappers indeed. Some of your pelts must be made of gold.”
The more time she spent with the man and his daughter, the more
questions she had in her mind.

***

Because of her ankle, Saylor couldn’t help load the supplies. She didn’t
like the feeling of being immobile and helpless. Made worse when the
father had to pick her up and put her on the horse. She was used to fending
for herself. It felt weird to be totally dependent on someone else. Especially
since she didn’t know who he was or his intentions.
He said they were taking her to their house. She couldn’t know for sure.
Nothing she could do about it. Totally under their control. Unable to escape
and run away, even if she wanted to.
Which she did. She’d give anything to be back home.
 She said nothing for nearly an hour while they packed everything up.
Moving her jaw muscles irritated her aching head. Sitting idly on the soft
furs inside the tent and away from the elements had given her a false feeling
of haleness.
Truthfully, she was in worse shape than she had originally thought.
Once in motion, her ankle throbbed worse than before, her back muscles
began crying out their discomfort. They’d been slammed and spun through
the river rapids. Saylor didn’t even know the extent of the damage.
The pain in her wrist shot down to her elbow and forced her to hold her
hand against her chest. The soreness in her hip announced it needed
attention. She vaguely remembered being slammed against a boulder on
that side of her body.
For some reason, her leg opposite the one with the twisted ankle had
grown numb.
Prior to the wolfman lifting her and plopping her onto the back of a
horse, Saylor believed she might have been able to walk home herself.
After only a few minutes of riding behind Alana, Saylor realized she’d
never have been able to make it on her own.
Soon, they’d have the darkness and the storm to contend with. The
limited amount of light the dark clouds allowed to reflect off the snowy
landscape hurt her eyes, increasing the dull ache in her head.
Lids shut firmly, Saylor pressed her head to Alana’s back, ignoring the
tickling on her cheek caused by Alana’s furry outerwear.
The hood of Saylor’s cloak helped shield her from the cold, but it was
snowing now. The increasing winds blew large snowflakes onto her face.
With a hurt wrist against her torso and the other arm wrapping tightly about
the wolf-daughter’s waist, Saylor had no free appendage to wipe the cold
flakes away.
She turned her head, trying to use the inside of her cloak or Alana’s fur to
rid her skin of the cold. It didn’t work.
Sensing the path leading slightly uphill, Saylor didn’t dare let go, not
wishing to slide off the back of the gray mare. Until then, the ride had been
fairly smooth. She had no real way to hold on.
One of the gray’s back hooves lost its footing.
 Alana screamed.
Saylor matched her fear with a muted scream.
The mare jerked sideways before righting herself. Somehow, the girls
both stayed on the horse.
The trail of the mountain led along the side of the hill. The only way over
the mountain led them precariously close to the edge. Saylor could see them
tumbling down the mountainside. Even if they miraculously survived the
fall, the father might not be able to get to them.
“Hang on,” Alana said. “It’s about to get rough.”
As if it weren’t already.
Saylor groaned and grabbed a fistful of Alana’s dress and the belt around
her abdomen, squeezing her body closer to the girl, and held on for dear
life.
“I’m sorry,” said Alana. “We can stop for a sec if you need to.”
Saylor shook her head, Alana felt the motion and nodded. The wolfman
must’ve heard their conversation because he said that they couldn’t stop.
They had to get home before the brunt of the storm hit.
The cold began seeping through the cracks of Saylor’s outerwear. Under
the cloak was the thin dress which offered no protection from the dropping
temperature.
If she could walk, she might have been able to keep her muscles warm.
Sitting idle, her body needed more warmth than even her own clothes or
Alana’s body heat could generate.
Saylor began shivering. The shivering amplified her injuries.
The gray mare slipped a few more times, each jolt sending shooting pain
through Saylor’s body. Her fingers clenched Alana’s clothes tighter and
may have pinched a bit of skin. Alana didn’t complain but kept a hand on
Saylor’s wrist, assuring her injured passenger that they were almost there.
After a particularly hard jolt, Saylor groaned.
“Father,” Alana said. “We need to stop.”
“Tell her to hang on,” he said. “It’s not much further.
Alana said nothing and maintained a firm grip on Saylor’s wrist.
 Saylor kept her eyes closed. Half expecting to feel the sensation of
plunging down the mountainside. She thought nothing could be worse than
being caught up in the rapids. Now she wasn’t so sure.
Thankfully, the trail leveled off and the ride became smoother. Without
the protection of the side of the mountain though, the winds became
merciless. Right in their faces, it pummeled them nonstop.
All Saylor could do was hang on and hope for the torture to end.
It did sooner than she expected.
Alana let out a relieved squeal. “We’re here.”
“Great,” said Saylor. “I can’t wait for a warm fire.”
“No. Um…I’m sorry,” said Alana, as if delivering horrible news. “I
mean, we made it to the top of the ridge. The worst part is behind us. We
still have a ways to go.”
“Oh good,” said Saylor, her eyes still closed. “I was afraid you were
going to tell me that we still had a ways to go.”
“I…um…yes. We are nearly there. It’s just around the bend.”
The wolfman halted, Alana reined up behind.
“Look,” he said.
Saylor opened her eyes a tad, trying to see where he pointed. Far below,
she recognized the river and the valley where the wolves had taken down
the mountain ox. It seemed the ox had been largely left alone.
Though barely perceptible, Saylor made out the shapes of black and gray
animals lying scattered throughout the valley. Soon, the snow would cover
the dead wolves completely.
“Chaos,” said the wolfman, shaking his head.
He clicked his tongue, urging his mount to move forward. Alana
followed. Saylor continued staring down into the valley toward the place
where the gray wolf had fallen. She strained to look back until their horses
passed into the trees again, blocking the valley from view.
Exhausted from the effort, Saylor shut her eyes again and rested her head
back against Alana.
“Just around the bend means you live in wolf territory,” Saylor muttered.
She felt Alana nod.
 “I knew you were wolves.”
“Just because we live among them doesn’t make us wolves,” said Alana,
a bit of mirth present in her voice.
“It doesn’t help your case.”
Alana chuckled, her shoulders rising up and down. Saylor winced.
“Don’t laugh. And don’t make me laugh,” Saylor said. “It hurts.”
Alana chuckled again and said, “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
She let out a long and easy breath. Saylor felt Alana’s body relax. It
meant that the worst might be behind them.
“I’ve already concluded that you, Alana, daughter of Mr. Wolfman, are
not a wolf,” Saylor said.
“Wow. What swung you over?”
“You don’t stink.”
Alana laughed. Saylor groaned and then laughed. “Stop it. When I laugh,
my ribs hurt. I don’t think there’s a part of my body that didn’t get rocked
by … by the rocks.”
“I’m not trying to make you laugh,” said Alana, “I’m glad my odor
doesn’t offend your olfactory senses.”
“Fancy talk, Miss Alana. Far too fancy for the daughter of a wolfman.”
“You still think he’s a wolf?”
“The jury is still out on him.”
“Jury? You know about juries?”
Saylor nodded.
“How?” said Alana.
“Mother made me read all sorts of boring books about all sorts of things.”
“You can read?”
“Can’t everyone?”
“No.”
“Can you?”
“Of course, I can.”
“Oh. Then why is it surprising that I can?” said Saylor.
 “I guess I thought that someone who grew up in these mountains
wouldn’t have access to books or even care to read.”
“I suppose one might think that,” said Saylor, fatigue in her voice. “Did
you grow up in the mountains?”
Saylor felt Alana nod.
“If you grew up in these mountains like me, then wouldn’t we both have
the same likelihood of being able to read?”
“Well, I guess so, but…”
“Unless, Alana, daughter of the wolf, you didn’t grow up in these
mountains.”
Alana grew quiet and Saylor’s shivering grew worse, her teeth began to
chatter.
“Don’t…don’t stop…stop talking, Alana,” said Saylor, struggling to
move her jaw muscles.
“What should I talk about?”
“Any…anything. Dresses…ballroom dan…dances…your mother.”
Alana sighed, giving Saylor’s wrist a squeeze, and began talking about all
sorts of things. Saylor heard the words and tried to focus on them. It seemed
her ears had been injured and didn’t have the energy to make sense of the
sounds.
Before long, the sounds conjured up all sorts of images in her head of
people and places and creatures she’d never seen or read about. Or maybe
she had.
Alana’s voice became nothing but a single sound, lulling Saylor to sleep.
Unable to hold on any longer, her fingers loosened their grip. Alana
clamped down on Saylor’s wrist, leaning the opposite direction to keep
Saylor atop the horse.
“Father,” Alana said, her tone giving a full explanation of the situation.
The father spun his horse, guiding his gelding next to Alana’s mare.
“She’s going in and out of consciousness. I’m afraid she’s going to fall
off my horse.”
“Give her to me. Ride ahead and get the fire going. I won’t be far
behind.”
 “Are you certain?”
“I’ll have to risk it.”
Saylor was barely aware of the wolfman lifting her from the saddle to set
her in front of him. He flung his own cloak around her, pulling her tight to
his broad chest.
Alana clicked her tongue and sped away as fast as the horse could, speed
hindered by the deepening snow.
Saylor again felt the coarse fur of the wolfman’s clothes. Her nose still
functioned. He smelled nothing like his wolf-child.
“Just hang in there, Saylor,” said the wolfman.
The wolfman kicked his mount’s flank, urging the horse to bound through
the snow. Saylor clawed the wolfman’s furry tunic, gritting her teeth
together.
The movement no longer smooth, the constant jarring reminded Saylor of
each and every injury. An eternity of pain later, the path wound beneath
leafy trees, the snow lessening. The horse began galloping. Now, instead of
many tiny darts of pain shooting through her, all her injuries joined together
in a single chorus to ache together.
“Almost there. I promise,” said the wolfman.
She no longer felt the cold, only the warmth of the wolfman’s chest and
the pain from the injuries in her body. Tears began streaming down her
cheeks. Just when she felt like screaming and shoving off the horse to fall
into the soft, warm snow, the horse slowed.
The wolfman dismounted and carried Saylor on foot. A door creaked
open then closed behind. The chill of the outside air ceased, replaced by the
warmer cold of the inside of the cabin. Outside the wind howled its
displeasure at being shunted from grasping ahold of Saylor.
Inside, a fire crackled, cackling at the wind, inviting Saylor toward its
flames.
“Put her over here, Father,” said Alana.
He set Saylor down on soft furs near the hearth. Already she could feel its
heat. Her aching began lessening, replaced by shivering again. Alana laid
several blankets on top of Saylor.
 “Try and relax,” Alana said, rubbing a soft hand across Saylor’s brow.
Alana’s voice showed concern. “Father, she has a fever.”
“Her body is simply fighting everything at once.”
“That’s what a fever does.”
“There’s nothing we can do for her. There is no remedy for it. Keep her
warm and conscious.”
Those were the last words Saylor heard before falling into a deep sleep.

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 5
Foxes in the Wolf’s Den

Saylor couldn’t remember ever having been sick before. At least not with
anything more than a sniffle. Her mother had a fever once or twice. Each
time she recovered quickly.
Perhaps it wasn’t a fever. Though layered in blankets and near the fire,
she couldn’t get warm enough. If a fever, wouldn’t she be hot, not cold?
Her muscles shuddered and twitched. Her teeth banged against one
another. Her breathing was rapid like she’d been running. Her heartbeat
matched the breathing’s frantic pace.
What is wrong with me?
The door opened and closed. Again. A cold tendril of air snuck inside
before the door slammed shut, severing it. The wolfman dropped an armful
of logs onto the stones near the hearth. His heavy boots thudded against the
wooden floorboards.
He put several logs into the fire and stoked it. He then felt Saylor’s
forehead with the back of his hand.
“She’s warm but not feverish,” he said to Alana who was tasked with
watching over her. “From the blankets and the fire. Not from a fever.”
“Perhaps,” Alana said. “You seem far more certain than I am.”
“Certain about what?” Saylor said, whispering the words, after he walked
to the other side of the room.
Alana smiled. “Nothing. He’s more certain that you will recover quickly.
I can be a bit of a pessimist.”
“I agree with your father. I always heal quickly. Don’t worry. May I sleep
now?”
The father had given Alana orders to keep Saylor awake. Every time
Saylor’s eyes would shut, Alana would speak something or punch her in the
arm to keep her awake.
“No,” said Alana, at the same time her father said, “Yes.”
Saylor grinned. “My vote lies with the wolfman.”
Alana relented, although she sat next to Saylor and stroked her hair.
When Saylor closed her eyes, she fell right asleep. Stayed in a deep sleep
until the father awakened her with an abrupt and violent shaking.
She let out a yelp. The rough treatment hurt her still healing bones and
muscles.
“Wake up,” he said with a gruff voice.
Saylor groaned. “You said I could sleep.”
“You have been sleeping. For four hours now. I’m making sure I can
wake you. I can’t let anything happen to you.”
“Do you have to be so rough, Mr. Wolfman?”
He flashed her a rare smile. “Do you still believe I am a wolf? Or are you
just pretending you do?”
“Do you expect me to believe I told you my name in a state of delirium?
Or are you just pretending that you didn’t already know?”
His grin grew wider, evidenced by only a slight twisting of his thick
beard. “Go back to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Okay. But when I wake up, I want answers.”
Like she was in any position to demand them.
Once again, it only seemed like an instance before she was awakened, not
by the wolfman, but by a dim light from outside filtering through the glass
windows. The beams fell on her eyelids, coaxing her back to consciousness.
She moaned softly and stretched. Though her muscles ached, pain didn’t
shoot through her like it had when the wolfman had shaken her before.
Lying on her side, she pushed herself up, using her non-injured arm. She
flexed the fingers of the injured wrist, twisting the palm around, finding she
could make the motion without pain. Though it no longer hurt, she stopped
moving it simply due to fatigue.
The fire roared in the hearth, evidence that someone had been feeding it
throughout the night. With its light and the light from outside, Saylor could
make out the furnishings of the simple cabin, a cabin not nearly as simple as
her own. For one, hers didn’t have windows of glass or log walls.
A table large enough to seat four sat near the window, four matching
wooden chairs surrounding it. Shelves near the table showcased plates and
bowls and cups not carved by a simple woodsman. Ornate livery draped
over a bed tucked into the corner of the cabin, opposite a smaller bed
hosting the sleeping form of Alana. Strands of her now unbraided blonde
hair lay strewn across her face.
Spying her own clothes drying by the fire, Saylor stood, forgetting it
should be difficult due to her injured ankle. Only after she took a step did
she remember she had twisted it. Applying weight to the damaged foot
didn’t cause pain. Surprisingly.
She glanced down. Most of the bruising had vanished. Standing on one
leg, she stretched the injured ankle, making circles with her toes. Had the
wolfman let her sleep sooner, she might have healed quicker.
Walking without a limp, she crossed the room to her clothes and felt
them. Since they were dry, she changed out of Alana’s shift dress and
donned her own clothes, socks, and boots. She began looking for her cloak
then stopped, remembering she’d removed it and hurled it toward the black
wolf while making her escape from it.
She’d also left her quiver of arrows and bow and skis beside the dead
gray wolf. She could find more staves to use as skis, carve another bow,
spin more string and craft more arrows. It’d be more difficult to replace her
cloak. And it’d be a very difficult journey back to her own cabin without it.
While she tried to decide what to do, the door creaked open and shut. The
wolfman piled more logs by the hearth, doing so quietly so as not to wake
Alana. Barely acknowledging her presence.
Satisfied with the fire, he poured water from a brass basin into a large pot
and hung it over the fire. He sat in a lush chair, its fabric that of a furry
animal Saylor didn’t recognize and pulled out a pipe. After filling it with
tobacco, he used a small piece of kindling to light it.
As he puffed, he stared at the fire, eyes glistening.
Saylor suddenly remembered the conversation from the night before.
Speaking low so as not to wake Alana, she said, “Who are you? You said
we’d talk.”
“Who I am,” he said, puffing out a thick ring of smoke, the scent
smelling sweet and smokey, “is not important.”
“You’re right. Because who you are not, is what I’m interested in. How
do you know my name?”
He shrugged. “Not many people live in these mountains. As a simple
trapper, I make it a point to know my neighbors, in case I ever need their
help. Or they need mine.”
She didn’t believe him. He had a smug grin like he didn’t care.
“I’ve never seen you. I’ve never seen anyone else up here.”
“You meet only the ones that woman you’re with wishes you to meet.”
Saylor narrowed her eyes. “You mean my mother, right? Yes, she is very
cautious of strangers. As am I.”
She could see why her mother might not want her to meet the father, but
why wouldn’t she want her to meet Alana? Another girl her own age. It
didn’t make sense. Even then, Saylor had been all over those woods. She’d
never seen him or Alana before.
“Your mother is not only cautious, but she’s a liar.”
Anger rose up inside of Saylor. How dare he speak that way about her
mother!
“Forgive me for saying so, but everything about you is a lie, Mr.
Wolfman!”
“I have not lied to you. I’ve said very little, in fact.”
He puffed out another ring.
“You are not a simple trapper,” she said defiantly. “You may trap some,
but you have furs and pelts from animals not native to these mountains. I’ve
lived my entire life up here, in one cabin or another in different valleys and
behind different ridges. You did not trap those animals here.”
He continued to stare at the fire like he was ignoring her. Or she didn’t
warrant a response.
She continued. “You have a finely carved table and chairs. Your daughter
has multiple dresses. You use utensils made of pewter or silver, and you
have three horses. Three! That means during the winter, which is longer
now due to the curse of the dark queen, you have to barter and trade or pay
for grain, feed, and straw to last the long months. No simple trapper can
afford to do that.”
“The queen is not responsible for the dark clouds and long winters.” His
voice quickened as he said it. She’d struck a nerve when she mentioned the
queen.
“My mother says the queen is evil. And she has no reason to lie to me.
You are the one being deceitful.”
His jaw clenched in anger, and he sat forward in his chair. “I shall not
stand by and let you or anyone else say anything negative about the queen.”
He was practically shouting. Saylor cowered back in fear. It looked like
he was about to strike her. One blow from his massive hands would send
her flying across the cabin.
“Father,” a soft voice came from the other side of the room. Alana was
awake. Saylor jumped out of her chair and backed toward her.
The father sat back in his chair and clamped his jaw shut around his pipe
and took in a long draught before puffing out a wisp of smoke with no
discernable form to it.
Alana was sitting up in her bed. The long tresses framing her face hung
loosely over her shoulders and down to chest. She snuggled a blanket
around her shoulders. She swung her feet over the edge into a pair of furry
slippers and stood, the folds of her white nightgown falling down to her
toes.
“I heard you arguing,” she said nervously.
“It’s of no concern of yours,” the father said, gruffly.
“I apologize, Saylor,” she said, shuffling close to the fire. “I heard you
talking about the queen.”
“What have you heard about the queen?” the father said roughly to his
daughter.
Alana hesitated. She seemed afraid of her father as well.
Saylor answered the question for her. To direct his anger off of Alana and
on to her.
 “The queen usurped the throne and grew jealous of her sister or some
other woman and banished her,” Saylor said. “Then the queen of darkness
married a necromancer in league with demons, and together, they brought
darkness on the land, bringing not only the dark clouds but creatures and
monsters never before seen in the kingdom.”
The father scoffed.
“The queen sends them out to do her dark bidding,” Saylor said,
emboldened. “My mother brought me to the mountains to escape the reach
of the evil queen and king who seek out and destroy anything good.”
Alana nodded. “That’s what I heard as well.”
The father’s eyes burned like the embers. But he held his tongue. Saylor
thought it best to try and diffuse the situation.
“Now that I’ve spoken it aloud, it does seem a little farfetched. I’ve no
reason to believe anything different, though. That’s what my mother told
me.”
“Don’t believe everything your mother tells you,” the wolfman said. His
voice dripped with a mix of anger and sarcasm.
“Why shouldn’t I believe my mother?”
“I do not trust her.”
“How do you know her?”
He didn’t answer.
“Why have I never met you before? Why have I never met Alana
before?”
“I don’t want my daughter anywhere near your mother.”
Anger boiled up inside of Saylor like a caldron. Tears formed in her eyes.
“My mother raised me and provided me with love and everything else I
needed. If we lacked anything, we sourced it from the forest or traded for it.
I’ll not stand for anyone saying anything ill about my mother!”
Alana pulled on Saylor’s arm. “My father doesn’t trust anyone, Saylor.
Please, don’t take any offense by it. He’s been isolated for far too long and
doesn’t understand how to maintain good manners.”
The wolfman took a long drag from his pipe and half-coughed on the
smoke.
 “Why did you save me from the rapids?” Saylor asked.
“I did what I had to do.”
A thought occurred to her. She felt her mouth fly open.
“You’ve been watching me, haven’t you?” Saylor asked. “You saw me
fall in the river because you were following me.”
He didn’t say anything although she could tell he wanted to.
She suddenly felt like her life was in danger. Like she was being held
prisoner against her will, even though no one had tried to stop her from
leaving. That’s because she couldn’t. Until now.
All she needed was a reason.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Saylor. “I’m thankful that you did save me. I’m
going outside. I need to relieve myself.”
“There’s a chamber pot in that alcove beyond,” Alana said.
“I prefer to go outside.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s too cold. There is privacy in the alcove.”
Saylor wasn’t sure how to press the issue without it seeming obvious that
she wanted to escape. She’d have to wait for another time.
She found the little nook with a door on it and saw the metallic basin. She
picked it up and frowned. “Copper?” She shook her head. “Simple trappers,
indeed!”
Alarm bells were going off in her head.
The wolfman was supportive of the queen who her mother said was
wicked. He said he didn’t trust her mother and didn’t want Alana to be
around them.
Fine by her! She didn’t want to know them either. They were obviously
up to no good. Maybe not Alana. Who had been so nice to her. She seemed
to agree with Saylor about the queen.
He’s working for the queen! Sent to spy on them. To round up dissenters.
That’s where he acquired his riches.
That’s the only thing that made sense. No one could acquire this much
wealth trapping.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to go outside and do my business,” she
said, after a plan formed in her mind.
 Saylor opened the door. A gust of windblown snow hit her in the face.
She didn’t realize the conditions were so bad. She wrapped her scarf around
her nose and the top of her head and stepped outside, closing the door
behind her.
She half expected the wolfman to follow her outside. He didn’t. He could
wait. Her plan to run home suddenly seemed silly. If not impossible. They
had three horses. She had only two feet. And there’d be only one set of
footprints to follow.
Oh well. She had to try.
The cold was invigorating. Outside, her resolve strengthened.
Though the snow was deep, Saylor plodded toward the trees, hoping the
snow would be less deep there.
She’d only gone twenty paces before she heard someone calling her
name, the sound weak amidst the howling of the wind.
Saylor turned around.
Alana, wearing nothing but her nightgown and furry slippers, stood
outside the door of her cabin, the wind thrashing her untethered hair about
her face.
“Saylor,” she said, trying to yell atop the wind. “Come back. It’s too cold.
You’ll freeze to death.”
Saylor ignored her and turned back toward the trees. Alana yelled out her
name again, begging her to wait.
Saylor stopped and turned again. “Go back inside, Alana. I’m going
home.”
“I’m going with you.”
Alana, using her arms as her coat by clutching them to her torso, took
another step forward. Her slipper remained behind. She struggled to
maintain her balance while taking another step.
“You’re mad!” Saylor shouted. “Go back before you freeze, or you’ll lose
your toes to the cold.”
Alana ignored her and took another step. She tripped on the high snow
and fell face forward into it.
 What’s going on? Why does she want to come with me? What about her
father? Was she afraid of him as well?
So many questions flashed through her mind. While she wanted to run
and get as far away from that place as possible, her feet were frozen in
place and not because of the cold snow.
She was torn. She couldn’t abandon her friend. Alana had been nice to
her. Even contradicted her father. Faced his ire as well when she disparaged
the queen. She probably didn’t know he was working for the wicked
woman.
Alana pushed herself back to her feet then drew her hands to her mouth,
breathing on her fingers and palms to warm them.
Saylor turned away and took several more steps. She stopped and pressed
her lips together. She looked back at Alana. She’d fallen again in the snow,
struggling mightily to stand this time.
Saylor glanced toward the cabin, wondering when the wolfman would
come out. If he wasn’t concerned yet, he would be soon.
Alana stood and tried to take another step, only to fall forward into the
snow, plopping deeper this time.
“Go back, Alana,” said Saylor, yelling above the howl of the wind.
“I can’t make it back. I’m stuck in the snow.”
“Sooner or later your father will come and save you. Good-bye.”
Alana raised her head, her hair thick with snow. She started to cry. The
icy substance clung to her lips and eyelids.
She pushed back to her feet and stood in the burrow her body had
formed, as if the cold had frozen her in place. Her arms hung limply by her
side, unable to move them to try and shield herself from the frigid wind.
Saylor had to turn back. She couldn’t leave. Alana would freeze to death.
Her father wasn’t coming. Maybe he fell asleep by the fire. By the time he
went looking for her, she could be dead.
Saylor retraced her steps. Plodding over the snow. She helped Alana to
her feet. Tried to lead her back to the house, but Alana resisted.
“Are you afraid of your father?” said Saylor.
Alana shook her head quickly. “Of course not.”
 “Then let me help you back to your cabin. Your father will be worried.”
“My…my father would…save you before he saved me, Saylor,” said
Alana, the chattering of her teeth louder than the roaring gale pelting her.
“Why would you say such a thing, Alana?”
Alana pressed herself against Saylor’s torso, clinging to her warmth. “He
… he thinks …” Alana paused to compose herself. “He thinks you are the
daughter of the queen. You are the princess of … the light.”
Saylor shook her head. “That’s crazier than me believing you and your
father were wolves.”
“He’s sure of it.”
“And what about you? What do you think?”
“I think…” Alana couldn’t stop shivering. “I think that I will go wherever
you go, Princess Saylor.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

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 6
Healings

The wolfman still hadn’t come for his daughter. Saylor had no other choice
but to help Alana back into the house. She took her hand and supported her
with her shoulder. Not easy to do considering she still wasn’t healed of her
own wounds.
“I’m going to help you inside,” Saylor said, “then I’m going home.”
“Pl … please, Saylor. Don’t go,” Alana said, struggling to form the
words, her frosted lips unable to function properly. “Porridge. Then you
leave, you can.”
“I’m not hungry. I just want to go home.”
“You’ll never make it. Not without shoes of snow,” Alana said.
“You mean, snowshoes?”
Alana nodded, her movement nothing more than her head vibrating.
“I don’t have snowshoes. Or skis. I used to have skis.” Her words tapered
off as she thought about the skis she left by the river where the great wolf
died.
“I have skis,” Alana said.
“You have skis? Like, real skis, not planks of wood or carved branches?”
Alana nodded. “Rrr … real.” She was shivering. They needed to continue
this conversation inside.
“Are they nice?”
“The … the best.”
It made sense to stay if she could get her hands on those skis. That’d
make it much easier to get home in the snow.
The decision was made. She was going back in.
 As Saylor trudged slowly toward the cabin, the door flew open, and the
wolfman rushed outside. A few strides later, he swept Alana into his arms
and rushed her inside. Saylor stood alone outside the cabin not sure what to
do next.
She was faced with a decision. This was her chance to escape. But
nagging questions ate at her soul.
Who was the wolfman? Why did he think she was the evil queen’s
daughter?
Her mother had always been so secretive about her father and why they
had to live in the mountains. Isolated from everyone else. Her mother was
like the wolfman in some ways. Evasive. Unwilling to talk about certain
things.
If she left now, she might not ever know. She could ask her mother, but
doubted she’d get a straight answer. Especially if she were hiding a deep
dark secret.
The best thing to do was stay and ask more questions. If the wolfman was
lying, then it didn’t matter what he said. If he wasn’t, then … her life was
about to be turned upside down. Everything about her life had been a lie.
It might be a trap. The wolfman putting doubts in her head in order to
gain her trust.
She wasn’t sure. That’s what she needed to find out. She took two steps
toward the door. It seemed like the most prudent thing to do anyway. The
weather was nasty. She wasn’t dressed for a trek through the snow. Those
skis were vital to her survival.
It seemed like she had no other choice but to go back inside and wait for
another opportunity to escape. Maybe she could get some answers while
she waited. From the wolf.
It occurred to her that he might’ve sent his daughter out into the snow to
lure her back in. He could’ve run and grabbed Saylor easily, though. He’d
grabbed Alana with no effort at all. That made no sense. They were playing
a game. Wanting her to come back willingly. Well, it worked.
“Wolf?” she said to herself. “No. You are more like a fox. That’s twice in
two days I’ve been outfoxed.”
 Once inside, Saylor found Alana shivering by the fire, trying to thaw out.
She forgot all about queens and wolves and the origin of her birth. All she
cared about was Alana. She’d gotten extremely close to her in a short time.
Alana had only been outside for a short period of time but had only been
wearing slippers. It seemed her feet had gotten the worst of it. If her father
did send her out in that situation, he was a cruel man.
Saylor knew from experience that the mountain winters could be brutal.
You could die of hypothermia within minutes. Mother warned her about
going outside without the proper clothing. Especially shoes. She said she’d
have to cut Saylor’s toes off if she let them get too cold.
Saylor always thought she was kidding. Now seeing Alana’s feet turn
purple, made her not so sure.
Alana’s father had a sense of urgency about him. He seemed concerned.
He brushed out the snow from Alana’s hair and gathered it together at the
back of her head, keeping the damp tresses off her neck and shoulders. He
rubbed the side of her arms and pressed his body against her back to try and
warm her.
Maybe Saylor had been too quick to judge. Thinking her father didn’t
care what happened to his daughter. He was desperately trying to help her.
Saylor sat on a stool next to Alana and held one of her hands, trying to
usher warmth into the cold fingers, hoping her own body heat would travel
into Alana’s nearly frozen limbs. Alana had been in the frigid elements for
far less time than Saylor had been in the river yet seemed to be in a worse
condition.
Alana was shaking. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked from the
shivering, and she couldn’t muster the words.
She struggled to remain in a sitting position in the plush chair her father
had been using. As of yet, she still hadn’t taken a sip of the warm broth
stewing in a pan alongside the pot of porridge on the fire. That seemed like
the quickest way to warm her up.
Her father poured warm water from a third pot heating on the hearth into
a basin full of Alana’s purple toes. At first, he had her feet extended toward
the fire but pulled them back, probably fearing she’d lost some feeling in
them and could burn her skin.
 He felt the water with his hands, clearly making sure it was warm but not
hot enough to scald his daughter’s skin. He picked up one of Alana’s feet
and moved her toes up and down.
He frowned and placed the foot back in the water.
“I hope she doesn’t lose a toe or two, Mr. Wolfman,” Saylor said,
sincerely. Remembering her mother’s words.
He shook his head. “She’ll be okay.”
Without looking up, he asked Saylor out of the blue, “Was it worth the
risk?”
“What do you mean?”
“You were trying to escape.”
“Why do I need to escape? Am I being held against my will?”
He shook his head. “You are here voluntarily. Not by force. Or by
anyone’s will but your own.”
“I only wanted to go home.”
“You should wait until the weather clears. I hope you don’t try something
so foolish again. You put my daughter’s life in danger trying to save
yourself by your own foolishness.”
Saylor didn’t ask Alana to follow her. His daughter did that on her own.
Saylor wasn’t going to say anything about Alana wanting to go with her.
“I hope you will give me the answers I deserve,” she said. “That’s why I
came back. That and to help Alana.”
“What do you know about hope? You’re just a child.”
“Do you want to know my hopes? My aspirations are simple, Mr.
Wolfman. I hope to survive the winter to plant next year’s harvest. I hope to
learn to become a better hunter and trapper. I hope to someday meet a man I
can marry and give children to. And I hope to make a friend at some point
in my life.”
Tears welled up in Saylors eyes.
“Which I may have found in your daughter. She came after me because
she was afraid for my life. She was right. I would’ve died trying to make it
back home. I owe her my life.”
“My daughter is as foolish as you are.”
 “She’s smarter than you think.”
“What will you plant for next year’s harvest?” the wolfman asked,
changing the subject. “Nearly nothing seems to grow this far up the
mountain except trees and weeds.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re so busy spying on innocent girls and their
mothers to learn the proper way to plant carrots and potatoes,” she said
bitterly. No longer trying to hide her disdain for the man.
“Potatoes? Even the farmers in the plains have trouble growing potatoes.”
“Well, our problem is that I eat too many of them. I hope to grow more
this planting season.”
The wolfman returned to the three pots over the fire and checked each
one. He scooped porridge into a bowl and handed it to Saylor.
She pushed it away with her hand. “I’ll not eat until she does.”
“Then feed it to her.”
Saylor scowled and took the bowl. She held the warm substance against
Alana’s lips that had lost some of their purple hue, some of the pink had
returned. Alana’s lips closed down around the edge of the spoon, ingesting
a small amount of the gruel. After swallowing, Saylor coaxed her to take
some more. A few bites later, Alana shook her head, and Saylor set the
bowl down.
“So now what?” said Saylor. “I’m here inside your cabin, not planning to
go anywhere until the wind dies down and I am bonding with your
daughter. Is that what you wanted? A devious plot if I must say so myself.
Maybe you were the one who sent your daughter into the cold after me. If
you were trying to trick me into staying, then you succeeded.”
“It wasn’t a plot or a ploy or a scheme or a tactic, Saylor,” said the
wolfman, checking on his daughter’s feet again.
“If you say so,” said Saylor. She shook her head at the wolfman’s attempt
to massage Alana’s feet.
“Stop,” Saylor said, kneeling. “Let me do that.”
The wolfman backed off. Saylor took Alana’s foot and began rubbing the
skin with her fingers, exerting only a small amount of pressure at first.
Confident the skin was in good shape, Saylor pressed a little harder,
manipulating each toe up and down on its own. Her mother had done the
same thing for her on more than one occasion when she stayed out in the
elements too long.
“Your daughter seems to think, as you do, that I’m the daughter of the
Darkness Queen,” Saylor said. “Or the Queen of Light. Why does she think
that?”
“Because you are.”
“Is there some sort of test you want to give me?” said Saylor. “Something
I can do to prove I am just a simple mountain girl? Look at me. I’m no
more a queen than Alana.”
“Your mother knows the truth. Ask her?”
“Fine. Forget it. I’ll stay here today because I’m worried about Alana and
want to make sure she’s going to be okay. Tomorrow, I’m going home. To
my mother. If she made it back, she’ll be worried about me.”
The wolfman nodded.
“I will ask her then.”
Alana seemed to be regaining her strength. She said, “Music, father. Play
some music. Please.”
Saylor’s face whirled toward the wolfman, her eyes beaming. “You play
an instrument? Let’s hear it.”
It had been years since she’d heard real music. For a moment, she forgot
that she was mad at the wolfman.
He groaned in disapproval.
“Please, Father,” said Alana. “It’ll help warm my heart, which feels
frozen.”
He rummaged in a chest and pulled out a five-stringed instrument
resembling a lyre. Sitting on a stool, he began tuning it, plucking each
string individually and twisting the wooden knobs at the end until satisfied
with the pitch. Content with all the strings, he formed a chord with his left
hand and strummed with his right. He flexed the fingers on his left hand and
tried again.
After switching between several chords, he began to play a tune, the
melody soft and sweet. Saylor didn’t know if it worked to warm Alana’s
heart, but it warmed hers.
At times, the wolfman seemed so harsh and cold. At other times, he was
gentle and seemingly without guile. When he spoke, his voice and manner
were harsh. When he sang, he sounded like a baying wolf pup. His deep
bass voice echoed off the wall.
The song ended. Saylor smiled, placing Alana’s foot back in the basin.
“Look at her toes,” Saylor said. “They’re already getting their color back.
Your father’s playing is quite magical.”
“It’s not his music that is magical,” Alana said, her voice soft but steady
and strong. “Father, play something merry. That one is dour and makes me
want to cry.”
The wolfman began plucking at the strings, the beat of this song lively.
Unable to stop herself, Saylor stood and began swaying with the music.
“I seem to remember you saying something about dancing someday,”
Saylor said, taking Alana by her hands.
Alana smiled and shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly …”
“Nonsense. Now that you can feel your toes, it would be good for you to
move around. Get the blood flowing through your muscles. Come on.”
Saylor pulled Alana to her feet, helping her step out of the basin onto the
wooden floor. Unsteady at first, Alana’s strength soon grew as Saylor
guided her away from the crowded area near the hearth to the openness in
the middle of the room. The fingers of their hands clasped together, Saylor
and Alana began moving to the music.
Alana skipped in step with the beat. Saylor tried to copy her movements.
Alana led Saylor around the room, kicking out with a leg here and there.
Saylor learned the simple dance and together they performed the
movements as the wolfman plucked out the melody, his boot tapping the
beat.
Beads of sweat began appearing on both their brows, Alana’s face going
flush. She collapsed into Saylor’s arms and giggled.
Alana’s father rose to his feet, but she threw up a hand. “I’m fine. I’m
fine. Just tired. I think I need to sit back down.”
Saylor helped her back to the chair. Alana’s chest heaved as she sucked in
air.
 “Perhaps,” said Saylor, “we can do something less invigorating, like
reading a book.”
Alana chuckled. “I’ll teach you the king’s gambit.”
The wolfman set a small end table by Alana’s chair and set out the pieces
of the game on a checkered board. Alana explained the rules. Saylor had
read about the game but never played it. At first, she couldn’t understand
how it could be considered fun. After a few games, she grew intrigued at
the strategy needed to try and win.
“You’re improving greatly,” said Alana, after her tenth straight win.
“You’re already a much better opponent than my father.”
Saylor grinned and reset the board. “One more?”
Alana shook her head. “I’m tired. I really need to sleep now.”
Saylor helped Alana to her bed. It seemed she was asleep before her head
hit the pillow. Saylor walked back toward the fire and sat in the plush chair
beside the wolfman who sat on his stool, puffing his pipe again.
She stared into the flames, transfixed by its movement and crackling.
“Ok,” she said. “Although I don’t have a reason to think my mother is a liar,
and it’s possible she’s not lying but simply heard the wrong things, tell me
what you know about the Dark Queen.”
The wolfman growled softly and puffed out a ring.
Saylor said, “It should be up to me to know what to believe. Right? If I
am the queen’s daughter, don’t you think I have a right to know?”
He exhaled through his nose, sounding like a wolf snorting. “Very well.”
He took a big, long drag from his pipe.
“Long before you were born, a queen and her king ruled the land with
grace, compassion, and fairness. When she took the throne beside him, she
convinced the king to banish the old ways that kept peasants poor and
subject to their lords, promising the lords greater wealth if they agreed.”
“I have heard the same thing.”
“Though many grew resentful at losing their feudal serfdoms, due to the
Queen of Light’s influence and, some say, her magic, the lands prospered.
The kingdom’s harvest was bountiful, metallurgy flourished, craftsmen of
all kinds entered the cities. Soon, the kingdom became the envy of the
surrounding empires. With the increase in trade, the king and queen built up
their armies and navy, making it unrivaled. None dared to invade.”
“Those must’ve been good times.”
“The queen soon became with child. With the promise of an heir, the
people believed their boon would continue for generations. But by some
curse of fate, her daughter was stillborn. Word spread, as did resentment. If
the queen was cursed, the people said, then that curse would pass to them.
The king himself blamed the queen for the child’s death.”
“But why? It happens, doesn’t it? Babies are often stillborn. Why would
he blame her?”
“People, in their anger and sorrow, often blame those least responsible.
Perhaps he believed that if the Queen of Light, the very brightness of the
sun, couldn’t save her own child, then the favor from the gods must have
departed from her. Her power must be gone.”
“That makes sense.”
“The king grew angry and called upon the powers of darkness and dark
magic to take control of the lands and keep the restless lords at bay. When
the queen rose to oppose him, the Darkness King overpowered her. The
queen fled for her life. With her gone, none could stand up to his dark
power. He ruled fiercely and relied on ambitious and evil lords to coerce the
people into submission, continually blaming the queen for the dark curse
brought upon the land.”
“That is quite different from the version I heard,” said Saylor. “You are
saying the queen isn’t evil. That the king is the evil one. Why would you
believe the queen’s daughter is alive if the child was stillborn?”
“I do not believe the child I saw in the bassinet was the true daughter of
the queen.”
“Why not?”
“By sheer happenstance I overheard one of the maidens assisting in the
birth talking. She mentioned seeing a child with fire upon her head leave
the queen’s womb and expressed sadness that the fire had burned out,
leaving the child with a crown of ashes. At the time, I thought nothing of it,
thinking the simple maiden was being metaphoric.”
“What do you think she really meant?”
 “I believe the maiden saw a girl with bright red hair pulled from the
queen and later saw a girl with black hair in the bassinette. I have spent the
last twelve years searching for a midwife raising a girl with fiery red hair.”
“I can’t be the only girl in the kingdom with red hair. What you are
suggesting is … it’s worse than madness. It’s … I can’t even say it. I’m
sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Wolfman, but your search must continue
elsewhere. I am not the princess. And do not wish to be. After I return
home, I wish to be left alone.”
“As you wish.”
“And I will ask my mother. She’ll tell me the truth.”

OceanofPDF.com
 7
The Third Day

The storm passed, the wind less and the day as bright as could be under the
cover of dark clouds. The wolfman insisted on guiding her back home.
Convinced she was the daughter of the queen, he seemed to have taken on
the role of protector.
Saylor still didn’t believe the story. But if he wanted to come with her,
she wouldn’t stop him. It made things easier in some ways. He provided her
with makeshift boots and skis and knew the fastest way home.
Wolves might also be around. It wouldn’t hurt to have him along to scare
them away.
She kept pace as best she could behind the wolfman. The stringed
paddles beneath and attached to her boots made traversing the snow easier,
especially when going uphill, but she was still no match for his strength and
long strides.
When the trail led downhill, they both paused to remove the snowshoes
and strap on skis. It took only a few seconds for Saylor to get comfortable
with the sleek wooden staves, their tips curved upward to ride over the
snow, the bottoms waxed to glide over it. The thin poles used to push down
into the snow and help propel her forward had been expertly carved, the
flared-out rim at the bottom helped to keep the sharpened pole from
plunging deep into the surface of the snow.
Once on skis, she kept pace with the wolfman, often chiding him to go
faster. Her lighter frame made it easier for her to glide over the snow. She
preferred the skis and snowshoes to riding horseback. That wasn’t the
reason they took the skis and not the horses. The deep snow simply didn’t
suit travel by the massive horses. For the same reason the wolfman had
trouble maneuvering on the skis.
 Standing next to him in the light, reminded Saylor of how mammoth a
man he was. Broad shoulders. Thick arms and forearms. His hands were the
size of her head. At least it seemed like it. All of it muscle as best she could
tell. Although, he was always covered in thick clothing which added to his
girth but also made nimbleness on skis next to impossible.
They reached the bottom of a hill without incident and stopped briefly to
switch back to the snowshoes to travel along the mountainside, hoping to
cut over the top of it and shorten the distance to her cabin.
It had only been a few hours, but she already missed Alana. The wolfman
insisted she stay behind at the cabin, even though she had completely
recovered from her bout with the snow. Her toes looked like they’d never
been affected.
Another confirmation in the wolfman’s mind that Saylor was the
daughter of the queen.
“When you touched her toes, they were miraculously healed,” the
wolfman had said.
Saylor hadn’t realized it at that time, but he was right. One minute, Alana
was writhing in pain, unable to even walk. The next minute, she was
dancing to the wolfman’s lively tunes. There had to be a different
explanation though.
Alana wasn’t in the cold that long. Once she was by the fire, the warmth
returned to her toes, and she was fine. It didn’t have anything to do with
some magical powers. Saylor was a common peasant mountain girl. Not the
daughter of a queen. And certainly not a sorcerer. While she wished she did
possess those powers, it was nonsense.
As long as the wolfman believed it true, he’d stay close to her. As soon as
he realized she wasn’t who he was searching for, he’d leave the area.
Taking Alana with him.
Saylor and Alana warmly hugged as they said goodbye to one another.
The two girls promised to make time to see one another again.
Alana had said, “I would still be your friend even if it turns out you are
not who my father believes you are. If you’re not her, then I’m afraid that
we will have to leave. Look elsewhere. I don’t want to. I might never see
you again.”
 Saylor wiped the tears that had formed in her friend’s eyes and fought
back her own. After several more hugs, they were off. The image of Alana
standing at the door of the cabin waving goodbye was fixed in Saylor’s
mind.
Saylor would be left friendless again. Perhaps she already was. No
guarantee that she’d ever see her friend again.
She’d never thought much about having friends. It was a luxury wealthier
people had. Saylor had no time for it. Something always needed to be done.
Clothes needed sewn and repaired. Nets to trap fish in the streams needed
mending or re-weaving. Arrows needed to be made after losing them while
hunting.
Wood needed to be gathered. Seeds planted. Plants harvested. Herbs
ground up for medicinal remedies. Remedies sorted and prepared for
market. Snares set. Snares reset. Hares and squirrels skinned. Meat cooked.
Pans washed. Spoons carved after the old ones cracked. Shingles on the
roof reinforced. Leaks stopped up.
Who had time for friends?
As Saylor trudged up the hill, the list of things that needed to be done
once she got home began piling up in her mind. That had been the worst
part about being stuck in that cabin for three days waiting for the storm to
pass.
As much as she loved being with Alana, she preferred to be at home
working. Clothes didn’t mend themselves. Food didn’t magically appear on
her table. Snow continually sought out the cracks in the roof.
Her mother would be furious if she got home, and those things weren’t
done. Saylor had a lot of explaining to do anyway. She’d lost her cloak and
skis. Her injuries were healed, but some light bruising remained, and the
cuts might form into scars.
The subject had to be broached. She’d have to ask her mother about the
tale told by the wolfman. No way to bring it up without revealing how she
had met him and his daughter. She could leave out some of the details that
made her look bad, but she’d have to be forthcoming about a lot of things.
Hopefully, her mother wouldn’t come home until she had her story
straight.
 The wolfman stopped at the top of the ridge and paused to rest and
survey the valley below. Saylor stopped next to him and took out her
canteen, draining the last of her water. That was one thing she hadn’t really
thought of before, something he had insisted upon.
“Drink as much as possible,” he’d said. Hydrate, as he called it. “And
don’t do so by eating the snow.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too cold. It’ll sap your energy. Keep your canteen near your body.”
Saylor rarely traveled far enough in the winter to require bringing water,
figuring she could munch on the snow if necessary. Her mother hadn’t said
anything about that. She never had a father teach her the ways of the woods
or how to survive in the wintry months.
The wolfman told her to fill it with snow and let her body heat melt it.
After she did so, she let it hang inside her coat outside her tunic.
She shuddered to think what might’ve happened had she not returned to
the cabin. She would’ve died. The journey was hard enough now with
snowshoes and skis and plenty of water and warm dry clothes. What would
it have been like without any of those things and the scant clothing she had
on that day?
No way she would’ve survived.
“We should get moving,” the wolfman said.
Saylor nodded, then took in the view from the top of the ridge. What she
saw startled her. She recognized the valley below.
This was where the entire adventure started. Down by the river where the
gray wolf was killed. She hadn’t recognized it at first because it was filled
with snow.
No dead wolves or mountain oxen were visible. Saylor thought of the
cloak lying near the dead gray wolf. Her bow also sat buried beneath the
snow there. If she could find it and the arrows, it’d be one less thing she’d
have to do upon getting back home. One less thing to explain to her mother.
She strapped on her skis. “I’m going down there.”
“What? It’s too dangerous. I don’t think the wolves have sorted
themselves out yet.”
 “Then prepare to fetch me out of the river again,” said Saylor with a grin.
Before he could answer, she hopped toward the slope and began speeding
down the mountainside. Nearing the tree line surrounding the valley, she
tucked the poles under her armpits and bent her knees. Preparing to dodge
the trunks.
The skis responded to her subtle movements, giving her excellent control
to zip between the trees. She kept her focus ahead, not sure if the wolfman
had followed. She ducked beneath a low branch and turned to the side,
swishing between two trunks.
Another tree had fallen directly in her path, causing her to veer sharply to
the left barely missing it. The bottoms of her skis skimmed the edge of the
tree bark sending her airborne. She landed shakily but kept upright,
throwing the poles out briefly to steady her and push to the side, dodging
another tree.
Abruptly, the smooth bank ended, a tree having toppled down to the
roots, leaving a gap behind. She sailed over the edge and easily landed this
time. The trees thinned as the open dale drew close. The slope began
leveling. An open field her destination.
Saylor slowed and looked back to see if the wolfman had followed and, if
he did, had safely navigated the trees. He wasn’t there. Had he fallen? If so,
there wasn’t much she could do about it other than go get help. No way she
could lift him.
A moment later, the wolfman entered the clearing, though he emerged
forty paces to her left, having taken a different path down. A feeling of
pride welled up inside of her that she had beaten him down the path without
hitting any of the trees.
As if the snow and mountain wanted to take her down a notch, she hit a
mound in the snow and toppled sideways into a snowbank. The wolfman
skied up to her. Once he saw that she was okay, he roared laughing. The
first time she’d even seen him crack a smile.
He obviously thought her falling and covered with snow was humorous.
When she tried to stand, she fell again. He began laughing harder.
That made her laugh. She fell backwards into the snowbank on purpose.
The tension between them dissipated like a puff of his pipe in the wind.
 He stood there shaking his head at her.
“Are you going to help me up or stand there laughing all day at me?”
He moved closer and reached out his hand. Effortlessly, he pulled her to
her feet. She was about to remove her skis when the wolfman began sliding
one ski in front of the other to travel across the level snow as if skating on
it. She’d never skied like that before.
It took her a few minutes to get a rhythm, but she eventually got the hang
of it, covering the remaining distance to the river quicker than if she had
walked. Sweating and panting, she stopped and drank from her canteen.
“What are we doing here?” the wolfman asked.
“I left something here. I want to find it.”
She removed her skis and began poking in the snow, hoping to hit her
frozen cloak, trying to remember exactly where she’d set her quiver and
bow.
The pole hit something. She dug down and found her cloak, the fabric
now stiff. She uncovered it and set it on top of the snow.
The bow had to be close as well. She tried to remember where she’d been
kneeling. Her ski pole hit something. It dawned on her that it might be the
dead wolf. His carcass was next to the bow.
With her hands, she began clearing the snow away. She hit something,
causing her to pull back in fright.
The gray, black, and white pelt became visible through the snow. Sadness
overwhelmed her. The same feeling she felt when she saw him die three
days before.
Without fully understanding why, she cleared the remaining snow from
his beautiful coat now matted by dried and frozen blood. His massive paws
were bigger than her hands. She brushed the snow from his bushy tail
which was now stiff as a log.
The wolf deserved dignity, so she carefully uncovered its snout. His
glassy eyes stared up at her. Open and fixed, like they were frozen in place.
She futilely tried to close them. His icy lids remained firmly in place.
On both knees, she scanned the great wolf’s body, running her fingers
over his coat. With both hands on his massive flank, she bowed her head
and sighed. A tear came to her eye and ran down her cheek.
Why? Why would she shed a tear for this animal?
She exhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Movement.
Saylor jumped back.
The wolf’s eye lids moved. Maybe its head. Maybe she was imagining it.
She blinked twice. Unable to believe what she was seeing.
“Did you see that?” she asked the wolfman.
He had been looking away.
“The wolf moved.”
“That’s impossible. He’s dead.”
“I know what I saw.”
His flank moved again on its own.
Saylor screamed. The wolfman’s mouth flew open but no words came
out.
A soft wheezing sound filled the air. Then a coughing sound.
Saylor wanted to run away, but it’s like her feet were frozen in place. All
she could do was stare as more air filtered through the wolf’s nostrils and
filled his lungs.
“Get back!” the wolfman shouted.
At least that’s what she thought he said. Her thumping heart was
pounding in her chest and ears.
The wolf’s tail twitched. His legs began stretching out. His ears flinched,
the hairs of them flicking away the snow.
His breathing rate increased. His head rose off the snow.
For whatever reason, she wasn’t afraid.
The wolf blinked, like he was trying to focus his vision. The vacant look
of death vanished, and the yellow orbs were full of life now.
He turned his head and focused on rolling off his flank and onto his
knees. After some effort, he made it and sat up on his legs, mouth open,
tongue out as he panted. Not caring about the coldness, the wolf licked the
snow, drawing in as much moisture as possible.
 With more prompting, Saylor did step back. Next to the wolfman. Who
had a knife in his hand. Saylor put her hand out to stop him from using it.
The wolf stood onto his massive paws. His fur vibrated and expelled the
cold flakes from it. His head stooped down, his jaws snapping up the snow.
He shook off more of the icy substance packed against his coat and took a
shaky step forward, standing in fresh snow.
The wound on his side where he’d been gored was visible but was no
longer an open wound. The wolf began to lick the blood off of his fur until
his coat was clean and glossy.
He ignored the two humans watching.
Several minutes had passed.
The wolf lifted his head toward the sky and howled. His call echoed
through the mountainside, as if to say, “I’m back. I’m not dead.”
His message too important to be restrained by death.
The great wolf glanced in Saylor’s direction and looked at her. Not in a
menacing way, but almost like his eyes were thanking her.
What did I do?
The wolf suddenly turned and trotted toward the mountains. Without
effort. As if he’d never been wounded. Never died.
That’s impossible. She saw him die. No way he survived it.
And yet he had.
Saylor watched the wolf leave. Her own breathing became erratic, and
she fought to control it.
When she faced the wolfman, he said nothing. The surprised look on his
face was gone.
“Did you see that?” she asked. Realizing how foolish it must’ve sounded.
Of course he did. He was standing right there next to her. Why was he
unmoved? As if he saw the same thing every day.
“Do you still doubt me?” he asked.
She didn’t know what he meant.
“Doubt you? About what?”
“That you are the queen’s daughter.”
 “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You grow plants where no others can. You survived the frigid waters
and the deadly rocks when all others would perish. You gave vitality to my
daughter and restored her frozen toes. And you brought the great wolf king
back to life. Resurrecting the dead is the final proof, Saylor.”
“I did not resurrect the wolf.”
The wolfman said nothing. He simply looked at her.
“I didn’t do that. How could I bring the wolf back to life?” said Saylor,
arguing with him. Though he didn’t argue back, letting her argue with
herself. “He wasn’t dead. That explains it. Only wounded. Frozen in the
snow. Stiff as … ice. But my touch warmed him. Like it would ice. That’s
all.”
The wolfman twisted his lips to the side in disbelief.
“Don’t look at me like that. I did nothing. Wolves can last for days under
the snow. Without air. Right?”
Her arguments grew more frantic. “Alana purpled when her toes were …
I got frigid because rivers heal. I mean … many potatoes grow people! It’s
true. Many potatoes … Stop looking at me like that!”
What she was saying didn’t make sense.
The wolfman’s knowing gaze hadn’t changed. Allowing her to work out
the truth.
“I DID NOT RESURRECT THE WOLF!” she shouted. The soft snow
seemed to eat the sound. Not even the forest wished to echo her denial.
The wolfman simply nodded.
A range of emotions flooded her mind. Doubt filled her thoughts. What
the wolfman said was true. The wolf was dead. Alana’s toes were healed.
Saylor did survive the rapids.
And her wounds. Three days ago, her ankle was purple. She couldn’t
even walk on it. Now she was flying down the mountain on skis. That was
normal for her. Wasn’t it for everybody?
“Only the Brightness Queen herself could raise the dead,” said the
wolfman. “As well as her mother before her. It’s an ability passed down
from generation to generation.”
 “I have to get home,” Saylor said, her voice a shaky whisper.
“This isn’t your home.”
“I’m not leaving my mother or the mountains.”
The wolfman scanned the surrounding trees and ridges. “You may have
no choice in that regard.”
“Why? Are you going to take me away?”
“Never. But the power you just displayed will be felt by the powers of
darkness. They will be drawn to it. As will the king, Your Majesty.”
“I am not the princess. Don’t call me that again, Mr. Wolfman!”
“You cannot deny your fate, Your Majesty.”
He bowed his head before her.
None of this made sense. All she wanted to do was get home. To her
mother.
To finally get some answers.

OceanofPDF.com
 8
A Mother’s Love

A thin billow of smoke seeped from the chimney of the small cabin nestled
in the crook of the mountainside, signaling to Saylor that her mother had
returned. When she turned around to tell the wolfman, he was gone.
Disappeared like a puff of smoke in the wind. Obviously, not wanting to
risk her mother seeing him.
The whole thing had been so confusing. Tales of kings and queens and
special powers. Saylor didn’t know what to think. Hopefully, her mother
would provide some answers. If Saylor could muster up the courage to ask
her the questions burning in her soul.
Not wanting to explain them to her mother, Saylor removed the borrowed
skis and snowshoes and stowed them inside a hollow tree just out of view
of the cabin. Her mother would already have a thousand questions of her
own. Saylor needed an answer for each of them.
“Where have you been?” her mother would demand to know.
“I got trapped in the snowstorm and rode it out in a cave,” Saylor would
say confidently.
“What were you doing out in the snowstorm to begin with?”
“I went to check on my snares. When I went out, the storm wasn’t that
bad.”
“Don’t you know you could’ve been killed?”
“I know. It was foolish. I won’t do it again.”
“Why aren’t your chores done?”
“Because I’m a princess! I shouldn’t have to do any chores.”
The last thought caused Saylor to laugh out loud. Eventually, she’d have
to ask her mother about that. But that conversation played out worse in her
head.
 “Am I a princess?” Saylor would ask.
“What makes you think that?” her mother would say lovingly.
“Because a trapper dressed in furs said he saw me in the queen’s bassinet
when I was a baby and accused you of stealing me from the queen.”
“Oh, Saylor. You are so wise to trust a strange man. Any other reason to
think that?”
“I raised a wolf from the dead. How did I do that if I’m not the princess?”
“Well, of course, dear. That explains everything.”
Yeah. That’s exactly how it would go.
Saylor sighed. Perhaps she wasn’t scared of asking her mother for the
truth. Maybe Saylor was scared of the answer. If she was the princess,
everything would change. Especially between her and her mother. Or the
woman who said she was Saylor’s mother. That didn’t seem like a fun thing
to try and sort out.
The wolfman wasn’t going away, either. She’d have to explain it to him.
Unless Saylor wasn’t the princess. Then he’d leave. So, she might not have
to tell her mother about him. But then she’d have to explain what made her
think she was the princess in the first place.
Saylor almost yelled. The intense thoughts were making her head hurt.
The lies she’d prepared to say wouldn’t work. Unless, of course, Saylor
didn’t ask the most important question of her life. Her mother might be mad
at Saylor for lying, but if true, she was the one who had been lying all these
years.
To tell lies or seek the truth?
Or find food. Maybe that should come first. She didn’t have to decide
right that second.
Cold and tired and hungry and standing outside the cabin freezing half to
death was only delaying the inevitable. Taking a deep breath, she trudged
through the deep snow toward the door, reaching the path already cleared
by her mother.
Using both arms, Saylor forced the wooden door open, its fit in the jamb
still askew despite her many attempts to fix it. When the door was halfway
open, she saw her mother crouching near the hearth, snapping twigs and
placing them on the fire.
“Saylor dear, before you come inside, go gather some more firewood. I
just arrived and haven’t had time to build a good fire.”
Relief flooded over her. Her mother hadn’t been there long enough to
question Saylor’s absence. All that worrying was for nothing. Her mother
didn’t have a clue that she’d been gone for more than three days.
She could ask the questions on her own terms at the right time.
“Yes, Mother,” Saylor said, stepping back outside and closing the door.
She waded through the snow toward the rear of the cabin, frowning at the
mountain of snow atop what should have been dry firewood, carefully
stacked under a lean-to shelter against the exterior cabin wall.
The roof had collapsed under the weight of snow, burying all her hard
work. The wood would be wet now and harder to burn. After digging it out,
she found only the top of the wood was wet. The logs underneath the rubble
had remained dry.
Gathering an arm-full of them, each thinner than her arms, Saylor carried
them back to the cabin. She set them inside but stayed outside.
A greater fear consumed her. One she’d noticed walking around the
house. One that made questions of kings and queens and magical powers
the furthest things from her mind.
Snow was piled up on top of the roof. Had she been there over the last
few days, she would’ve gone out periodically and cleared it off so the roof
wouldn’t collapse. Saylor was surprised it hadn’t already fallen in.
If it did, they’d be exposed to the elements. Everything inside would be
ruined. Another snow could come up at any time. They might not survive it.
At the very least, they’d be miserable until they could repair it. Which
might not be until the weather warmed.
Saylor unburied a ladder under the eave and jammed it into the snow,
leaning its top rung against the roof edge. Taking a stave with a flat roughly
hewn board tied perpendicular to it, Saylor climbed the ladder and began
pulling down the snow, getting a face full several times.
It appeared that she got the snow off in time. Satisfied the roof wouldn’t
cave in, she went back to the wood pile and grabbed another arm-full of the
small logs. Once they’d been deposited inside, she set about trying to mend
the lean-to that had been keeping the snow off the firewood. Not having the
right tools, she settled for covering the remaining pile of firewood with the
fallen wooden shingles.
Back inside, she removed her boots and set them by the hearth, preparing
to sit down on the rickety wooden stool by the warm fire.
A far cry from the luxurious chairs in the wolfman’s home.
She looked around the cabin, almost embarrassed by how rudimentary it
was. Three days ago, she thought it was luxurious because she didn’t know
better.
The stool was uncomfortable, but Saylor welcomed getting off her feet.
The journey had taken longer than expected and the exertion had left her
tired. She couldn’t let her mother see how tired she was or she might start
asking questions.
“Saylor, dear, can you peel the chiva before you sit down?”
I’m already sitting down.
Saylor had never once defied her mother. At least not to her face.
Considering how much she had blatantly defied her mother over the last
three days, she certainly wasn’t about to start now.
She nodded and walked toward the thick wooden plank that served as a
table. She grabbed the furry and coarse root and began scraping its skin off
with a rusty knife. A skill in itself. Get the thick skin off while saving as
much of the root as possible. Regardless of how bad it tasted.
After chopping them into tiny pieces, she gathered several handfuls and
dumped them into the pot her mother had prepared over the fire. Before she
could sit down, her mother had a few more tasks for her. Darn a pair of
stockings. Mend a tear in her cloak. Get the table ready for supper.
Though tired and wanting to sit, she dutifully did as asked. Besides,
complaining would lead to explaining. She was too tired and hungry for
that.
Saylor used thick black thread to repair the garments, keeping the stitches
as small as possible. Not wanting to have to redo her work down the road.
Satisfied with her sewing, she cleared the garments from the table. As well
as other unfinished projects Saylor had neglected. She checked to see if her
mother had something else for her to do. Each additional task pushed off the
questions.
And made the whole idea of being the queen’s daughter seem ludicrous.
Even bringing it up seemed like foolishness.
With no more tasks forthcoming, Saylor sat on the stool and took the
proffered bowl of stew, using the spoon she’d carved to eat the bland soup.
She brushed aside the thought of comparing it to the wolfman’s spoon.
Or to his porridge for that matter, that was filled with wondrous spices.
Surprisingly, the taste of her mother’s stew gave her comfort since it was
what she’d grown up with.
Saylor felt guilty for even having those thoughts. Her mother had
sacrificed so much to provide a roof over her head and food for her belly. It
made her mad at herself that she felt even the least bit of ingratitude.
When they finished eating, her mother smiled, positively beaming with
excitement.
“What is it?” Saylor asked.
Her mother’s hands played with the folds of her brown dress. “I’ve been
trying to hold it in, and I was going to wait. But I can’t.”
“Why do we have to wait? I want to know what it is.”
Her mother rose and rummaged through a ragged satchel near the only
bed in the house and pulled out a small package wrapped in brown cloth.
She sat down and held it out.
“I got you something. I was going to wait until your birthday, but I can’t
wait. Open it.”
Saylor’s eyes went wide. She grinned and took the small package and
pulled the cloth aside.
“Oh, Mother, it’s beautiful,” Saylor said, running her fingers over the
gilded cover of the leather tome, feeling the raised lettering of the book’s
title stitched with purple thread. Carefully, she lifted the cover to stare at the
ornate lettering on the almost white pages.
She’d never seen anything so luxurious. Even the wolfman had nothing
that would compare to this.
Saylor was stunned at such an extravagant gift.
 “It’s the tale of Markul and Marella, told in the most beautiful poetry,”
her mother said, scooting her stool to sit beside Saylor. “It’s been a while
since I got you a book.”
Saylor could hardly say anything, so many things rifled through her
mind.
“But … How? I mean, this looks new. Not tattered or torn like the others
we have.”
“It’s as new as can be, I expect. Straight from the capital city. I ordered it
months ago. Picked it up while I was there.”
“But how did you afford it?”
She waved her hand dismissively.
“I’m sure there are other things we needed,” Saylor said. “This feels like
it’s too much.”
“Stop it, Saylor, dear. Maybe it was a little costly. But you’re worth it. I
only wish I could give you more.”
Now Saylor really felt guilty. Forever doubting her mother’s love. The
wolfman had put those thoughts into her head. That she couldn’t trust her
mother. That her mother was a liar.
This woman who had sacrificed so much for her over the years, had done
it again. This time at great sacrifice. Her socks had holes in them. Her cloak
was torn. She could’ve used the money for new socks and a new cloak.
Instead, she spent it on a book for her.
Because of Saylor’s impulsiveness, the whole roof of the house could’ve
collapsed. While she gallivanted about dancing to music and listening to
wild tales of queens and missing daughters. Foolishly chasing wolves.
Then resurrecting them.
She shoved that thought aside. It wasn’t helpful at the moment.
“Mother, I have quite enough,” Saylor said. “I mean, except for another
pair of boots, I’m not wanting for anything.”
Her mother turned away, the smile fading. “I guess if you don’t like it, I
might be able to exchange it.”
“No. Of course, I love it. I do. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to sound
ungrateful. I’m just thinking about how much it cost. I mean, how did you
pay for it? We don’t have any money.”
Her mother stood, gathering the dirty soup bowls to wash them in the
wooden basin by the shuttered window. “Don’t you worry about that,
Saylor. Enjoy the book. Perhaps before we go to bed, you can read some of
it aloud.”
Saylor studied the book and its thick pages. Many paintings and images
of people and places and horses and other creatures filled the insides. She
couldn’t help but grin, despite knowing it must’ve cost a lot.
“Well, Mother, don’t you worry as well. Come spring, I’ll plant the
potatoes. I’ve saved a lot more this season. We should get a healthy crop
and have plenty extra to last us the winter as well as plenty to trade. I may
be able to get you a beautiful blue shawl.”
Her mother stopped washing the bowl. For a moment, only the crackling
of the fire filled the room. Noticing the washing sounds had ceased, Saylor
looked up from the book and turned toward her mother. She was kneeling
by the basin on the floor, her hands deep in the water though not doing any
washing.
“Mother,” said Saylor, setting the book carefully on the stool, “whatever
is the matter? I do love the book. I’m so sorry.”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’m glad you love the book.”
A thought struck Saylor between the eyes.
The potatoes.
That’s how her mother paid for the book. By swapping all the potatoes
Saylor had been saving.
The joy from the book suddenly turned to anger. Her shoulders slumped.
She’d gone hungry more days than she could count, fighting off her desire
to devour every last potato, resorting to chiva and beet roots and a number
of other barely palatable foods when meat grew scarce.
And her mother traded them away for a book without asking her!
What a waste.
Saylor rushed to where the potatoes were stored. Livid when she found
only one basketful left with only a handful of spuds. Barely enough to plant.
 She hadn’t sacrificed her taste buds for a book. Maybe for new boots. A
beautiful dress even. Not a book. Although she adored reading, other than
providing kindling in the rarest of times, books served no purpose at all in a
desolate land inside a dreary cabin.
She couldn’t eat or wear a book.
Turning from her mother, Saylor put her boots back on, ignoring their
dampness, and headed toward the door, grabbing her coat, then donning it.
“Saylor, I did it for you. I wanted you to be happy.”
“It’s fine,” Saylor said, pulling open the door, almost welcoming the cold
breeze that blew across her face. “I have to check the snare lines. I forgot
earlier. I’ll be back soon, so don’t worry. Actually, I know you won’t worry.
It seems you never do.”
Saylor slammed the door behind her and stomped through the snow
toward the borrowed snowshoes. She donned them, then patrolled her
customary path and reset her sprung traps and snares, moving them as
needed to be nearer the animal tracks.
Muttering as she went, she made more noise than was necessary, likely
scaring away any game hiding. While fuming, her concentration lapsed.
One of the snares snapped. She puffed out air and kicked the snow. She
hadn’t brought extra string and didn’t feel like returning to grab more.
Oh well. It’d be one less snare she’d have to check in the morning.
Once finished, the dim light remaining did little to illuminate her cabin,
making it seem dark and desolate. Not wanting to go inside and face her
mother just yet, Saylor cleared the snow from the top of a stump and sat on
it.
Never before had she thought the cabin so lonely or insufficient. She
disliked herself for wishing she was back in the wolfman’s cabin. Saylor
turned and scanned the forest and the mountains above it, wondering if the
wolfman and his daughter were watching her.
It didn’t matter. They could watch her all they wanted. A small part of her
hoped they were watching from somewhere nearby. Somehow that thought
made her feel not so alone in the vast expanse of the snowy forest and
mountain valleys.
 She suddenly resented her mother. Who left a young girl home alone for
more than a week to fend for herself? Saylor almost died. It would’ve been
her mother’s fault.
And what did her mother do when she saw Saylor for the first time? She
didn’t run and give her a hug. Or ask how she’d been or where she was.
No. All she wanted to do was start ordering her around. Barking out
orders. Cut the chiva. Sew my socks. Fix my cloak. Get more firewood.
The wolfman was right. She couldn’t trust someone who’d trade potatoes
for a book. It was bad enough to endure the hunger of winter. Now Saylor
would have to suffer all summer as well. Work extra hard to survive.
It didn’t seem like her mother even cared. If what the wolfman said was
true, then it was possible her mother didn’t worry or care about her because
she wasn’t truly her mother.
Saylor shook her head and cursed the wolfman. She didn’t want to doubt
her mother’s love. Never had Saylor been given a reason to doubt.
She didn’t have one now, she decided after a long think. After all, her
mother had sacrificed as well, also eating the chiva instead of the tasty
potatoes. She’d done so to buy something for Saylor that normally they’d
never be able to afford.
Her mother hadn’t bought herself a new dress or shawl. She bought
Saylor a luxury item. And Saylor had shown anger instead of gratitude.
So what if her mother hadn’t hugged her. That was Saylor’s fault as well.
There’d been plenty of hugs in the past. Recently, Saylor had pushed some
of them aside, thinking she’d grown too old for them.
If Saylor was being honest with herself, if her mother had rushed to give
her a hug, that would have been suspicious behavior. For that matter, Saylor
didn’t rush to give her mother a hug either.
And chores needed doing. Mostly because Saylor was gone and hadn’t
done them. Her mother had to come home to an empty and cold house.
Build a fire herself. Saylor should’ve been there with a fire going and a hot
meal already in the pot.
Upon seeing that the chores weren’t done, her mother hadn’t said a
chiding word. Instead, she acted as she always had. Loving and kind. So
what if she asked Saylor to fetch the firewood. Affection and hugs and
pleasant conversation could wait until the work was finished.
Saylor knew that.
The darkness now consumed the mountainside. She stood and took a step
toward her cabin. She stopped and turned back, scanning the forest and
mountains all around, searching for the uneasy feeling suddenly taking hold
of her. She didn’t know if the wolfman and Alana watched her. But she had
the sense that something did.
She shuddered and hurried inside.
Even though the anger had lessened, it wasn’t gone completely. Saylor
wanted to confront her mother but couldn’t find the words. Nothing more
was said between them. Just a distance as cold as the logs under the ruined
shed.
Once in her nightshift, Saylor crawled into bed with her mother,
clambering over her to take her normal place against the wall. By the way
she breathed, Saylor could tell her mother was still awake even though her
eyes were closed
After taking in a deep breath, Saylor said, “I’m sorry I was out so late. I
said I’d read from that beautiful book, and I forgot. I do love it.”
“I know, dear. You can read tomorrow.”
“Thank you for the gift.”
“You’re welcome. You are a wonderful and special daughter.”
Saylor sat up in the bed unable to hold it in any longer. “But Mother, why
would you trade the potatoes for a book? You know I’ve been saving them.”
“You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
Her mother sat up and faced her daughter. “It doesn’t matter if you have
one basket full of potatoes or a dozen.”
“It does matter.”
Her mother sighed. “I suppose it’s time to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“To tell you why you can grow potatoes in the mountains when no one
else can. And that when I say you are a special daughter, I mean that you
are really special. You have powers that you don’t know you have. You can
grow a whole field of potatoes with only one spud.”
Saylor would’ve fallen out of the bed if she wasn’t against the wall.

OceanofPDF.com
 9
The Hidden Truth Revealed

“You are special, my dear, Saylor. You have magical powers. You can plant
one potato and reap a whole field of harvest.”
Her mother’s words had sent Saylor’s thoughts and emotions into a
tailspin. In not so many words, she had confirmed that everything the
wolfman said was true.
It started to make sense. If she had powers that only the evil queen had,
then she must be the queen’s daughter. And her mother must have had a
good reason to lie all these years.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the potatoes?” Saylor asked. Not willing
to venture into the subject too fast. Not willing to reveal how much she
knew, in case her mother tried to lie to her again.
“You were too young to understand.”
“I’m thirteen.”
“You haven’t always been thirteen, sweetheart.”
“Don’t you think I had a right to know?”
“I kept it from you for your own good.”
“How was practically starving to death for years for my own good? If I
had known, I could’ve produced enough potatoes, so we never went hungry.
We could’ve traded the extra potatoes for meat and fine things like the
book. I could’ve given you a better life.”
“With you in my life, Saylor, my life is perfect. If we, poor mountain
folk, had more than we should, or if anyone found out about your power,
they’d take you, it’d be too dangerous.”
“How?”
“People might try to take advantage of your power. For selfish reasons.
Or be afraid you’d use your ability, not for good, but for evil, like―”
 “Like the queen?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I already know about my power anyway.”
“You do? You know you can grow crops easier than others?” said her
mother, eying Saylor carefully.
“Yes. Well, no. Actually, I didn’t know that.”
“Oh. Ok. I’m confused.”
“I mean, I didn’t know about that power.”
“That power?”
Saylor cringed.
Her mother asked, “Saylor, what are you talking about?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” she said, not knowing why she was lying.
“Saylor! What other power do you think you have?” Her voice began
growing in intensity.
“No other power.”
“It’s important you tell me,” demanded her mother, near panic in her
voice. “What other power do you have?”
“I resurrected a wolf,” Saylor blurted.
Her mother’s eyebrows rose by at least an inch on her forehead.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“You know I don’t lie. I saw a wolf die three days ago. This morning, I
placed my hands on him, and he returned to life.”
Saylor expected her mother to react with utter disbelief. She didn’t. As if
she already knew Saylor had those powers. She didn’t claim Saylor had
been seeing things or dismiss it or laugh it away as superstitious nonsense.
Instead, her mother jumped from the bed and began donning her dress.
“What are you doing?” Saylor asked.
“Hurry! Get dressed. Pack as much as you can.”
“Why?” Saylor asked, remaining in the comfortable bed. Not
understanding why her normally calm mother was acting hysterically.
“We must leave immediately! That’s why. Come now. Don’t delay.”
 “Leave? What are you talking about? We just got home. Where will we
go?”
“I don’t know. But we can’t stay here.”
Her mother came over and pulled on Saylor’s arm, practically dragging
her off the bed.
“Mother, this is madness. It’s the middle of the night. Tell me why we
must go outside.”
Her mother’s voice changed from frantic to sober. “We aren’t simply
going outside. We’re leaving this cabin forever. Quickly, gather your
things.”
“I don’t understand, Mother. Stop. Tell me what’s going on.”
“You’ve always trusted me before. Trust me now.”
“I trusted you implicitly until I learned you lied to me.”
“We have no time for this.”
Her mother began gathering their limited belongings and stuffing them
into a satchel.
“Is it because I said I resurrected the wolf? Wolves aren’t evil, Mother.
We have nothing to be afraid of.”
“You are a child. You have no idea the danger you have brought upon
yourself.”
“You said that wolves are evil. That’s what you always told me. But they
aren’t. The great gray wolf ran right past me. He isn’t evil.”
“Fine, Saylor. Wolves are not evil. Satisfied? Now, hurry!”
Saylor didn’t move from her spot on the edge of the bed. “And men
aren’t evil either.”
At this, her mother stopped packing and grabbed Saylor’s arm. “What do
you mean? Who have you met?”
“I met a man.”
“Who did you meet?” Her mother shook her arm. Violently. “Tell me!”
“You’re hurting me.”
“I want to know who you met. Right now.”
 “A trapper and his daughter. They live north and west of here. The
daughter was kind. Her name is Alana. She’s my friend. Her father saved
my life after I jumped into the river.”
“Why did you jump in the river?”
“The wolf was chasing me.”
“You just said the wolves aren’t evil and yet they were chasing you.”
“I said the great gray wolf wasn’t evil. The ox killed him. Then his pack
chased me.”
“You aren’t making sense. Is the great wolf dead or alive?”
“He’s alive. I brought him back to life.”
“And you are positive you did that?”
“I laid my hands on him, and he came back to life. Then he ran into the
woods. He didn’t bother me at all.”
“Hurry, child,” she said in a distressed voice. “Get dressed and get
packed.”
“Tell me why.”
“We’ll discuss this later. We must leave now.”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me why.”
“There’s no time, Saylor.”
Off in the distance, a wolf howled. It frightened her mother even more.
Saylor stood unmoved. “Wolves aren’t evil, Mother. You know this.”
Her mother nodded. “That’s true. But there are things in this world that
are evil. Other wolves. And creatures of the night.”
“Tell me why I should fear them coming after me. I’m not leaving until
you tell me.”
Saylor crossed her arms in defiance, not moving from the bed.
Her mother stopped trying to pack and looked around the cabin. As if
trying to make up her mind. Seeing Saylor sitting firmly, her mother sighed
deeply and nodded. Resigning to the decision she made.
“Very well, Saylor,” said her mother, her voice calm. Sad. “It’s probably
better this way.”
“Better what way?”
 Her mother sat on the stool near the hearth. Speaking softly, she said,
“Get dressed. Then come sit beside me. Ok? Please?”
The change in her mother’s voice broke down Saylor’s defiance. She
rushed to comply. Throwing on her clothes as fast as she could. Her mother
smiled sadly, motioning for Saylor to sit back on the bed. She ran soft
fingers through Saylor’s red hair, caressing her cheeks. Then pulled the
blanket around Saylor, making sure her daughter was warm. Covered.
Her mother leaned in, so her face was near Saylor’s and began speaking
in a soft voice. As if someone might hear them.
“Do you know why I never worry when you go out?” her mother asked.
“Why I would leave you home alone for a week?”
Saylor shook her head.
“It’s not because I don’t love you or care. It’s because I can see your
light. Wherever you go, a light follows you. Even on the brightest of days, I
can still see the glow reaching to the heavens. You have an aura about you
that few can see right now. But It’s growing stronger. I dress you in furs and
animal skins to try and hide it. To me, it’s still visible for miles.”
“Why do I have this light? Is this common?”
“No, it is not common. Except for those … Saylor, the queen is not evil.
When you were young, you heard the rumors in the towns. The people were
afraid. I let you believe them. Because I was afraid to lose you. But it’s not
true.”
“That’s what the wolfman said. I didn’t want to believe him.”
“A wolfman?”
“The girl’s dad. He’s not a wolf. He’s all hairy and looks like a wolf. He
stinks. Like a wolf. That’s what I call him because I don’t know his name.”
“What else did he tell you?” she asked.
“To ask you for the truth.”
Her mother took in a deep breath and began unburdening herself. With
secrets that she’d held close to her heart for many years. She talked slowly
at first. Then the words began to come quickly.
“When I was early on with child, my husband, who was a soldier, died in
service to the king. News of his death devastated me. In my grief, I
withdrew to a small cabin outside the town, hoping to ignore those looking
for a midwife.”
“Mother, I never knew that. Why didn’t you tell me? That must’ve been
so hard.”
Her mother nodded. “I did not eat, instead, allowing my sorrow to
consume me. Alone in the forest, my child came early. But she did not have
the strength to survive. When I saw that my daughter―the last piece of my
husband I had―was stillborn, I drew further into myself and my sorrow and
longed for an eternal sleep.”
“So that child wasn’t me?”
“No. I thought I had hidden sufficiently away from the world, but the
king’s guards found me that same day before I had even buried the child.
They told me my midwifery services were required by the queen. That she
was in the throes of giving birth. To come quickly. As they waited for me to
gather the necessary herbs and ointments, a wretched thought took hold of
me, one I gave into and am ashamed of.”
“What did you do Mother?”
“I hid the dead child in my blankets and took her with me. When the
queen’s child was on her way out, I yelled that there was a complication.
That the queen’s life as well as the child’s life were in danger. I screamed
orders to the other midwives and maidens, telling them to fetch all sorts of
unnecessary items. I commanded the queen’s brother to fetch the surgeon.”
Tears began to form in her mother’s eyes. Saylor didn’t remember ever
seeing her mother cry.
The pain in her heart became evident in her voice.
“While the maids and servants scrambled about, I drew out the queen’s
daughter, hoping the baby wouldn’t cry. When no one was looking, I placed
my own child in the bassinet and the living girl in my bag of blankets.”
“Oh Mother, you didn’t.”
The tears began to pour down her mother’s cheeks. She didn’t bother
brushing them away.
“When the servants returned and people filed into the room, I told them
that the baby was dead. As the queen mourned, I left. In the chaos that
ensued, none paid me any mind as I fled the castle, the babe in my arms
wrapped in blankets.”
“You stole the queen’s baby.”
She nodded. Her face writhed in pain. “For a short while, I hid in my
cabin. Fearing the king’s soldiers would find me. They didn’t come. The
king wasn’t looking for me. Like all the others, he thought his child had
died. It seemed I had escaped notice. Was free.”
“That baby was me?”
“Yes.”
“So the wolfman wasn’t lying. I am the queen’s daughter?”
The look on her face confirmed what the wolfman said was true. Saylor
found it difficult to breathe.
“Even then, you had an aura. Though it was dim. Fur shielded most of it.
But not all. As I began to prepare to leave, something worse than the king’s
soldiers came for you. Creatures of the darkness.”
“They came for me? They weren’t after you?”
Her mother shook her head. “They attacked my cabin when I was out
gathering herbs and roots, with you strapped to my bosom. When I returned
to my shack and went inside, your cradle was destroyed. Your blankets
shredded. But nothing else. That’s when I heard them. I set the cabin on fire
and fled with only you and the clothes on my back. It’s a miracle we got
away. I’m still not sure how they lost our trail. That’s why I pushed deep
into the mountains. That’s why you must leave now.”
Saylor sat in silence, overwhelmed by her mother’s admission, not certain
what it all meant. The wolfman had been right.
Wait. The wolfman!
“Did the wolfman send the creatures of darkness after me?”
Shaking her head, smiling warmly but sadly, her mother said, “What does
your intuition tell you?”
“That … that if he had wanted to destroy me, he could’ve already. So
who did?”
“I am unsure. Only someone with the power of darkness could summon
those creatures.”
 “Like the king?”
“Perhaps. Or someone who has the same power as him. I’ve had many
years to think about this. And have come to no conclusions. The only thing
I know for certain is this. Someone other than your friend the wolfman
knows you are alive. And whoever that person is, also wants you dead.”
Saylor’s eyes went wide.
“When I heard that someone was looking for the child, looking for you,
Saylor, I didn’t know who or why. But I couldn’t take any chances.”
“The wolfman said he’s been looking for me for twelve years.”
“And now he’s found you. But if you don’t leave right now, then so will
someone else.”
“Mother, I don’t—”
“Saylor,” said her mother, pleading. “Be angry at me if you must, but if
you fear for your life, then you must hurry.”
“I’m not angry with you Mother, but—”
“Whatever I may have done due to my selfish desires, Saylor, please
know that―”
The wolf sounded again, interrupting her, this time closer. Saylor
understood the message.
“That’s the wolf king,” she said. “The great gray wolf I brought back to
life. He’s calling out a warning.”
Saylor’s mother jumped to her feet. Her voice tone changed again. One
that said the time for arguing was done. “Move. Now.”
No sooner had Saylor jumped to her feet when a shrill cry rang out,
echoing through the forest outside. Her mother took the blanket that had
been around Saylor and hurled it onto the bed. Then she grabbed the water
basin and doused the fire. The cabin was suddenly blanketed in darkness.
She grabbed Saylor’s hand and led her to the door.
Something plunked onto the roof. Saylor and her mother froze. Whatever
was outside began walking on the shingled roof, its steps sounding like an
eagle’s talon grating across wood. It stopped and began tapping in a single
spot, as if testing the shingles’ strength.
Her mother pulled Saylor close, whispering to her.
 “Saylor dear, listen. When that thing breaks through the roof, you will
run.”
“No, no, no. I’m not leaving you,” Saylor cried out. Her mother’s finger
soft on her lips shushed her.
“Your light and scent are too strong this time. They will know it and
follow unless I can divert them. Understood?” her mother said, in that same
strong tone.
Though not wanting to, Saylor nodded. Her breath quickened. Now she
was the one panicking. Even with everything her mother had done, the
thought of leaving the only mother she had never known was excruciating.
“But to leave you, to save my life, feels cowardly.”
“It is a mother’s duty to sacrifice for her child, Saylor. Besides, you are
the daughter of the Brightness Queen. You’re the Princess of Light, a
beacon shining in the darkness. The kingdom needs you. I always knew this
day would come.”
“Where will I go? On my own, I am nothing.”
“You aren’t alone. Find the wolfman. If he is who I think he is, he will
never leave you. He will die for you, Saylor. Whatever I may have done in
my life, whatever wrongs I have committed, please don’t doubt my love for
you.”
Saylor threw her arms around her mother and said, “I’m sorry I ever did.”
The wolf howled again, signaling its proximity. At that moment, the
creature outside smashed the shingles, sending shards raining down
throughout the small cabin. Saylor let out a short scream, cut off by her
mother’s palm across her mouth.
The creature thrashed at the wooden roof, trying to create a hole large
enough to get through. Her mother stood between Saylor and the creature
and backed Saylor toward the door. Once there, her mother draped her own
cloak around Saylor’s shoulders, wrapping Saylor’s white fur around
herself.
Whispering, her mother said, “There must be a moon out. Look. Keep to
the trees as much as you can.”
The dim light filtering through the thick clouds cast an eerie glow on the
thing trying to get into the cabin. Its lizard-like head attached to a long scaly
sinuous neck dipped inside, its red eyes scanning the interior of the cabin,
its slit nostrils sniffed the air. It seemed to have caught a scent and reached
its long neck toward the bed where Saylor had been only moments before.
Her mother put a hand on the door handle, ready to yank it open. The
creature’s head swung toward them and remained still, listening. Saylor felt
the creature would be able to hear her heart thumping in her chest. It swung
its head back toward the bed and shrieked.
The high-pitched cry forced Saylor to cover her ears. The creature
slammed its batlike wings onto the roof, splintering the shingles. It landed
inside and attacked the bed sheets and blanket.
Saylor’s mother opened the door and shoved Saylor outside, slamming
the door behind her.
Saylor thought she heard her mother shout for her to run. Saylor couldn’t
move. Her mother let out a battle cry and cursed the wretched beast before
crying out in pain.
Suppressing tears, Saylor fled toward the trees. Running as fast as she
could. From above, another shriek rang out. A second creature was flying
about. He swooped toward her. When he got close, he reached his massive
claws out toward her. She dove into the snow. He missed her.
It flew in a circle to try again. Sizing her up.
It was so close Saylor could see the evil in its eyes.
From the trees, something let out a low guttural growl.
Saylor ducked to the side, dodging the gray mass who leapt past her.
The great gray wolf!
She turned to see him crash into the bat-winged creature just as it swept
down to close in on Saylor. The two combatants fell as one into the snow,
the wolf growled and snapped at the creature’s neck. The creature struck out
and shoved the wolf aside and rose to the air to alight on the cabin when the
creature inside let out a terrifying screech.
Its companion inside the cabin shrieked again, letting out a cry of
triumph. The creature outside clambered across the roof and disappeared
inside.
 Saylor used that opportunity to turn and sprint into the forest, stopping by
the hollow tree to gather her skis. Though risky, Saylor counted on the dim
moonlight seeping through the clouds to be enough to help her avoid the
trees.
Thrusting the poles into the snow, she began propelling herself down the
shallow embankment, avoiding any dark mass as best she could.
From behind, the two creatures shrieked again. The sound of them
destroying the remains of the cabin propelled Saylor to greater speed. She
dared to stop long enough to look back.
She didn’t see either creature, but she heard them. They were both still in
the cabin. Attacking the person they thought was her. The one wearing the
fur with her scent on it. The one giving her life for her daughter.
She guessed it wouldn’t take them long to figure out they’d attacked the
wrong person. As if on cue, she saw them flash out of the cabin and into the
night sky. Screeches from high above told her they were now searching for
her.
She slid to a stop, hiding under an evergreen to listen, hoping they’d give
up the search. The padded footsteps of something large and heavy
approaching made her breath catch in her throat.
A soft growling sounded from outside the boughs of the tree told her the
great gray wolf was nearby ready to protect her.
Saylor poked her head out and saw the great gray wolf, panting, standing
still as he scanned their surroundings. He glanced at her before turning to
trot in a direction different than she’d been heading.
He stopped and turned back. She nodded, figuring out that he wished for
her to follow him.
Saylor began skiing after the wolf. He kept his pace slow enough for her
to follow, even when she had to clamber up small hills before heading down
the other side again.
Before long, they reached the edge of a clearing. The wolf stopped and
waited. Saylor skied to a stop and looked out in the direction the wolf was
looking.
A dark mass approached.
 At first, she thought the wolf had led her astray, leading her right to other
evil creatures. Until she recognized the form of horses and the familiar
silhouette of the wolfman riding atop the horse in front.
When the wolfman drew within speaking distance, the great gray wolf
trotted back into the woods, fading into the darkness therein.
“Mr. Wolfman,” Saylor said, emerging from her hiding place. Careful not
to say it so loud she gave away their position.
Startled, the wolfman reined his horse sharply.
Alana, on the horse behind him, let out a yelp, suppressing it as well
before her cry could signal to the dark creatures their location.
“You must be looking for me,” Saylor said.
The wolfman clicked his tongue, his steed moved toward her where she
still hid in the tree line.
He signaled silently to Alana. She rode forward, leading the other horse
that was now saddled. She dismounted and hugged Saylor briefly then held
onto the third horse’s reins as Saylor took off her skis and climbed onto the
gray horse’s back.
“The evil creatures came after me,” Saylor said quickly. “They attacked
my mother.”
The wolfman’s raised finger cut her off.
“Not now,” he said. “We must get you somewhere safe.”
Instead of heading back into the clearing, they skirted it, riding close to
the trees. The wolfman kept a close watch on the skies above. Though they
could hear the creatures crying in the distance, they didn’t see them.
They reached the other side of the clearing and prepared to enter the
forest. Saylor was still learning how to maneuver her horse. She pulled
awkwardly on the reins to stop the mare.
Turning in her saddle, she glanced back. From her vantage point, she
couldn’t see the cabin, but she could see the fire it made as it burned. The
creatures had set it on fire.
The wolfman rode up beside her.
As Saylor sat watching, her emotions rose within, expressing themselves
by forcing tears from her eyes. She began to sob uncontrollably.
 The wolfman stared at the fire and growled or grunted.
“My mother is dead.”
“Serves her right. She deserved to die.”
Saylor whirled to face him, fire in her eyes.
“What bitterness and anger and hatred must be present in your heart to
believe that that woman who raised me from birth deserved to be torn to
shreds by those wretched and evil creatures. She died to save my life.
Whatever she may have done, I will not hate her. I can’t say I understand
her actions, but I hope to, someday, so that I may forgive her. But I won’t
hate her. If I truly am the princess, then I order you to never speak an ill
word of her ever again, whether it be to my face or behind my back.”
The wolfman nodded. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
Saylor thought she saw him smirk before he steered his horse back to
lead the way. She remembered she’d ordered him not to call her by that
name.
A wolf howled far off in the distance, its cry long and sorrowful, echoing
the pain Saylor felt in her heart.
Saylor glanced again toward the only home she’d ever known.
“Goodbye, Mother. I will miss you.”

OceanofPDF.com
 10
Flight to Cross

The three-horse party of Saylor, Alana, and her father, remained silent for
the next several hours as the wolfman led them through the forest,
remaining under the cover of the trees as much as possible. The horses
made the most noise as they plowed through the deep snow and whinnied
their annoyance at the difficulty of their trek.
Saylor clung to the gray mare’s back, squeezing her legs against the
horse’s flanks, trying not to fall off again. She’d already fallen into the
heavy snow three times. With each fall, the wolfman growled or grunted
while he waited for her to get back in the saddle.
The first two times, Alana, riding in the rear, dismounted to help Saylor.
The third time, Saylor waved her away, only embarrassed, not hurt.
Saylor had long since stopped trying to search the skies for the winged
creatures, needing to focus her attention on staying atop her horse. It’d been
over an hour since they’d heard any shrieking from the brutish creatures
that had attacked her cabin and killed her mother.
Her legs ached from squeezing so hard. Not as much as her heart ached.
Thinking of her mother butchered in the cabin was almost unbearable. All
she could think about was how to exact revenge. If she had her way, they’d
turn back and kill the vile creatures.
Except Saylor wasn’t sure they could. If the mighty wolfman was afraid
of them, then she’d better be as well.
Saylor relaxed her legs to ease the soreness when her gray stumbled,
sending Saylor hurling headfirst over the mount and into the snow. She
rolled onto her back spitting out the mouthful of snow.
“That’s it,” Saylor said, staring at the branches above. “I’m done. I’m
going to sleep here forever.”
 The wolfman growled a reply. “This is where we stop.”
Perhaps he was growing annoyed enough to want to stop. Or maybe he
thought they were far enough away from the danger to rest. Either way, she
welcomed the respite.
“Oh good,” Saylor said. “Perfect timing then.”
“Strip off your clothes, Saylor,” the wolfman said to her utter shock.
“Excuse me?” she said, trying to eye him from her still lying position
deep in the bed of snow.
“Father!” Alana exclaimed, dismounting, submerging to her knees. “You
have all the sensitivity of a mountain ox trying to play the mandolin with a
hammer.”
The wolfman turned to scan the trees and skies, searching for any threat.
Alana unhooked a large bundle from the saddle of her horse and trudged
through the snow to stand next to Saylor. Opening the sack, Alana pulled
out several articles of clothing, draping them across the back of Saylor’s
horse.
“You need to change into these,” she said.
Saylor rose to her feet.
“I get it,” she said. “We need to throw them off my scent. I figured that’s
what he meant. I didn’t realize you had another change of clothes for me
and thought he expected me to continue without … well, you know.”
Alana grinned. “He’s not that insensitive.”
Alana placed the bottom end of a large cloak made of fur and leather
across the back of the horse and held up the top end, creating a canopy of
dead animal skin.
“Remain under this as much as possible.”
“A tent would be warmer,” Saylor said, pulling off a boot.
“It’s not to keep you warm. It’s to …”
“To shield my aura. I know.” She paused midway through pulling off her
second boot. “Now I know why my mother never let me wear pretty
dresses. Always furs.”
Standing on her discarded boots Saylor undressed completely. A soft
breeze blew. She shivered and threw on the white shift splayed out for her.
 “Be quick,” the wolfman said, his focus on the skies. Maybe he wasn’t so
sure of their safety after all.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” Saylor said.
“We are being followed,” the wolfman said, sending a chill down
Saylor’s already chilled spine.
Saylor did hurry. She put on the beautiful green dress that she'd worn
before, though now it emitted several fragrances that she guessed had been
added to mask her smell.
“Try these boots on,” Alana said. “If they’re too large, I have a pair of
stockings you can wear.”
Saylor slid her feet into the soft interior of the boots, her toes instantly
warming. She wriggled them.
“They fit perfectly, Alana,” Saylor said, managing a grin.
Alana returned the smile and handed her the cloak being used as a
canopy. Saylor donned it and marveled at the combination of fur and leather
comprising the fabric that ran all the way down to her feet but had holes for
her arms like a coat. She was instantly warmed.
Alana pulled the furry hood up to cover Saylor’s head.
“This is way too fancy, Alana,” Saylor said, stretching her arms to look at
her sleeves.
“Not nearly fancy enough for a princess,” Alana replied, handing Saylor
a pair of black leather gloves lined on the inside with fleece. “But you look
darling.”
The wolfman grunted his approval.
Alana smirked. “Yes, Father. She’s dressed now.”
The wolfman dismounted and collected Saylor’s old clothes, stringing
them out behind his horse.
“Go to the crossing and cross the bridge,” he said. “Remember, don’t
wait for me. If I’m not there when you cross, cut the ropes.”
Alana nodded and mounted her horse.
Saylor shook her head. “That’s no good, Mr. Wolfman. We can’t go on
alone.”
“No discussion.”
 “Why aren’t you coming with us? We haven’t seen or heard any of those
mini dragons, or whatever they are, for ages.”
While that was true, Saylor didn’t feel comfortable letting him out of her
sight. She felt safer with him around.
“Dragons are much too noble of creatures to do the dark bidding of a
human,” he said. “Those are vagars.”
“Scaley demons? That’s what they are?” Saylor said.
“Not all dark creatures are from the pits of hell. Demons can’t be killed.
But these things are but the forerunners of something worse.”
“I’m scared to know what’s worse than vagars.”
“If you don’t wish to see them, then do as I say,” he said roughly.
He mounted and headed away, dragging her clothes behind her across the
surface of the snow. She wanted to protest but realized it was a good plan.
He was going to throw off the scent and hope they followed it.
“No discussion, he says,” Saylor muttered to herself. “Everything should
be up for discussion.”
Alana chuckled and shook her head. “Not when it comes to my father
trying to keep us safe. In his words, ‘if we don’t listen, we die.’”
“Charming. I mean, I do envy you having a father, but does he have to be
so unpleasant?”
Saylor clambered back into her saddle, pulling the coat folds across her
legs.
Alana ignored the comment and urged her mount forward, taking the
lead, turning her steed in a direction perpendicular to the one her father had
taken. Saylor followed. When they’d gone only a few feet, Alana halted and
dismounted. Taking a dagger from the belt around her waist, she sliced off
several bows of the evergreen nearby and began wiping their tracks with it.
She pulled out a small pouch and pinched some of its contents onto the
snow.
Satisfied, she returned and mounted.
“Try and keep close and stay in the saddle!” she said, with the intensity
of her father.
“You think I’m trying to fall off?”
 “Of course not. But each time you do, if I’m being honest, I find it harder
and harder to not laugh. So please, don’t make me laugh.”
What she really meant was that it would slow them down. She at least
had the ability to joke at their predicament. Something her father wasn’t
capable of.
“I’ll do my best,” Saylor said. “Though, if I do fall again, I think I’ll lash
a rope to the saddle and ski behind it.”
“That’s not a bad—” A lonely howl cut her off, the wolf a good distance
away, but close enough to scare both of them.
“I guess it’s time to go,” Saylor said.
Another loud howl sounded, answering the cry of the wolf. It wasn’t as
high-pitched as the shrieks of the vagars and sounded like a cat being
strangled. The same sound answered, emanating from another area of the
mountains.
“Helvers,” Alana said.
“Helvers?”
“Imagine a cat the size of a wolf.”
The cries of the helvers growing near kept Saylor in the saddle, thighs
clenched, fingers interlaced in her horse’s mane. She was determined not to
fall off. The sound seemed to propel the weary horses with renewed vigor.
They bounded through the deep snow as if the cold substance was as hot as
a skillet.
The roar of a river echoing in a deep canyon grew louder as did the cries
of the helvers now directly behind them.
Alana reined to a halt, signaling for Saylor to keep quiet. The helvers’
cries seemed to grow slightly fainter.
Alana breathed out with relief. “They took the bait. Let’s move.”
Not waiting to see if Saylor followed, Alana kicked the flanks of her
mare until it began trotting. Saylor’s horse followed, not needing any
prompting from its rider.
The snow was thinner nearer the cliffs of the river. The pair of horses and
riders raced along the ridge, heading away from the direction the helvers
had taken.
 “There it is,” Alana said, pointing ahead.
A rickety suspension bridge swung lazily in the breeze, spanning the
roaring river below. It had to be the longest bridge Saylor had ever seen.
Saylor shook her head violently from side to side, not wanting to cross it.
Realizing they may not have a choice. She had visions of plunging to her
death below, thinking for a slight moment that she’d prefer facing the fury
of the helvers rather than testing the sturdiness of the bridge.
Alana dismounted, leading her horse by the reins to the entrance. “Go on,
Saylor. You cross first.”
Saylor groaned. She’d been aching to get off her horse. Now she wanted
to continue riding for hours.
“Great. Let me be the guinea pig,” she said, sliding off the saddle.
“Don’t worry. I tested it last week. It looks worse than it really is.”
“Well, it looks horrible, so that’s not really saying much.”
Alana grinned thinly. “You’ll make it.”
Saylor took a tentative step onto the first plank. Leading her horse who
seemed as reluctant as she felt. The first step felt solid. She took several
more steps and stopped, feeling tension on the reins. Her horse had dug in
its heels.
“Come on,” Saylor said to the mare, “You’re supposed to be the valiant
steed giving me courage. Not the other way around.”
Saying soothing words, Saylor coaxed the horse off the solid rock of the
cliff and onto the less sturdy bridge held together by thick bands of rope.
The horse tested her weight with each placement of the hoof. After a bit of
nudging, Saylor and her horse were on the bridge.
“There you go,” Saylor said, trying to calm the mare. “One hoof in front
of the other.”
They reached the halfway point and began to head up to the other side.
The slight incline gave the horse pause, not wanting to move further.
A thunder-like sound echoed through the canyon.
Alana let out a shriek. “Hurry. Any minute those things will know they
were tricked and will double back.”
“It’s not me holding up the line. Come on, Mouse. Let’s move.”
 Her horse neighed.
A helver cry sounded from behind. Another echoed it, closer than the
other.
That was all the motivation the horse needed. It practically danced to the
other side.
Safely across, Saylor motioned for Alana to come quickly. Confidently,
Alana stepped out onto the bridge and began walking, her horse drawing
courage from its rider. Possibly forced courage from the threat of the
helvers approaching aided her horse’s steps.
They passed the midpoint and picked up the pace toward the other side.
A horse thundered toward them from far down the cliff edge, riding from
the direction they’d come.
“It’s your father,” Saylor said.
Alana and her horse made it across. She handed Saylor her horse’s reins
and took out her dagger.
“Cut it now!” the wolfman screamed at them. “Don’t wait for me.”
The helvers cried out again several times, each cry growing louder and
heading straight toward them. Saylor could see them now. They weren’t far
behind the wolfman. He could make it across before them if he hurried.
Alana held the knife’s edge over the rope. The wolfman kept shouting for
Alana to cut the rope. Saylor told her to wait.
Alana looked at her father then at Saylor. Unsure what to do.
“What are you waiting for?” her father shouted. “There’s no time.”
Like a burst of black lightning, two helvers emerged from the trees
headed straight for the wolfman who took off running from them.
Alana began cutting the rope. Saylor grabbed her hand.
“We will wait for him,” Saylor said.
“We can’t,” Alana said, her arm trembling within Saylor’s grasp.
The wolfman shouted his disapproval and pulled out a knife and leaped
off his horse, sprinting to the edge of the bridge.
The helvers cried out in the most hideous voice Saylor had ever heard.
Even worse than the cries of the creatures who killed her mother. They
weren’t as fast though and didn’t seem to be able to fly. They loped closer
and closer.
“Come across,” Saylor shouted. “You can make it.”
Instead of crossing the bridge, the wolfman began sawing one of the large
ropes.
Saylor screamed out. Before he could sever the rope, Saylor raced onto
the bridge. He stopped slicing the strands and grimaced. With her on the
bridge, he wouldn’t cut it loose.
“Move it, Mr. Wolfman,” she said. “Now!”
Seeing her resolve, he didn’t hesitate. The wolfman sped onto the bridge,
grabbing the reins of his horse, and pulling him with him. Once Saylor saw
that he was coming, she ran back to the other side with Alana.
The helvers picked up their pace. The one in front couldn’t slow enough
and skidded past the entrance to the bridge, nearly tumbling off the cliff.
The wolfman and his horse were running now, the bridge swaying
precariously as they moved.
Upon starting up the incline, he ordered Alana to start cutting the rope.
She nodded and began sawing one of the lower strands of the footpath.
The second helver was on the bridge now. When it set foot on it, one of
the rope strands snapped from where the wolfman had tried to slice it. The
helver backed up a step and roared.
The wolfman made it onto solid ground and tugged the horse up the
incline and off the bridge. The first helver ignored the frayed rope and raced
after them. Alana finished sawing through the rope. One side of the
footpath dropped, shaking loose several wooden planks.
The helver leapt off the planks before its footing collapsed, sailing toward
the hind end of the wolfman’s horse. The helver’s claws raked across the
horse’s rump, gashing it but the creature was not able to cling to anything.
Letting out an angry cry, the helver tumbled onto the sharp rocks of the
river below, the river drowning out its screams.
The hellish beast was swept downstream and out of sight within seconds.
The other helver had stopped to watch its companion plunge to its death.
It glared with hatred at Saylor. As if responding to a command, the helver
suddenly leapt off the bridge and landed in the river, heading downstream.
The wolfman tried to steady his injured horse. He glared at Alana for not
following his orders, his nostrils flaring like his panicked horse.
Before he could reprimand her, Saylor spoke. “How dare you do that to
your daughter!”
The wolfman opened his mouth to reply but stopped when his horse
reared, whinnying and snorted, its eyes wide and filled with madness.
“Steady,” the wolfman said.
The horse didn’t listen. It reared and pawed the dirt. Reared again and
tried bolting past the wolfman. He kept a firm grip on the reins. The horse
turned to face him, the wolfman’s back was to the river. The horse reared
again and pawed the earth, pulling the reins back and forth, trying to escape
from its bit and bridle.
The wolfman kept the reins taut, his feet rooted in one spot.
Without warning, the mad animal let out a piercing shriek and charged
toward the wolfman. He sidestepped as the crazed horse headed toward the
cliff. The wolfman yelled out and gritted his teeth, yanking hard on the
reins. He managed to turn the horse’s head away from the cliff.
He couldn’t stop it and the horse plunged over the cliff. The wolfman let
loose the leather straps before they pulled him along with it.
He paced alongside the cliff, watching his trusted horse plunge to the
river below. When he turned back toward them, his eyes were as enraged as
the helver had been on the other side. He took two steps toward Alana.
Saylor stepped in front of him. She’d faced down a wolf. She’d run the
last time. Somehow, she’d found the courage to face her fears.
“You could have made it!” Saylor said. “It’s not Alana’s fault. If you had
come when I told you to, if you hadn’t been so intent on sacrificing
yourself, so willing to die, then we all would’ve been safe. Your horse died
because of you.”
“It was a foolish chance to take. Those things are after you. Not me. And
not Alana. They would have let me be. I would have found another way
across.”
 “Maybe. Or perhaps they would have torn you to shreds. Is that
something you wanted your daughter to witness? Or it’s possible they
would have kept you alive only to kill you slowly for sport as Alana
watched.”
“I’m not that easy to kill.”
“What if they took you back to their commander? How do you think that
would have affected Alana, never knowing if you were dead or alive?”
The wolfman turned away from Saylor’s fiery glare.
“How can I do my job and keep you safe if you won’t heed my
guidance?” he retorted.
Saylor stepped forward and rested her hand on his arm that still shook
with rage.
“It is not your job to protect me, Mr. Wolfman. I never asked you to. And
if neither the king nor queen know I’m alive, then they never commanded
it. This is your choice. And I’m grateful. But you and Alana are like my
family and the only people left in the world I care about.”
Saylor brushed away the tears that were escaping from her eyes.
“I already lost my mother. I’m not about to lose you. From now on, if one
of your plans or its contingencies requires that you or Alana stay behind to
sacrifice for me, then you will scrap that plan and come up with a new one.
Understood?”
The wolfman turned away, refusing to answer.
Saylor turned to Alana. “That goes the same for you,” she said, pointing
at her friend.
“I was a servant to the king and queen before I was a servant to you,” the
wolfman said. “I serve them by serving you. I can’t be anything else.”
“You can serve the king and queen best by being my friend. If they say
otherwise, then they will answer to me.”
“None of us will be alive to answer to anyone if we don’t keep moving,”
the wolfman said, taking the skis from Saylor’s horse. “You two stay on the
horses. Alana, you lead. It’s mostly downhill from here. I’ll be right
behind.”
 Saylor leaned toward Alana, whispering so he couldn’t hear. “Why is he
always so dour sounding? I mean, I truly think a mountain ox in labor
would be better company.”
Alana smiled and whispered. “He misses Mom. Though, don’t tell him I
said that.”
“What about you? Do you miss her as well?”
Alana responded, unable to hide the pain on her face. “I have no memory
of her. She disappeared at the same time as the queen.”
Saylor suddenly felt sorry for Alana. Realizing that she had lost her
mother as well. That’s why she couldn’t let the wolfman sacrifice his life
for her and leave Alana without a father and a mother. Something Saylor
was all too familiar with and wouldn’t wish on anyone.
Especially if she were the cause of it.

OceanofPDF.com
 11
Toasted Spuds

As the wolfman had said, the terrain continued to slope downward. As the
land fell, the snow thinned, the temperature increased, and the sun rose.
Although it was difficult to spot its exact location, the clouds continued to
occlude it.
With the coming of the day, Saylor stopped glancing over her shoulder.
The entire night, she kept looking for one of the vile creatures to spring out
at her.
The wolfman had long since stowed his skis, trotting beside them on foot,
not allowing Alana to slow their pace for his sake. He seemed to have
greater endurance than the pair of horses. And much more than Saylor who
was exhausted. As the anxiety decreased, her fatigue increased, reminding
her she hadn’t slept for an entire day.
They stopped several times to stretch their legs and work out their
soreness before mounting again. Saylor would’ve preferred to walk.
However, her normal pace couldn’t keep up with the quickened pace set by
the wolfman.
Near midday, the wolfman brought them to an embankment surrounded
by a thicket of thorny bushes and spindly trees, announcing they’d rest there
for a few hours. As he took care of the horses, Alana spread out a bedroll.
Saylor had intended on chatting with Alana about things. Once her head
touched the soft pillow, drowsiness overpowered her desire to talk.
The dulled light of the sun had passed several degrees when the wolfman
woke them. Saylor dragged her weary body from the blanket and tried to
get back in the saddle. The wolfman hoisted her up as if she weighed no
more than a feather. She thought she might be that light considering how
little she’d eaten that day.
 Her stomach grumbled. The wolfman assured her they’d eat a sumptuous
meal that evening. Somehow, she doubted that she and the wolfman had a
similar idea about what a sumptuous meal would be.
As evening drew near, her drowsiness and her unease began competing
with one another. Normally, with the night came rest. Now, the night drew
out the shadow creatures.
The wolfman refused Alana’s request for him to ride, saying she and
Saylor could share a horse. The horses need to stay fresh; he kept saying.
Though Saylor never heard a shriek or another cry from the helvers, she
couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching her.
The terrain nearly level now, the wolfman increased their pace. For miles
at a time, he’d jog before slowing to a fast walk for a mile, resting until he
could jog again.
Saylor was about to protest when he stopped them, ordering her and
Saylor to dismount. The anxiety rose and triumphed over her drowsiness as
she slid to the dirt, eyes darting to the skies and the horizon.
“We walk from here. Quietly,” he said.
Grateful to be back on her feet, she let it slide that his sudden command
had needlessly caused her heart to jump into her throat.
Ahead, they saw the glow of a candle or lamp seeping out of a few
cabins. Skirting them as best they could, the wolfman led them to a road at
the far side. A short way up, he steered them down a narrow trail.
The moon filtered through the clouds and cast a silvery glow on the roof
of a cabin and stables. As they neared it, a horse from one of the stables
whinnied. Saylor’s horse snorted in reply.
They stopped just outside the gate leading up to the darkened cabin and
waited, though Saylor didn’t know for what since the wolfman didn’t call
out.
Shortly, she heard someone from inside the cabin make a disconcerting
noise, his tones matching those of the wolfman’s, though the other man
sounded grumpier. If that were possible.
A dim light ignited inside. The top half of the door swung open. An old
and portly man stuck a lamp outside, casting a light on his visitors. The
light reflected off his sweaty and bald scalp.
 “Who in all of unholy tarnation is visiting at this ungodly hour?” the man
said, his voice hoarse and raspy, as if he’d been yelling all day.
“Me,” the wolfman said.
“You?” the old man replied. “Who be you?”
The wolfman answered in unintelligible words. At least to her.
“Ah,” the old man said. “The trapper of wolves. The Wolfman himself.”
Saylor snickered and leaned toward Alana and whispered, “The guy
called your dad the Wolfman as well? I mean, I was joking, but … he
sounds serious.”
“Apparently he looks like one to more than just you,” Alana said.
The old man stepped down from the porch and approached them, limping
heavily.
“One of these days,” Saylor said, keeping her voice low, “I’m going to
learn your father’s real name. I’ll still call him Mr. Wolfman, but at least I’ll
know his name.”
Alana grinned, her smile fading and eyes squinting as the old man shoved
the lantern toward her. He swung it toward Saylor. She forced a grin and
waved.
He turned toward the wolfman. “Nights?” the old man said. Like full
sentences were unwarranted. They had their own language.
“One,” the wolfman answered.
“Ye got one more with ya. That’ll be extra.”
The wolfman shook his head. “I got one less horse.”
“Then that’ll be less.”
“How much less?”
“Depends. Who eats more? The girl or the horse?”
Saylor answered. “Considering how famished I am right now, kind sir, I
could eat a horse. So, probably me.”
The man swung the lamp back toward her, one of his brows raising as he
studied her. He coughed a chuckle. Or so she thought since his lips didn’t
curl into a grin.
 “Eat a horse,” he said, mumbling the words to himself. His chest heaved
as he chuckled.
“In fact,” Saylor said, “I’ve been promised a sumptuous meal and I am
ready to partake of it. Charge him for two extra, if you must, but sir, can we
please come inside and eat?”
The old man stared at her gravely. “A sumptuous meal, eh?” His throat
let out a guttural laugh. “I don’t know about sumptuous. I can promise you
it’s a might better than eating horse.”
“Sir, I don’t care what it tastes like as long as it doesn’t taste like horse
dung.”
The man let out a boisterous laugh that caused him to cough a few times.
“Horse dung.” He shook his head in amusement, swinging the lantern back
toward the wolfman. “Wolf, I like this one. She’s a bit of sparkle in a cloud
of drear.”
The wolfman barely responded.
The old man said, “I mean no disrespect to the other missus.” He pointed
at Alana. “She’s a right lady as well, no doubt. But she can sometimes take
on the dour disposition of her father. I don’t do well with dour dispositions.
I’m a lively sort, meself.”
The old man motioned for them to follow him. He walked down the path
toward the door, pausing at the entrance to turn back. Saylor and Alana
lagged back when he stopped. “Well, don’t dawdle there. Come inside and
help me put the kettle on.”
A sound was heard either coming from Alana or from her horse. “Was
that you, Alana?”
“Dour disposition indeed,” Alana said, frowning. “I’ll show him dour
disposition.”
Saylor laughed aloud.
“Yes, Alana. You sound like your father sometimes.”
The wolfman stayed behind with the horses. He gathered their reins and
led them to the stables. Satisfied he didn’t need help, and wouldn’t take it if
offered, Saylor walked quickly into the cabin and the promise of food that
tasted better than horse or horse dung.
 Once inside, she inhaled, taking in new smells of leather, tanning oils,
burned fats and hair, and dried meats. Along with the odor emanating from
the old man.
She grinned and exhaled slowly.
“If ye can’t abide the smell,” the old man said, leaning over to stoke the
hearth, “there’s always the stables.”
“I like it. Reminds me of home,” Saylor said.
A laugh escaped from the old man.
“What can I do to help?” Saylor asked, as Alana eased her way inside,
wrinkling her nose at the smells as well.
“Ya mean, what can ye do to speed me up?” the old man said.
“I’m sure we’d all love to eat our fill then sleep soon. If I can help, I want
to.”
The old man continued his work not taking her up on her offer.
Saylor looked toward a bin on a shelf by the window and nearly lost her
breath. She rushed toward the basket and plucked out one of the roots
inside. Her voice airy and dreamy, she said, “You have potatoes. I’ll peel
them.”
The old man stood upright and spun toward her, his eyes fierce. “No. No
potatoes. Those are for me and me special guests.”
Saylor held the single spud with both hands, clasping it to her chest. Her
lips quivered. A wave of emotions rose, her eyes filling with water. Not
understanding why her hands shook, she took the potato and began moving
it back toward the basket, as if saying goodbye to a loved one.
“Of course, kind sir,” said Saylor, a squeak in her voice. “I’m sorry for
assuming I was a special guest.”
The old man grunted, his posture losing its edge. “Aye. For the sake of all
that is good. Fine. Ye can have a potato.”
Saylor swallowed and forced a smile. “Really? Do you mean it?”
“Aye,” he said, turning back to the fire, tossing a log on it.
“And one for my friend, Alana?” she asked.
The man flinched as if shot with a dart. “Aye. She may have one too.”
 Saylor handed Alana the one in her hands before taking another similar
sized one from the basket.
Alana studied Saylor’s face, her brows raised with curiosity.
Saylor shrugged and sniffed, wiping away a tear. “I don’t know what
came over me. It’s just a silly potato. But it reminds me of my home. Of my
mother.”
Alana led Saylor to the table. “Come on, then. Show me how to cook
these two spuds to perfection.”
Saylor grabbed a fork and poked each potato with it several times. She
began rummaging through the shelves until finding a brown sack. She
licked her finger and jammed it inside, taking it back out to taste the white
substance sticking to it. Her eyes brightened. “Salt. It needs salt.
Fortunately, he has some.”
She sprinkled some on the potatoes, forcing some inside slits she’d cut.
She scanned the shelves again, focusing on a small wooden container. She
removed the lid and sniffed it. “Is this tallow?”
The old man nodded his assent.
Saylor stuck her fingers inside and drew out some of the animal fat,
slathering each potato with it.
Alana wrinkled her nose and brow. “I can’t believe you just shoved your
bare hand in there.”
Saylor grinned. “It feels funny. But it will taste amazing. May I?” she
said, pointing to the iron poker the old man held. He gave it to her and sat in
a chair near the fire to watch.
Using the fire poker, she skewered the potato and held it above the flame,
twisting and turning it, lowering, and raising it, while moving it back and
forth. Shortly, the animal fat coating it started to sizzle. When the sizzling
stopped, Saylor withdrew the spud and added more tallow, careful not to
burn her fingers. Soon, the fragrance of cooked fat and potato filled the
small cabin.
The old man took in a deep breath and moaned his approval.
Saylor, her eyes wide, sparkling with delight, her lips pressed together
with a determined smile, turned toward the old man.
 “I do thank you,” she said, her voice but a whisper.
The old man’s cheek twitched as a single edge of his mouth rose to a grin
barely visible through his thick white beard.
“This can take longer than boiling them,” Saylor said. “But it’s worth it. I
promise.”
“Then ye best cook a few at the same time.”
Saylor’s cheeks rose and caused her eyes to almost close as she smiled.
“Certainly. Alana, take this. You saw what I was doing.”
By the time the wolfman returned from brushing the horses, feeding
them, and bedding them down, four lightly crisped potatoes, their insides
steaming, sat on four separate plates.
“Now,” Saylor said, cutting hers open. “If you only had a bit of butter,
just a smidge, then you …”
The old man handed her another small wooden container before she
finished speaking.
Saylor spread a tiny dollop on her open spud and sniffed the air above it.
She took the wooden fork and dug out a morsel, bringing it near her tongue
to test its temperature. Not too hot yet cooked all the way, she put the bite
of potato into her mouth and let it move across her tongue.
Her shoulders dropped and she shut her eyes. “This is absolutely
delightful.”
When she opened them, the three were staring at her, amused grins on
their faces.
“It’s been months since I had one,” Saylor said. She savored another
morsel, ignoring the stares from her dinner mates.
The others ate their portions, nodding their approval, though they didn’t
seem to enjoy them as much as Saylor. It didn’t matter. They were probably
accustomed to various spices and seasonings, thinking the potato bland.
To Saylor, it was a sumptuous meal a thousand times better than horse,
and about a million times better than chiva root. More than that, the taste
evoked memories of her mother. Or rather, the woman who raised her.
Saylor was still unsure if it was indeed true that the woman had stolen
her. If she hadn’t heard the words directly from the woman, she’d never
have considered it to be true. Despite the odd things that Saylor had done,
like resurrecting a wolf and attracting an aura of light from the heavens,
Saylor continued to doubt her mother’s story, regardless of how it matched
the tale told by the wolfman.
At this point, Saylor felt it’d take more than a resurrected wolf to
convince her she was the Princess of Light.
The food eaten and the dishware cleaned, Saylor and Alana lay in a
separate room on their bedrolls, trying to stay warm under their blankets.
She tried to fall asleep, but her curiosity kept her awake as she strained to
make out the words being spoken between the wolfman and the old man.
The only thing she picked up were varying degrees of low rumblings, as if
the two were wolves communicating with one another.
“Alana,” Saylor said, whispering. “You awake?”
Alana let out a slight moan, letting Saylor know she was already asleep.
“Sorry,” Saylor said. “What are they discussing?”
Alana sat up. Her face still covered by the blanket. She spoke through its
fabric, as if munching on it. “Where we should go.”
“Do I get a say?”
“Probably not,” Alana said. “Where do you want to go?”
Saylor rolled onto her back. “I don’t know enough of the world to know
where to start.”
“We’ll probably go to Balladin. If my father thinks it safe enough.”
“What’s at Balladin?”
“Home,” Alana said.
Saylor grinned. “I can’t wait.”
Eventually, she couldn’t keep her eyes open and fell asleep with the two
men still discussing things. It seemed she hadn’t slept long before the
wolfman woke her and Alana. They both voiced their displeasure. Saylor
tried to ignore him but couldn’t ignore the aroma of fried eggs. She and
Alana rolled up their blankets and beds, tying them together to their packs
before heading into the main room.
The old man dumped a few fried eggs onto some plates. Once they
finished eating, they headed toward the door.
 Saylor thanked the man for his kindness and generosity, giving him a
quick hug about his waist. He waved them away.
Saylor smiled widely.
As she walked out the door, the old man called to her. He shuffled over
and handed her a small sack. Her brow furrowed in confusion.
“Don’t ye say they came from me or the whole town will be banging
down my door,” the old man said gruffly.
Saylor peeked inside, not believing what she saw. Potatoes. Another silly
tear came to her eye. She tried to speak but choked on her emotions.
“What’s wrong with me?”
The old man grinned with both sides of his lips. “Nothing. Now git. Go
on.”
Once on her horse, Alana smirked, shaking her head. “I’ve never seen
him give extra to anyone.”
“But why me? Does he even know who I’m supposed to be?”
“No. He only knows that you are genuine and true, as true as the Queen
of Light herself.”
Alana clicked her mouth, urging her mount to follow her father. Saylor
caught up and rode beside Alana.
The wolfman had his own mount now. She guessed he purchased it from
the old man. That might’ve been what they were talking about. Working out
a business deal. He kept the pace slow as they skirted the nearby houses,
trying to avoid as many eyes as possible. Once past, he guided them back to
the road.
By midmorning, they approached a town.
“Keep your hood up,” the wolfman said to Saylor.
She nodded, pulling the furry edge further forward, covering the wisps of
her rebellious strands completely.
“Father,” Alana said, glancing around at those they began to come across.
“I thought we were going to go around the town. Avoid—”
“No,” he said, rudely. Cutting her off.
Alana pressed her lips together, darting furtive glances at the people, as if
expecting an attack.
 Sensing Alana wasn’t in the mood to talk about it, Saylor turned to study
the people they passed. Only a few glanced at the travelers, most taking
longer to eye the wolfman than any of the girls following by horseback.
As they neared the center of the village ahead, the foot traffic increased.
The wolfman guided them around merchant carts, wagons, and others
traveling by horse. Now in the middle of the town, none paid any of them a
passing glance, the people too busy carrying out their business.
Except for the children.
Saylor’s heart broke when she saw them.
A little boy stood barefoot near the street. He shied behind his mother’s
tattered skirt. Another girl’s pale and sallow face matched her gaunt frame.
A passing cart hit a rut in the road, the sudden lurch tossed the peeling of
some root into the mud. The girl raced for it, dodging an ox’s hoof to snatch
up the food scrap and run back to the safety of the alleyway, chased by a
boy who spied the ort too late.
Saylor understood why the old man wanted her to keep quiet about the
potatoes. At first, she thought he’d been jesting. Now she wasn’t so sure.
He likely feared if anyone knew he had a small fortune in potatoes, they’d
be raiding his farm. None of the people appeared to have been eating as
well as the old man.
Saylor ate better than all of them, she realized. She may have been thin,
but she wasn’t sallow or bony. Plenty of color filled her cheeks and skin.
All that time living in the mountains, she thought she was deprived. She
was rich compared to most of these people.
She had the sudden urge to give her potatoes away, but she didn’t know
who to give them to, and didn’t know who needed them most. The entire
town needed potatoes. She didn’t have the power to make them multiply.
She cursed her own superfluous appetite for potatoes. She’d rather eat
chiva forever than see the starving faces of the children of this town.
Several tears formed in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks when she
saw a woman sitting in the mud, her face blank, expression hollow, as she
limply held a lifeless bundle in her arms.
The wolfman increased his pace, yelling instructions for people to keep
out of the way. He led them to the edge of town, where a flat-bottomed raft
ferried passengers to the other side of the wide and slow-moving river.
After securing their passage, the wolfman led the horses into the ship’s
hold while Saylor and Alana found a place to sit on the deck. As much as
she wanted to look away, she couldn’t help staring back at the town.
“It’s sad,” Saylor said.
“What?” Alana asked.
“The people are starving. Who will feed them if not the Queen of Light?”
“You, Princess Saylor.”
“Me!”
If she was the Princess of Light, didn’t that mean those people were her
subjects? Her responsibility?
The weight of their fates grew heavy upon her shoulders.

OceanofPDF.com
 12
Dark Figures

From high in the clouds, the creature watched the floating wooden boat
carry its passengers away on the murky water. Careful to remain unseen, the
winged creature turned from the river and began its journey toward the dark
being.
Hours later and after many unsuccessful attempts to feed along the way,
the vagar drifted over the peak of a mountain and dipped down toward a
city with many lights. It was a dumb beast and didn’t know it flew toward
the capital city of the kingdom of Edenisia. It only knew where to find the
one it sought.
The vagar brought its wings to its body and dove toward the large
building in the city, the palace. To where the dark one waited.
Avoiding the tall spires, it thrust its wings out and turned aside, aiming
for an outcropping of floor jutting out from a door. The vagar closed its
wings again and darted straight toward the back of the balcony toward the
dark one. The powerful dark being was hard to see because it was covered
by a black fabric running from the top of its head down to its toes.
The vagar made a loud sound signifying its arrival. The being in the
black cloak didn’t react, acting as if it hadn’t heard the vagar slam onto the
hard surface. Even though it anticipated the vagar’s arrival, having sent for
him.
A movement from the dark figure was the only acknowledgement of the
vagar’s presence. A gloved hand emerged from its side, beckoning the
vagar to approach.
Dipping its sinuous head up and down and back and forth, the vagar
slinked toward the waiting hand cautiously. The vagar’s talons and claws
scraped against the stone of the balcony making an eerie sound.
 Though the vagar thought it was near enough, the hand motioned it
closer. The vagar lifted its spiked head and extended its neck toward the
hand. With no notice and without even looking its way, the figure’s hand
reached out and clenched the vagar’s neck, yanking its head close.
The vagar didn’t know the hand belonged to a woman. It couldn’t think
in those terms since the dumb beast had been spawned by dark sorcery. All
it knew was that it might soon meet the same fate as the other vagar. The
one who had died in the river. Only this vagar’s death would be worse. The
dark being would show even less mercy that the raging water had shown its
fellow warrior.
The hand nearly squeezed the life out of the vagar. The vagar’s eyesight
went white for a moment before going completely black. The woman stared
deep into its sockets, as if trying to see what it had seen. When it thought its
air would run out, the hand gripping its neck with the strength of a mighty
eagle released it. Unexpectedly.
The vagar shrunk back, gasping, and uttering soft whimpers of agony.
The dark figure rasped out the words, “Ah. I know where they are
headed.”
The dark one had to be talking about the princess and her two
companions. The ones the two vagars had been instructed to capture and
kill.
“Bring the princess to me,” the dark one had ordered. “Kill the girl and
her father.”
The vagars had failed miserably. But it had picked up the trail again.
Ordered this time to follow and report back.
The woman’s hand disappeared back inside the dark fabric.
“Perhaps he knows,” the dark one said. “Hmm.”
The vagar retreated slightly. When the dark figure’s hand slipped outside
her cloak again, it twisted back and forth like a snake motioning for the
vagar to approach again. When it did, the hand struck again at the beast’s
throat.
This time, the face of the dark one turned toward it. Her eyes were like
coals of hot fire.
 She spoke, sounding like a hissing snake. “Bring the princess to the Cliffs
of Calais.”
The vagar was unable to speak or move its head. The grip like iron
shackles on its neck.
The hand drew the vagar's face dangerously close to hers.
“Alive. Bring her there alive.”
The hand cast the vagar aside like a floppy doll. The vagar spat a few
times before leaping off the edge of the balcony, taking to the clouds once
again, hoping that along the way it’d find a snake to eat.

***

Saylor, Alana, and the wolfman remained on the ship and journeyed a
great distance down the river. The hours dragged on, giving Saylor too
much time and too little to do. It’d been a long time since she had to sit for
hours and do absolutely nothing.
She had asked the captain if he had any chores that needed doing. He
only chuckled and shook his head. She wasn’t sure, but he might know that
she was a princess and above manual labor even if she didn’t think that was
the case.
To pass the time, Saylor pulled out the last gift she had received from her
mother. The book. Which she had somehow had the presence of mind to
take with her from the cabin.
On the back deck, she rested her back against the gunwale and began
reading the first story. Wanting to read them in order even though she
desperately wanted to read the one her mother had recommended. Markul
and Marella.
Saylor reached the tale by midafternoon and finished it shortly thereafter.
She closed the book, not in the mood to read any more that day. The story
had been disturbing. Conjuring up all kinds of worry and confusion.
As she sat deep in thought, Alana appeared and sat beside her on the
deck, handing her an apple. Saylor didn’t want it.
“Wow,” Alana said, “something must be troubling you a great deal to turn
aside food.”
 Saylor forced a sad smile. “Sorry. I should be grateful. I think the
movement of the boat is making me queasy.”
She made that up so she didn’t have to reveal the real source of her angst.
Alana nodded, glancing at the book resting in Saylor’s lap. “That’s a
beautiful book.”
“It’s a gift from my mother,” Saylor said.
Saylor winced inside. Remembering the conversation with her mother
right before they were attacked by the creatures. She’d been upset with her
for buying the book with the potatoes she had been saving for the next
planting season.
How she wished she could go back and have that conversation all over
again. Had she known it would be the last conversation she’d ever have
with her mother, she never would’ve focused on something so trivial as
potatoes.
A tear escaped and ran down her cheek.
“What’s wrong?” Alana asked.
“I told my mother I didn’t want the book.” The words spilled out like a
broken bottle before she had a chance to stop them.
“I told her that I’d rather have new boots or a new dress. I wasn’t very
thankful. And now, I’m wearing new boots and a beautiful dress.”
“Why would you say that?”
“She sold a sack of potatoes to buy the book. Potatoes I had been
saving.”
“What does it matter?”
“It didn’t. That’s the point. I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about
it. I own a sack of potatoes now. I have the book, but all I want is to have
my mother back.”
Alana nodded and took a bite of the apple. “Are you still angry at her?”
“I feel like I should be. She took me away from my home. But like I said,
I felt more anger at her for getting rid of my potatoes. That sounds stupid, I
know.”
“I think I understand.”
 “It doesn’t matter now. I’m glad I have the book. Something to remember
her by. Especially now after reading this story. Have you heard the tale of
Markul and Marella?”
“Maybe. It’s possible. The names sound familiar.”
“I think it was my mother’s way of trying to tell me the truth while also
telling me how she felt. The beginning is similar to my story. Marella’s
child dies at birth while her husband is away. She’s so ashamed and is afraid
to tell her husband. Before he returns, she goes to town and swaps her son
with the child of another woman who just gave birth.”
“Oh. That’s like your story.”
“The story says nothing more about the other woman who lost her child.
It only follows Marella. I was expecting it to be a tragic tale showing the
consequences for stealing a life. It wasn’t like that at all.”
Saylor shook her head from side to side almost in disgust.
“Nothing bad happened to Marella. No one ever found out. Her husband
returned from war, a hero, and was given lands and titles. His estate
prospered. He grew wealthy. Eventually, he became a count. He assisted the
king in another military campaign and was successful again. After that, he
became a duke, making Marella a duchess.”
“What became of the child?”
“Their stolen son, legitimate as far as anyone else knew, grew strong and
handsome. He also achieved fame in war. As the son of a duke, he was
given the honor of marrying an eastern princess from a country across the
sea, uniting their kingdoms. He and the princess had many sons and
daughters.”
“Sounds like a happy ending for everyone.”
“Except the mother who lost her child. That’s my point. The duchess
lived a long and plentiful life, outliving her husband by ten years. And
that’s how it ends.”
“That’s interesting. I think,” Alana said. “I definitely haven’t heard that
story before. Did the duchess ever regret her decision? Did she die happy?”
“I don’t know. I guess. It’s poetry. Although it seemed more like a
historical account by a keeper of chronicles, not a bard. The only indication
that the duchess might have guilt or sorrow was a line written that stated
she never left the country and rarely left the estate her entire life.”
“Sounds like she did feel bad.”
“She never visited her son or grandchildren. She didn’t play in the social
circles despite being the envy of the city. Marella died alone.”
“Perhaps she was weighed down by her guilt.”
“Yet it didn’t destroy her or doom her to a life of tragedy, poverty, or
want. It seemed like she had the favor of the gods.”
“My teacher once said, ‘the rain falls on the just and the unjust alike.’”
Seeing Saylor’s confused expression, Alana continued. “Sometimes, the
wicked can prosper and don’t ever get what’s coming to them.”
Saylor grimaced. “That’s not fair. The duchess stole a child. It seems
nothing bad happened to her. She never answered for what she did.”
Alana started to say something but stopped herself. Saylor thought she
knew what she was about to say.
“I know. My mother stole the daughter of the queen. Maybe your father
was right. My mother deserved to die. To pay the price for her actions.”
“My father let his frustration get the best of him. I don’t think he wanted
your mother to die. He’s very protective of family. The subject of the queen
and her child is quite touchy to him.”
Saylor began nodding then stopped, her brow furrowing as she thought
about what Alana had said.
“What do you mean? Protective of family. Why is he so protective of me?
I’m not his family, am I?”
Alana’s eyes widened slightly, her mouth opening as if she was trying to
think of the right thing to say. “You are the daughter of the queen, whom he
serves. That makes you more important than family.”
What is she not telling me?
Alana coughed, pretending something ashore caught her attention.
Saylor didn’t let it go.
“Your father was quite touchy about the queen, more than someone who
is simply loyal to her,” Saylor said. “Did you just let something slip?
Because she’s family.”
 Alana tried looking away but couldn’t escape Saylor’s intense scrutiny.
Alana scooted back in her chair, accidentally banging the back of her head
against the gunwale.
“Ok. Fine,” Alana said. “But don’t tell my father I told you. My father is
the Queen of Light’s older brother.”
“That is quite a secret to keep from me.”
“Well, at first, we weren’t sure about you. And then, when we were
mostly sure, you didn’t believe us. Then, we were on the run, and I haven’t
found the right time to tell you.”
“We’ve been together for days.”
“Please don’t be angry with me, Saylor. My father and I have kept our
identities hidden for so long that it’s become second nature to me. I never
know who to trust. Only a few people know who my father is. I didn’t know
if I should tell you. Since he didn’t, I figured I shouldn’t either. He’d
probably be angry with me for doing so.”
“I’m not angry at you, Alana. Of course, I’m not. It’s just an odd way to
find out I have a cousin and an uncle.”
“Well, it’s best if you keep that to yourself. My father isn’t sure where the
Lord Regent stands in all this. He’s been my father’s largest benefactor, but
those who sponsor him think he’s a knight secretly searching for the queen.
My father never told him, or anyone for that matter, that he thought you
survived.”
“So no one knows I’m alive except your father and you?”
“Not that I know of.”
“I wonder why your father doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“Many lords are loyal to the king,” Alana said. “Why wouldn’t they be?
He’s the king. If it was discovered that my father was trying to find the
queen, they might think he was trying to find the evil and treacherous
woman and bring her to justice. Or they might say he was trying to find the
princess so he can overthrow the king.”
“Which is it? Is that what your father is doing? Using me to overthrow
the king?”
 “No. But when you arrive at Balladin, be careful what you say, especially
to the Lord Regent and his family. At the right time, they will know who
you are.”
A broad smile filled her face.
“In the meantime, I can’t wait for you to attend the festival honoring the
start of the new year. There’s going to be a ball and everything.”
“We’re going to a royal ball?”
“Well, kind of royal. The Lord Regent is a noble. I always get an
invitation. I should be able to bring you with me.”
“Why do you always get one?”
Alana grinned with wicked delight. “One of his sons has been in love
with me since we were children.”
“You are still a child, Alana.”
“Perhaps. But we had the same teacher for years. The last time I saw him
was two and a half years ago. I think. He’s only a little older than me, but I
was taller. All the boys stood taller than him. He danced with me once then
asked me to marry him.”
Saylor’s face grew bright. “What? He did not. You were only nine. What
did you say?”
“I was cruel. I told him my father wouldn’t allow me to marry anyone
shorter than me. And I did so in front of the other boys. He hates me for it.
I’m sure.”
“And which son, may I ask, are you in love with?”
Alana’s eyes went wide, her cheeks flushing. “Saylor! I am a lady and
I’m not in love with any boy.”
“I’ll ask your father,” Saylor said, standing like she was going to ask him
right then.
Alana shrieked and grabbed Saylor’s arm.
“Don’t you dare, Saylor,” she said. “Or I won’t take you to the ball.”
“I can’t go anyway. I have nothing to wear.”
“We’ll find you something.”
“You’ll find a beautiful dress that will hide my aura from everyone at the
gala?”
 “Details, Saylor. Details.”
Alana pulled Saylor back down in the chair and began describing in
wondrous detail the latest fashions and traditions and even city gossip.
Avoiding further conversations about boys.
The whole idea of going to a royal ball elated Saylor.
The two stayed on the deck for hours talking. Together they walked the
deck, back and forth, until it grew dark, and they decided to try and sleep.
Though Saylor lay awake for hours imagining all the things Alana had
described.
Saylor fell asleep envisioning all the girls in lovely dresses, magnificent
palaces with buffets of foods from all over the nation, and even boys. Snot-
nosed, pimply, dirty, smelly, annoying boys. The thought of any of them
speaking to her, let alone asking for her hand in marriage, gave her
nightmares.

***

The darkness fell thick over the deck of the vessel carrying the princess
and her two companions toward Balladin. So thick, no one on the boat
noticed the three men lurking in their own boat next to the vessel.
A sliver of a moon had just begun rising in the east, its light almost
entirely blocked by the clouds. The lamp at the aft sat unlit, having either
run out of oil or having been extinguished.
The lamp at the front still gave off a dim light. The captain wouldn’t want
any boats traveling the river at night to ram him accidentally. He had
dropped the anchor, halting the boat, not wanting to navigate the river
through the thick darkness.
Enough blackness to hide the ill intentions of the leader and his two
companions. Not so black that the man couldn’t make out the shapes of the
other two moving toward their target. The hairy man who was protecting
the princess. He was asleep on some bales of hay at the front of the boat.
The two men were instructed to kill him in his sleep. To not even give
him a chance to fight back.
 The leader couldn’t believe his luck. The princess was asleep on the deck.
She must’ve gotten hot below. Or the protector had wanted her close.
He knew it was the princess because of the fur covering her. Even though
the furry cloak covered her face, he’d seen her wearing it earlier that day.
The two men crept toward the man at the front of the boat. The captain
and his crew were asleep below. Leaving the protection of the princess to
the capable man. How careless he had been. Obviously not figuring anyone
could get to them on the river.
Dressed in black from head to toe, only the eyes of the two men were
visible. They glinted, reflecting the dim light of the lamp at the bow,
indicating to him they were ready.
The leader drew out a dagger. He was only steps away from the princess.
He crawled next to her and put the dagger across the princess’s neck while
clamping his other hand across her mouth.
She cried out in fear when she realized what was happening.
He seethed, spitting his words through clenched teeth. “If ye know what’s
good for ya, you’ll keep your mouth shut and stay quiet. Understand?”
The princess nodded. He imagined the fear she must have in her eyes
even though it was too dark to see it.
He glanced toward the other men near the large bundle of fur at the aft.
They plunged their daggers into the bundle several times. He smirked. His
smile vanished as quickly as it had come upon him. Something wasn’t right.
The two men seemed confused. He could make out that they were looking
around for something.
A large mass rose, blocking his vision from the two.
A man with a deep voice spoke, his voice a growl, the sound a wolf
would make could it talk. “Are you looking for me?”
It was a trap. The protector had been hiding.
The man holding the princess let out a yell warning the other two men.
The two men responded immediately once they saw the threat.
The closest man lunged toward the massive man. The protector turned to
the side. He grabbed the attacker’s wrist, snapping it, before smashing him
in the face with a mighty fist. Before his unconscious form had time to
slump to the ground, the other man lunged from the other side. Dagger in
hand.
He had a direct line at the protector's unprotected side.
The massive wolf-like creature twisted only a little, just enough for the
dagger to slide past his torso. In one smooth motion, another mighty fist
slammed onto the man’s shoulder.
As the metal blade of the dagger skittered across the deck, the vicious
man-beast clobbered the second man, sending him flying over the edge and
into the river.
The leader was on his feet now. He had hauled the princess to her feet,
keeping his own dagger firmly to her throat as he pushed her toward the
back of the boat, using her as a shield. If he could get her to his boat, he
could escape with her. That’s all that mattered. It didn’t even matter that the
other two were dead, as long as he captured what he had come there for.
“Take one more step,” the leader said to the protector, “and I’ll spill her
blood all over the deck.”
The massive man-beast hesitated then took a step toward him. The leader
pulled the knife closer to the girl’s skin. She let out a cry of pain as the
blade pressed against her neck.
“I’m going to take several steps,” the protector said, growling the words.
“When I get to you, regardless of whether you kill her or not, I’ll rip out
your heart and devour it while it is still beating.”
Fear pulsed through the leader’s veins. Even though he didn’t believe the
protector would actually sacrifice the princess to get to him. He’d have to
let him go.
The deranged beast lumbered closer. The dark man backed toward the
edge of the boat where his vessel to safety awaited.
“I swear. I’ll do it,” the leader said, although his voice lacked conviction.
“You’ve had chances to kill her. Had the dark being wanted her dead,
she’d be dead. What will happen to you, if out of cowardice you try to save
your meager life by killing the girl instead of taking her alive? Who do you
fear more? Me or the dark one?”
The leader had little time to contemplate, the giant of a man was an arm’s
length away. He snarled and shoved the girl toward the approaching beast,
leaping overboard before the crazed animal could catch him.

***

The wolfman stopped the girl from falling, resting his hands on each of
her arms to steady her.
“Are you alright, Alana?” he said, pulling back the girl’s furry hood.
She nodded several times quickly and pressed her face against his chest,
trying to steady her increased breathing.
“Yes, Father. I’m alright. But I was so scared he was going to kill me.”
“I wouldn’t have let him kill you.” The wolfman showed her the dagger
hidden in his palm. “You know how good I can throw this. Had he delayed
one second longer, then this would have been…well, let’s just say his left
eye would’ve had a close-up view of the tip of this blade.”
Alana sniffled, and tried to smile.
His massive hand patted the top of her head.
Saylor sprinted up the stairs from the hold where she’d been sleeping,
obviously having heard the commotion.
At the wolfman’s insistence, she had exchanged cloaks with Alana earlier
that evening before going to bed. He had made her sleep downstairs and
made Alana sleep on the deck. He wouldn’t explain why.
Several others below deck were awakened as well and were now on the
deck. The captain lit several lamps and ordered his men to bring the
unconscious man over to the wolfman, commanding others to check the
hold and other places for people who shouldn’t be there.
“What happened?” Saylor asked, staring at the quivering Alana clutching
her father.
The captain’s men dragged the unconscious attacker over and dropped
him on the deck, dousing him with a bucket of water. As he spluttered, the
wolfman handed Alana to Saylor and knelt over the man.
“Who sent you?” the wolfman said.
“I’m not saying anything.”
The wolfman leaned forward and got right in his face.
 The man’s bravery wavered. “I don’t know who it was that hired us. I
only know from where.”
The wolfman pulled the man to his feet. A slight whistle sounded.
Thwack. An arrow stuck into the man’s shoulder. He cried out.
“Down!” the wolfman said, pulling Alana and Saylor to the deck.
The man began choking and gagging. Then all sounds and movement
from him ceased. The wolfman released his grip and let him fall to the
deck.
“Poison,” the captain said. “That’s the only thing that would kill him that
fast. The wound was not fatal by itself.”
“Get us moving,” the wolfman ordered.
“The man said, us,” Saylor said. “There were more?”
“Two others,” the wolfman answered.
Saylor glanced at Alana. She rested against the gunwale now, her hands
shaking.
“Is that why you had me and Alana switch coats?” Saylor asked. “So you
could use her as bait?”
The wolfman nodded.
“She could’ve died, Wolfman,” Saylor said.
“Stay down,” he said. Ignoring her. “There may be more of them.”
“I will not,” she said. “I demand to know why you would do that to your
daughter.”
“They would not have killed her.”
“There is no way you could know that for certain. I told you before,
neither of you will sacrifice yourself for me.”
“I expected the attack. I had to know who they were. I needed them to
come on board so I could question them.”
“It was a stupid plan. It didn’t work, did it. The man was killed by the
arrow before he could talk. What did I tell you about your plans?”
The wolfman seemed like it took tremendous strength for him to refrain
from yelling. “My duty is to protect you.”
“I don’t care about your duty, Wolfman.”
 “It matters not what you care about. I gave my word to keep you safe.”
“I don’t want your protection at the expense of my cousin.”
His eyes widened. Like he didn’t know she knew.
“It’s not negotiable. I will not fail to protect the queen’s daughters.”
The wolfman and Saylor stared at one another for several seconds as they
each pondered the possible ramifications of the truth he’d just revealed. His
slip clearly more consequential than Alana’s.
The wolfman turned away, trying to get his own breathing under control.
“Your attempt to keep all of this a secret will come at a cost,” Saylor said.
“You leave me no choice.”
She stepped into the middle of the deck. Everyone watching was in a
state of confusion. She pulled off Alana’s fur cloak. Her aura began to shine
in the night, pushing aside some of the heavy and thick blackness.
“My name is Princess Saylor,” she shouted off the bow. “I am the
daughter of the Queen of Light and the King of Darkness. I am sorry for
hiding for so many years. I will hide no longer.”
The wolfman tried to stop her, but to no avail. The captain and all the
deck hands and passengers took a knee and marveled.
Her aura rose to the heavens, a bright beacon for any to see for miles
around. Saylor walked quickly over to Alana and pulled her to her feet.
Smiling as bright as her aura, Saylor said, “I think now, Alana, it will be
much easier to find a dress for me to wear to the ball. And I might even get
my own invitation.”
Alana grinned, her breathing steadying. “I’m sure you will receive many
invitations, Princess Saylor, and some of them might be for your hand.”
“Yuck,” said Saylor, wriggling her nose. “Boys. Is it too late to un-
announce myself?”
Alana giggled. “It might be.”
Saylor nodded. “Very well. Now, Wolfman, tell me all about my sister.
Starting with her name.”
“Her name is Sawmta. And that’s all I know about her.”
“Well, after that lengthy conversation, we still have so much time left. I
can’t wait to tell you a thousand different ways to stew potatoes. And the
hundreds of ways to cook the chiva root. I’ll wait to share my favorite way
until the end. Which one would you like to hear first?”
The wolfman growled. Or groaned. Sighing with defeat, he nodded and
took a seat. Saylor beamed and sat with her chin in her hands. A captive
audience of one.

OceanofPDF.com
 13
The Invited

The city was more magnificent than Alana had described it. People from all
over the kingdom roamed the streets, selling their wares, trading foods and
tools, and things Saylor had never heard of before.
Alana and Saylor spent the better part of five days exploring, although
always under the watchful eye of the wolfman. He remained unhappy that
Saylor had chosen to announce her identity to all the crew on the river boat.
The five days passed without incident, but his anxiety had only grown once
they were on land and among the people. To ease his mind and allow him a
chance to sleep, Saylor had agreed to wear her fur cloak at night.
“There’s no use tempting fate,” he said. “You’ve seen the lengths your
enemies will go to kill you.”
As expected, news of the Princess of Light’s arrival preceded them to
Balladin. Those working on the piers and docks stared at her. As the
wolfman led them through town, Saylor heard the whispers. She smiled and
waved, not caring whether the people truly believed she was who she’d
claimed to be.
Despite all the wondrous sights and the spectacular food, one thing stood
above everything else as the greatest surprise.
“I still can’t believe there is sunlight here,” Saylor said, staring out the
second story window of Alana’s home.
Alana slouched in a settee near her bed, not paying attention, and
mumbled something in reply. Saylor knew the source of her depression.
“Don’t worry, Alana. I’m sure you’ll get an invitation to the ball any day
now.”
“Five days we’ve been here. He must know by now that I’m here.”
 “Are you so anxious to see him? I thought you didn’t like him. That he
was too short.”
“It’s not about him. I’m anxious to see all my friends and their pretty
dresses.”
Alana’s eyebrows narrowed. “I bet he started hanging out with that little
brunette since I was gone. Maybe he won’t give me an invite just to spite
me.”
“I thought it wasn’t about him!” Saylor said, laughing.
Alana wasn’t amused and stared vacantly at the wall. Saylor turned to
look back out the window, captivated by the sun’s rays reflecting off the
golden spires of the cathedral and the brass domes of several large buildings
she hadn’t yet explored.
“I’m amazed at the sunlight in the city. I thought it was always dark.”
“The king’s darkness doesn’t touch all corners of Edenisia,” Alana
explained. “Or the kingdoms beyond the seas or across the Selentian
Mountains. The further from the capital city of Lethos you get, the less dark
it becomes.”
“I wonder why my mother didn’t take us further away.”
Alana shrugged after standing, where she began pacing.
“It’s not easy to move away from the land of your birth. Things are
different, like customs and languages. In Edenisia, there are three different
languages spoken. And many dialects in each of those. There’s no better
way to announce that you’re a stranger then by going somewhere new and
opening your mouth.”
“Are the lands further out, loyal to the king or to the queen?”
“Now you’re thinking like a princess. And that’s the golden question. Our
people are a superstitious lot. The ones near Lethos blame the queen for the
darkness, mainly because the king tells them to. They believe they are
cursed. The ones way out there, don’t wish to incur the wrath of the king or
the curse of the queen. So they stay neutral.”
“That makes sense.”
“The Lord Regent Drayke pays plenty of tribute to keep the king from
meddling and won’t say a negative word about the king or a positive one
about the queen. I’m certain he has no idea what he’s supposed to do or say
about you, Saylor.”
“Fine by me if he says nothing.”
Alana shook her head. “The people will want to know what they are
supposed to think. It’s up to the Lord Regent to inform them.”
“Maybe he won’t do anything about me. I’ve never done anything to
him.”
“He may welcome you under the pretense of granting hospitality to the
daughter of the king. He may want to ignore you until the king decides your
fate. Of course, it’s possible that Lord Drayke will throw you in the
dungeon as the daughter of the traitor. So, are you still glad you announced
yourself?”
“Yes, Alana. It’s better if everything gets out in the open.”
“Well, don’t expect undying devotion and affection from anyone.”
A carriage came to a stop right outside Alana’s front door.
“Alana, look.”
Alana raced to the window, nearly hitting her face against it as she tried
to peer down into the street. Her entire face brimmed with glee.
“It’s about time,” Alana said, sprinting toward the steps. Clearly thinking
her invitation had arrived.
“Come on,” Alana said to Saylor. “There may be an invitation for you
too.”
Saylor followed, though she kept an easy pace, not in the same sort of
hurry as Alana.
The knocker on the door sounded, clanging loudly. The wolfman was
already at the door. He put an arm out, preventing Alana from opening it.
“Sorry, Father. I shall be a patient lady,” Alana said, sitting on a chair
near the table.
The wolfman opened the door. An elderly gentleman dressed regally in a
gilded red jacket with long coattails, bright white trousers, and buckled
shoes, stood outside the door holding a large brown envelope with golden
lettering and golden patterned borders.
 “My lord,” the envoy said, bowing at the waist, “I am looking for the
Princess, Lady Saylor Wren, daughter of King Greystone.”
Alana forced a smile at Saylor. Unable to hide the disappointment on her
face.
Confused, Saylor went to the door. “I am Saylor.”
The envoy looked her up and down. “This is for you.”
He thrust the envelope at her. After taking it, she bowed her head and
turned away. The envoy cleared his throat, remaining in the doorway. The
wolfman was next to her ready to strike if the need arose.
“You’ve finished your business,” the wolfman said. “Be gone with you.”
“The Lord Regent Kalston Drayke awaits your reply, my lady.”
Saylor opened the envelope and removed an ornate card with fancy black
lettering. After reading it, she was confused. “Excuse me, you said the Lord
Regent awaits my reply. This isn’t from him.”
“My lady, my apologies for your misunderstanding. The Lord Regent
Drayke is requesting you attend the New Year Celebration Gala with his
son, Lord Keaston Drayke.”
“Ah. Of course,” Saylor said, glancing at Alana. She no longer smiled
and slumped into the chair.
“What shall I tell the Lord Regent?” the envoy asked again.
“Is there an invitation for my friend Alana?” Saylor asked.
“I’m afraid there are far too many in attendance already. The festivities
have been planned for months. It’s only due to a last-minute cancellation
that you are able to attend.”
“Really? I am the daughter of the king and queen and I’m only invited
due to a cancellation? You may tell your lord that Lady Alana and I have
plans elsewhere.”
The envoy grimaced, as if he’d eaten something putrid. “It is not wise to
disappoint the Lord Regent.”
“I am the princess. Perhaps your lord should worry about disappointing
me. Good day, sir.”
The wolfman slammed the door before the envoy could reply. Saylor
thought she saw, for the rarest of moments, a smile pass across the
wolfman’s lips. It was gone before she could be certain.
“No invitation for me,” Alana said, rising to her feet. Steam coming from
the top of her head. Her jaw was clenched, and her fists balled.
“That arrogant, pompous, self-absorbed son of a lizard moth.”
Saylor chuckled. “Lizard moth?”
“You shouldn’t have turned down the invitation,” Alana said, almost
bitterly.
“I’m not going without you. I don’t really care either way.”
“Well, I do. I want to go to that ball. It may not be important to you, but it
is to me.”
She seemed mad at Saylor. Like it was her fault she wasn’t going.
“You have royal blood, Saylor. My father is only the brother of the queen.
And she came from peasantry, as did my father. Just because she became
royal, doesn’t mean my brother is. I have no noble blood at all. Blood is
important. Which is why I didn’t get an invitation!”
Alana stomped her feet twice. Then burst out crying and ran up the stairs.
Saylor started to follow after her, but the wolfman stopped her.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “The envoy will be back shortly.”
“With an invitation? Or an army?” Saylor asked. “To make me go.”
The wolfman snorted slightly. His version of a laugh. “Which would you
prefer?”
“I’m sure you’d prefer fighting to dancing,” Saylor said, plopping down
onto the wooden chair Alana had just vacated.
“You might be surprised. I’ve been known to dance the regatta fairly
well.”
Saylor glanced sideways at him, not sure if he joked. He stood at the
window, scanning the streets.
“You would rather dance than fend off an army?” she asked.
“Fighting is something I do by necessity, Saylor. Not by choice.”
“Fair enough. I just can’t see you at a grand ball.”
“My wife and I attended all the finest balls. Although I prefer dancing a
jig in a local tavern. As did she, if truth be known.”
 His face and shoulders drooped when he mentioned his wife.
“I know you miss her,” Saylor said. “It makes me sad that you spent so
much time away from her searching for me.”
“Don’t let my sacrifice be in vain by acting foolishly, Saylor.”
“I’ve lived my whole life in hiding. I won’t do it anymore. Always on the
run. Always looking over my shoulder, believing everyone is an enemy.”
“Then you need allies. People you can trust completely. The battles you
must fight will be won on ballroom floors and in the courts of lords and
ladies who smile to your face then try to stab you in the back.”
“Alana is much better suited for that game. I can shoot a bow and arrow,
but I don’t know how to act at balls and galas.”
“Alana says you read books. What have they taught you?”
He had a point she hadn’t thought of. Her mother did try to educate her
about the things of the world. She hadn’t realized it at the time.
“I read books about laws and chronicles of kings and the history of
nations. My mother said she got them because they were the cheapest. Now
I’m not so sure. I think she wanted me to know about this life I might
someday have.”
“Could be,” the wolfman said, pensively.
“I wonder if she was trying to prepare me for this?”
The wolfman nodded then fixed his gaze on something outside. “What
did I tell you? He’s back.”
Before he could step toward the door from the window, Alana flew down
the steps, half stumbling as she reached the door first. She collected herself,
smoothing her dress, lifting her chin. She opened the door with a bored
expression on her face.
The envoy had his hand in the air ready to knock.
“It seems in my haste to invite Lady Wren Greystone, I misplaced an
invitation for Lady Alana Silver. I apologize for the slight.”
“Think nothing of it,” Alana said, plucking the envelope from his hand.
“You may tell Lord Keaston Drayke that Lady Saylor Wren will be there
with me,” she said. “She’ll be wearing emerald green. He should wear
colors that don’t clash with her hair, like dark reds or yellow. Though I can’t
see Keaston ever wearing yellow. I’ll also be wearing green most likely, but
you may tell Lord Krayston Drayke that he needn’t worry about his attire
clashing with my hair.”
The envoy cleared his throat.
“I’m afraid, my lady, that his lordship already has someone to accompany
him, having agreed months ago. Had we known you were arriving, I’m
certain he’d have extended an invite to you first.”
Alana smiled graciously, struggling not to let her disappointment show.
“Of course. How silly of me for not informing him. I’m certain he’s found a
girl with a status equal to his own.”
“The Lord Regent shall send his carriage for you near the sixth hour after
midday tomorrow. Until then.”
The envoy bowed and turned away.
Alana closed the door gently and began jumping up and down with
unbridled joy, raising her arms in the air.
“We’re going to the ball! We’re going to the ball!”
She waltzed over to Saylor and began twirling her around. Saylor smiled
with surprise, even though she didn’t share Alana’s enthusiasm.
Without warning, Alana froze and stared at her father, the color rushing
from her cheeks.
“Tomorrow. It’s tomorrow. We have nothing to wear. And we only have
until tomorrow. I’m certain all the shops will be empty of the latest
fashions. What was I thinking, waiting? I should’ve anticipated this.”
Alana began pacing again, voicing a thousand problems that needed
solving.
The wolfman stopped her mid pace.
“One shop at a time, Alana,” the wolfman said. “And one problem an
hour, please.”
Alana smiled, placing a hand on her chest, letting out a breath of relief.
“Yes. But we must go right away, just as soon as I change into a shopping
dress. I can’t wear this drab thing. The seamstresses will think I have no
style.”
 Alana rushed upstairs, talking to herself, returning once before heading
back to change again. When she finally chose the appropriate attire, she
stood in front of Saylor, her face aglow.
“Now, Lady Saylor. Let’s go shopping,” Alana said, squeezing Saylor’s
hands.
“I’m ready. Which shop are we going to?” Saylor said.
Alana’s hands trembled. “All of them.”
True to her word, it seemed like they visited every single shop and
dressmaker in the city, though Alana assured her that, since they only had a
day, they wouldn’t be able to go to the rest of them.
Finding the perfect dress proved to be exhausting and difficult.
Alana found hers fairly easily, something that surprised Saylor. She
thought it would take longer for Alana to make up her mind. It turned out
Alana needed much more time to find Saylor the perfect and most
appropriate gown possible.
In the end, they found it at the first shop they visited, though they didn’t
purchase it then. Alana needed to be certain and dragged Saylor to almost a
dozen shops before returning to the first one.
Saylor had often walked for miles in the mountains, hardly tiring. After a
day of shopping, her feet hurt more than if she had trekked through a dozen
mountain trails.
When they returned to Alana’s home Saylor fell asleep without much
difficulty. The last thing she remembered was Alana talking about all the
people Saylor was going to meet.
The following day, Alana could hardly contain herself, pacing and
pacing, pausing only to eat when her father insisted. Speaking constantly
about all the details that needed to be done to prepare for the festivities.
Alana squealed with delight when it became time to actually get ready.
“A bath first, Saylor,” Alana said, dragging her toward the room with the
large brass tub. “I’ll dab a little bit of sweet fragrances and moisturizing
herbs in the water. It may get hot inside the ballroom. We have to keep you
smelling nice.”
Once clean to Alana’s satisfaction, she helped Saylor into her gown.
 Saylor stood in front of the large mirror in Alana’s room. Amazed. Not
only at her reflection but astounded by the mirror itself. Most of the time,
Saylor only knew what she looked like by staring into the waters of the
river, only getting a good idea of what others saw if the waters remained
still enough.
“You told him I’d be wearing green. This dress is not green,” Saylor said,
twirling to watch the many layers and ruffles of the purple and black skirted
portion flare out like a bell. She moved from side to side, testing to see how
much freedom her legs had underneath the uncomfortable monstrosity.
“I know. Remember who you are.”
Saylor nodded. “I know. I’m a princess. What does that have to do with
it?”
“You need to keep them guessing.”
“I’m allowed to change my mind, I suppose.”
“That’s right you are,” said Alana, smiling while fluffing the folds and
layers of the dress, making sure each one was placed to perfection.
Though the fabric hugged her forearms tightly, it loosened above the
elbow, amassing at her upper arms, culminating with capped sleeves on her
shoulders. Another layer of thick fabric lay across the tops of her shoulders,
pointing at each end, an ornate pin holding it in place at the neck.
At first, Saylor thought it would look ridiculous. She had preferred the
green dress they almost bought. Now that she saw this one on her, the top
shoulder caps made her look quite elegant and far from how she felt.
“The green dress was simpler,” she observed.
Alana shook her head. “It was too simple. It made you look like a child.”
“I am a child.”
Alana stood beside Saylor, giving her a side hug as they both admired
Saylor’s reflection. “Not anymore, Saylor,” she said, resting her head
against her shoulder. “Not since you threw off the furs. This dress isn’t as
festive as many of the others. But it suits you more. It says you are someone
serious. Don’t you feel serious?”
“I feel something. It just isn’t me.”
Alana grinned. “But there’s where you’re wrong. It is you.”
 “I feel like simple furs is me.”
“The girl in furs was the girl hiding from the world. Now you’re ready to
face the world. This dress says that you are a princess.”
“Ok. I trust you. This is your world. I need to learn it. I guess I’m as
ready as I’ll ever be.”
Alana laughed gayly. “You most certainly are not. We have to do
something about your hair.”
“What else does it need? It’s brushed.”
“Um. Brushing is the basics. Now it needs everything else.”
Saylor sat while Alana went to work, gathering locks here and there,
letting tresses free in other places, piling up rolls on the back of her head,
and braiding small strands, weaving them in seamlessly. When she finished,
she stood back to admire her work.
Once in front of the mirror again, Saylor couldn’t believe hair could look
so complex and so beautiful. Her face said it all since her words failed her.
“Now,” said Alana, “just relax and don’t mess it up. I need to get ready.”
Considering how long it took Alana to get Saylor ready, she guessed it
would take Alana twice as long. She was mistaken. It seemed hardly any
time had passed before Alana descended the stairs to wait with Saylor.
When the wolfman saw his daughter, his eyes widened to the size of
saucers.
Saylor laughed. “Mr. Wolfman, let me introduce you to your daughter.
It’s really her.”
Alana smiled and twirled, letting her single layer skirt fly out like a
flower petal, the fabric flowing upward seamlessly to an embroidered top
that hugged her thin frame and ran up to her chin, flowing out to sheath her
arms. Unlike Saylor’s hair, Alana had pulled her blonde tresses back, the
long curls held in place with a comb that curved, conforming to the shape of
her head.
“You look so beautiful,” Saylor said. “Actually, what you are wearing
feels more like me. It’s lovely and simple. Oh my, I don’t mean that you are
simple. What I meant was …”
 Alana laughed. “You are the princess, Saylor. Nothing you say will ever
be the wrong thing. Remember that.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll say something to embarrass myself.”
“That’s what I’m referring to. These people value blood lineage. It
doesn’t matter where your mother came from before. She is now the queen,
making you blood royal. As such, your blood is greater and of more
importance than anyone else’s in this city, including the Lord Regent. And
he knows it. So what you say is always the right thing to say.”
“I’ll need your help interpreting what they say.”
“I am at your service, Lady Saylor Wrenen,” Alana said, bowing her head
while curtsying.
“Stop that, please. I’m sure it will be awkward enough watching
everyone else do that. I don’t want you to.”
Alana giggled and locked her arm around Saylor’s. “Well, get used to it.
That’s why I chose this dress and why my hair is like it is. I am a simple
girl. If I wear something too extravagant, people will think I’m putting on
airs, pretending to be what I’m not. And if I style my hair with any
complexity, they’ll laugh knowing I did it myself since I don’t have a lady
in waiting.”
“I suppose,” Saylor said. Something made her pause. “Wait, are people
going to think I have a lady in waiting?”
“Yes, they will. You are the princess. You should have one.”
“But I don’t have one.”
“But you do,” Alana said, giving Saylor’s arm a loving squeeze.
“You’re my friend, Alana.”
“It’s my choice and my privilege to serve you this way.”
“I don’t deserve this. Not from you or your father.”
“Of course, you don’t. If you did deserve it, then it would mean you are
entitled to it, which would mean there’s a law or ordinance demanding we
serve you. And if we served due to a law, then it wouldn’t be volunteer
service. It’d be indentured servitude.”
“You mean slaves.”
Alana nodded. “We are your servants whether you like it or not.”
 Saylor sighed. “I’m unworthy of it, but I’m happy for it. And I’m glad
that you’ll be by my side all evening.”
Alana let go of Saylor’s arm and laughed nervously. “About that.”
Saylor eyed her sideways. “You aren’t going to abandon me, are you?”
“No. Well, I forgot to tell you something. Since you’re going as the guest
of the Lord Regent’s son, I feel I should tell you as much as I know about
Keaston. There’s more to know about him than there is to know about you.”
“What?”
“Actually,” Alana said, with a mischievous grin on her lips. “Keaston and
everyone else know nothing about you. They don’t know where you were
raised. For all they know, you could’ve been hiding away in the palace and
raised by your father.”
“Just like my sister, Princess Sawmta?”
“Exactly. We know precious little about her fate, though not for lack of
trying. I suspect the kingdom knows even less. You may be the dead
daughter come back to life, but you could also be the princess sent by the
king to check on his people. It might cast some doubt on all the rumors
they’ve believed over the years.”
“You mean rumors about the queen.”
Alana nodded. “Now, enough of that. About Keaston.”
The knocker clanging against the door cut her off. The wolfman opened
it. The envoy stood there waiting.
“Go on,” Alana said, escorting her to the door but staying inside, letting
her fingers slip out of Saylor’s hands.
Saylor turned back, alarmed. “You’re not going with me?”
The envoy held up his hand, expecting Saylor to place hers in it. “Your
Ladyship, your escort awaits you.”
Saylor looked from Alana to the envoy and then back to her friend. Alana
grinned and shrugged. “Oops. I guess I forgot to mention that you’ll be
escorted to the ball by Lord Keaston.”
“But … Alana …,” Saylor stammered.
“Don’t worry. My father and I shall be close behind. He’ll see me there.”
“You’re my lady in waiting, right?”
 “My Lady,” the envoy said, “Lord Keaston is waiting.”
Saylor swallowed. She regained her composure, remembering who she
was. “As he should be, sir. I’ve been waiting for nearly half an hour.” She
let out a deep breath and placed her hand in the envoy’s.
“I’ll see you there,” Alana said.
Saylor nodded, preparing to say something regal or royal or clever. She
glanced toward the carriage and saw something, or rather someone,
climbing the steps toward her. All air from her lungs seemed to flee at the
same time, all thoughts of words escaping with it.
“I’ve got this,” the person said, aiming his words at the envoy. The envoy
passed Saylor’s hand to the young man smiling with bright white teeth. His
blue eyes shining brightly, contrasting greatly with his dark hair. She hoped
he wouldn’t feel her hands trembling.
She tried to tell herself her heart raced due to the anxiety of being left
alone by Alana and by the excitement of heading to the ball. She hoped
desperately it didn’t tremble because the handsomest young man in all of
Edenisia was holding her hand and talking to her.
“Your Ladyship,” the envoy said, “May I present—”
The young man cut him off. “I said I got this.” The envoy bowed and
headed toward the carriage.
“Princess Saylor Wren Greystone, my name is Keaston. Keaston Drayke.
It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
He bowed at the waist. She nodded once in reply. “The mine is all
pleasure.” He appeared confused.
Great, Saylor said to herself, trying to hide a cringe from appearing on
her face, wondering if she should correct her speech. She decided against it,
leaning on Alana’s words not to be embarrassed about saying the wrong
thing.
Alana had been preparing Saylor to match wits with all the girls. She’d
said nothing about how to talk to the son of the Lord Regent. One simple
smile and a touch of the hand and her tongue had lost its connection with
her brain.
Saylor, you are doomed. This is going to be a disaster.
OceanofPDF.com
 14
Lord Keaston Drayke

Saylor was as nervous as a wild ox surrounded by a pack of wolves. To say

she was out of her element was an understatement.
How did I get myself into this predicament?
She’d rather be facing down a pack of wolves than get in that carriage
with a stranger. The ruffles on her skirt went all the way to the ground. The
thought of tripping on them and landing flat on her face in front of Lord
Keaston Drayke was beyond terrifying.
He held her arm tightly as if he sensed her unease. Good thing. Her knees
were so wobbly she might trip over the smallest rock.
Keaston helped her up the steps to the carriage, ushering her to the
benched seat facing forward. Then climbed up and sat beside her. You’d
think that sitting would help calm her nerves.
It had the opposite effect. She had a bigger worry now.
What do I say?
She didn’t know how to act around royalty. While she might be royalty
herself, she had no experience at acting like anything other than what she
was. A mountain girl with minimum education and no training on decorum.
She might as well be a fish on dry land. That’s how helpless she felt.
If she could jump out of the carriage and get as far away from there as
possible, that’s what she’d do. With that dress she doubted she could even
get out of the carriage without help. In those shoes, she doubted she could
run two steps before falling over.
When Alana first mentioned a royal ball, Saylor thought it’d be exciting.
Thinking Alana would be there every step of the way to guide her through
the process. Now she was in this strange carriage, with a strange boy,
wearing a strange dress, with her hair so tightly wound on top of her head,
she thought it might explode.
And Alana was nowhere to be found. Supposedly loading into the
carriage behind them. She wanted to look, but it didn’t seem appropriate or
ladylike. Princess like. Alana had warned her about first impressions. She
was a princess and needed to act like one at all times. Especially in front of
Lord Keaston when they first meet.
Her date didn’t seem the least bit nervous. Like he’d done this many
times before. Which created even more anxiety in her. Shouldn’t he be
nervous to be in her presence? Saylor was supposed to be the princess.
Different from all the other girls.
Then she realized. This handsome boy must have all the girls in the city
throwing themselves at him. She was just another girl to him.
Since she didn’t know what to think and certainly didn’t know what to
say, she kept her mouth shut. Stuck her nose in the air and pretended to be
bored. That was princess-like behavior. At least that’s all she could think of
in that awkward moment.
The envoy tried to enter the carriage but was immediately reprimanded
by Lord Keaston.
“You can ride in the other carriage,” he said roughly, getting a surprised
look from the envoy. “You ride with Alana and her father.”
The envoy bowed and removed himself from the carriage, shutting the
door.
That was Lord Regent behavior. She could learn a lot from him.
Saylor wasn’t yet used to the thought of being able to order everyone
around. She had so much to learn.
Honestly, she hoped she never became that brash and uncaring and spoke
that harshly to anyone.
Why couldn’t the envoy ride with them? She didn’t care. She’d welcome
another person in the carriage. It might make things less unnerving.
The envoy called out to the coachman that the passengers were ready. A
moment later, the team of six white horses began high stepping down the
cobblestone street, their hoofs announcing to all the residents that someone
important was in the carriage.
 Saylor leaned forward and stuck her head out the window and looked
back. Unable to control her curiosity. Alana waved and blew her a kiss
before disappearing from view.
The envoy bowed toward her. She felt important, even if she didn’t think
she was.
Neither of them said anything for several minutes. Saylor looked out the
window on her side of the carriage and he looked out the other. Finally, the
silence became so eerie one of them had to say something.
He spoke first.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
Saylor didn’t think she’d ever heard those words before in her entire life.
It left her momentarily speechless. A thank you would’ve been an
appropriate response, but she didn’t think of it. Instead, she tried to make a
joke.
“You’ve been spying on me, Lord Keaston,” she said.
Her gaze flickered toward him momentarily, then she turned back to look
at the window when he turned his head toward her.
“What do you mean?” he asked, smiling nervously. “Your Highness. I
would never spy on you.”
Her head turned back in his direction, and they made eye contact for the
first time. She flashed a smile, so he’d know she was kidding.
“That jacket matches my dress perfectly, as if they were cut from the
same roll of fabric. That means you were spying on me.”
“I was told you’d be wearing green.”
“A girl has the right to change her mind,” she said, dipping her head
shyly.
Keaston raised his arms to glance at the bunched-up fabric of his black
sleeves, held in place with purple gauntlets emblazoned with silver
decorations, the guards rising from his wrists to his elbows, serving as the
sleeve cuffs.
He did look very regent-like.
“What you are wearing doesn’t match green,” she said, teasingly.
 “I didn’t know that we had to match. I think these colors suit me quite
well,” he said, tugging on the lapels of his purple and black jacket making
sure its high neck collar remained upright.
“I agree. I think you look fabulous.”
“This shirt is one of my favorites.”
He lifted his chin and used a finger to pull the thick material away from
his skin, the shirt’s collar rising almost to his chin. He noticed Saylor eyeing
him intently.
“It’s not very comfortable though. I don’t know about you, but I much
prefer clothes I can run in the woods in or ride a horse. I’m sure you’re used
to wearing such formal clothes, being a princess and all, but I will never get
used to it.”
If you only knew what I was wearing a week ago. Before my life was
turned upside down.
“I agree with you,” she said. “I prefer clothes I can hunt in.”
“You are a hunter?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“You are full of surprises.”
“How so?”
“For starters, we all thought you were dead.”
“Is that why I didn’t get an invitation sooner? I’ve been in Balladin for
nearly a week, but the invitation didn’t come until yesterday.”
He stumbled over his words. Like she was admonishing him, which was
not what she meant. He tugged on his shirt collar again.
“We only knew a day before you stepped off the boat that you were
coming to our city. Like I said, we thought you were dead.”
“As you can see, I’m very much alive.”
“We needed to confirm it was really you.”
“Ahh. And you’re certain now?”
He smiled. “No one else in Balladin or the entire kingdom has an aura of
light shining down upon them at night. It’s muted in the daylight, but I can
still see your aura glimmering in the dust particles.”
 “Really? So you must know I am who they say I am.”
Saylor peered deep into his blue eyes.
Keaston obviously felt the need to explain further.
“My father was the one who was suspicious. We didn’t know your
business. We figured if you wanted something from us, then you’d send
word. Since you didn’t, my father decided that you wished to be left alone.
He didn’t intend to invite you to the festival at all.”
“Why did he?”
“My mother told him it would be wise to do so.””
“I’m glad she did. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“From Alana?”
“Yes.”
“I heard she was mad because I didn’t invite her.”
“She’s my lady-in-waiting. And my friend. I don’t go anywhere without
her.”
Saylor would never mention that she had known Alana for less than two
weeks.
“Of course. My mistake. I apologize for the oversight. For the
inconsideration. Is that even a word?” He acted like he intended to say
something else but stopped himself.
He was charming. Saylor liked him.
“I don’t know if it’s a word or not. But I understood its meaning. Which
is the purpose of words. Anyway, apology accepted. I’m over it. Alana, on
the other hand, might still be a bit perturbed.”
“I’ll make it up to her. I promise.”
Keaston shifted in his seat and crossed his legs, smoothing out the fabric
of his black trousers tucked into the tops of his knee-high boots, their polish
reflecting the sun’s rays pouring in through the window.
“Will you dance with her?”
“I can’t put my name on her dance card,” he said.
“What is a dance card?”
 Lord Keaston looked at her with twisted lips. Totally confused by the
remark. She realized her mistake.
Then he laughed. “You’re kidding.”
“Of course,” she said.
She’d ask Alana what a dance card was when she got her alone.
“Is my name on your dance card?” she asked.
“Men don’t have dance cards.”
“Why can’t you put your name on Alana’s card?”
“The younger children will dance in the other room. We will dance with
the grown-ups.”
“Alana and I are the same age!”
“You are royal. You’ll be in the room with me.”
“Oh. What other girl’s list do you wish to have your name on?”
He hesitated.
“I’m afraid that Alana is not the only girl that I have made mad at me,”
he said sheepishly.
“Oh really.”
Lord Keaston glanced outside, his mirth fading. “I was planning on
attending the ball with someone else. When my father decided to ask you,
he insisted that you go as my date. That meant canceling on the other girl.”
“Will I see this girl there, so that I may apologize to her for stealing her
date?”
He nodded.
“What’s her name?”
“You don’t have to apologize to her,” he said, nervously.
“I insist. What is her name?”
“Saylor, you do seem to have a knack for getting the truth out of me.”
“Apparently not. Since you won’t tell me her name.”
“Avalon. Miss Avalon Daewud, daughter of the one and only Duke
Llewton and Duchess Karmine Daewud.”
Saylor studied Keaston’s face. He stared at her blankly. Emotionless.
“Her father’s a Duke. He sounds important.”
 Keaston shrugged. “Yeah. Not as important as a princess, though.
According to my father, who insisted I ask you instead.”
“So I was your second choice?”
He began to fidget nervously. Saylor realized at that moment how much
power being a princess brought with it. Even a Lord could be made
nervous, by one sharp word.
“Like I said, I didn’t even know you were alive until a week ago. I asked
Avalon many weeks ago to go with me.”
“And how does she feel about you canceling on her?”
Keaston shrugged again. “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken with her. My
father, who seemed only too happy to do so, messaged her father. I’m
guessing she didn’t take it well. I mean, would you?”
“No. I wouldn’t. How old is she?”
Lord Keaston shook his head then exhaled a deep breath he’d been
holding. “Avalon is sixteen, she’s about the same age as me. She’ll get over
it.”
“Will you? It seems like you like her.”
Keaston sighed. “Who knows? This was my one chance with her. We’d
planned this evening for months. And then …”
He sighed again.
“And then I show up. I’m sorry. I feel really bad. I insist that you dance
the first dance with her.”
“My father would disown me. My mother would like it though. She
wants me to marry Avalon.”
“Marry! Oh feathers. Is that really something you are considering?”
He laughed again. “Not for a couple years. I’m sure my mother would
prefer it was sooner rather than later. But don’t tell my friends about this,
Princess Greystone.”
“Ugh. Just Saylor, please.”
“When it’s just you and me, I can do that. Around everyone else, I can’t.”
Saylor nodded. “Understandable.”
“But you needn’t follow the same protocol, Saylor. You can call me
Keaston or Master Drayke, Lord Keaston Drayke or even the son of his
mighty greatness Lord Regent Kalston Drayke.”
“How about I call you what Alana calls you?”
Keaston chuckled. “What does she call me? Mr. Pompous? Lord
Arrogant? Captain Callous? Whatever it is, I’m sure I deserve it.”
“Handsome. That’s what she calls you. Although, you’re right. She’s not
very happy with you.”
Keaston coughed and pounded his upper chest, clearing his throat.
Saylor laughed. “Although, you do seem to be taller than her now. She
said you were short. And that you were in love with her.”
He laughed. “It’s my brother, Krayston, who was in love with her. Still is,
I suppose. He’ll be overjoyed to see her.”
“Oh, my gosh. I’m so confused. Krayston. Keaston. Sons of Lord
Kalston. Your father had no imagination when naming you.”
That might be a good thing. If Alana became distracted by the younger
brother, maybe she’d forget Saylor was with Keaston. Although, a number
of other girls would probably be envious of her date. Who was handsome.
And much more charming than she expected.
While her stomach was still churning like an eddy, she’d grown more
comfortable in the situation. She could get used to this princess thing.
As the carriage plodded along, people began gathering in the streets,
trying to catch a glimpse of the ones inside. Saylor sat back, against the
carriage wall, not wanting them to see her. While she was getting used to
being in the carriage, she wasn’t used to all the attention she was getting
outside of it.
“They should be showering you with flower petals,” Keaston said.
“I’m glad they aren’t. I may be a princess, but I want to be known as a
champion of the people.”
“Well, like my father, they don’t know why you’re here.”
“You mean, they don’t know whose side I’m on.”
“Yeah. I guess that’s more accurate.”
“And what do you think, Keaston?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think I’m in a position to say. It doesn’t matter to
me.”
 “It matters to me what you think,” Saylor said. “The king, my father, is
not here. And neither is the queen. It’s just you and me, Keaston.”
He let out a deep breath. “I don’t think there are sides. People are afraid
to say anything ill about the king, yet no one is afraid to denounce the
queen, thinking she is cursed and caused darkness to fall upon Lethos and
much of Edenisia.”
“Do you think I’m more like my father or my mother?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“Have you been surrounded by so much distrust that you can’t discern for
yourself those who are honest and those who aren’t?”
“We just met. What do you think of me, Saylor? Do you trust me?”
“I haven’t made my mind up about you. I’ve been told not to.”
“Harsh. I suppose that comes from Alana.”
“Alana has never said a negative word against you.”
Keaston shook his head, disbelievingly. “I’m doubting that.”
“Why? Should she have reason to?”
Keaston sighed. “More truth you’re pulling from me. Yes. I was cruel to
her years ago. I don’t know why. I think I was too caught up in what some
of the girls thought about her, you know, because they thought her to be of
lesser standing than they were. I’m not like that anymore.”
“And yet you didn’t invite her to the ball. You said it was an oversight. I
think it was on purpose.”
He didn’t deny it.
“My brother wanted to ask her,” he blurted. Then grimaced as if he
shouldn’t have said anything.
“Why didn’t he?”
“For starters, she wasn’t around. So he asked someone else.”
“But that’s not all. Is it?”
“There are girls some people think are more suitable for a Lord Regent’s
son.”
“Who are these people? Your parents?”
 He sighed. “No, but they do get caught up in it. Forget sometimes where
we came from. My father is a good man. But he’s also aware of how fickle
the people, especially the nobility, can be when it comes to matters of
bloodlines.”
“You’re referring to Alana’s lineage, or lack thereof?”
“Yeah. I felt bad about what happened between us when we were little. I
should’ve been a better friend and said something when the other boys and
girls treated Alana so unfairly. Why should blood determine someone’s
worth or value?”
“Apparently, those are the rules around here. Look at you. You are here
on a date with me rather than the girl you’d rather be with. Only because
I’m a princess and she’s not. That doesn’t make you any better than those
fickle nobles.”
The whole conversation was making her mad. He was suddenly upset as
well. The words had struck a nerve with him.
“That’s not fair! My father forced me to ask you,” he said angrily.
“So you don’t want to be with me?”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying that you don’t know me.”
“I know of your kind.”
“I’m not who you think I am. As the son of the Lord Regent, people think
I’m practically royal. A high-born noble.”
“And you’re not?”
“Our position is not one of nobility. We don’t own land. Have no real
wealth. We are a military family. Protectorates of the people. A few
generations ago, my family were peasants. Then one of my ancestors
achieved success in the military. He received fame and fortune. His sons
followed in his footsteps. One of their sons married the daughter of a
powerful duke across the sea. And eventually, the king before your father
made my grandfather the Lord Regent of the Southlands, the lands near the
sea and the islands nearby.”
Saylor suddenly remembered something. The book her mother had given
her.
 “That sounds a little like the story of Markul and Marella, except in the
story it was a princess the son married.”
“I know the tale. Though the one you heard probably had a mother
stealing another’s child.”
Saylor couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “That is what
I heard.”
“My mother told me that the son’s mother gave him willingly to the
woman whose child died. He was never stolen. The son’s real mother, it
seems, came from a poor family because her husband was a drunk and very
lazy. She wanted a better life for her child.”
“That does change the story a bit.”
“In truth, it doesn’t matter which is the original version. It’s just a story.
But the theme of the tale is the same. Someone of zero noble blood rose to
be someone of great importance due to his own merit and value and
efforts.”
Keaston adjusted his feet again and tried to loosen his collar. “One day,
I’ll be Lord Regent. My prior peasant lineage won’t matter. Every boy I’ve
ever known wants to be my friend, and every girl I’ve ever seen wants to
have my hand.”
“What do they want with your hand?” she said, confused.
He looked at her, trying to see if she was serious. “Hand in marriage.”
“Oh. Right. I knew that.” Her face turned red and she shuddered. “Yuck.”
He raised his brow.
Saylor laughed. “I mean, what girl wouldn’t want to have your hand? I
bet every princess on the planet is anxiously waiting for you to get down on
one knee.”
He chuckled. “Ok. I get it. My vanity got the best of me. Though I was
already humbled. Because not every princess is waiting for my hand. And
I’m not referring to you.”
“Who then?”
He sighed deeply. “About a year ago, my father and I went to Lethos to
meet with the king. Father was doing his yearly pilgrimage to renew his
oaths and swear fealty to King Greystone. It was my first time going to the
palace. I met your older sister there.”
“You saw Princess Sawmta?”
“I think so. Although she barely gave me two looks.”
“How was she? What was she like? Was she beautiful?”
Keaston chuckled. “I’m not sure it was her. I only think it was. She
definitely wasn’t a servant. I was walking the corridors, looking at all the
art, when I nearly ran into this girl dressed in all black and wearing a black
cloak with the hood up.”
“So you don’t know that it was her?”
“I mean, who wears a hood inside when there’s no sun or rain to keep
off? Anyway, a few strands of her bright curly red hair poked outside the
hood to frame a very pale face. I apologized for almost running into her. I
swear she seethed at me. It sounded like a hiss. The brief moment our eyes
made contact made my insides churn.”
“That’s strange.”
“I’ll admit, she scared me. I didn’t even tell my father about her. Come to
think of it, I haven’t told anyone until just now. I practically ran from that
hallway.”
“It seems no one knows anything about my sister. From the sounds of it,
she might not be good and decent.”
“You’re nothing like her from what I can tell.”
“Really?” Suppressing a devious smile, Saylor grew serious.
“Between Princess Sawmta and me,” Saylor said, “and this is important,
because you’re one of the only two people I know who has seen her. If you
had to choose, who’s prettier?”
Keaston’s mouth gaped open. He laughed nervously. “Stop it, Saylor.
Don’t ask me that.”
“I’m serious.”
“That’s a silly question.”
“I’m not being silly. Your princess demands an answer.”
“Like I said, I didn’t get a good look at her. We left the next day. My
father returned home by land. He sent me on a ship to take the long way,
wanting me to learn a little of life at sea. While sailing around the southern
tip of Edenisia, we encountered a storm that tore the ship apart. All aboard
died but me.”
“Oh my goodness. That’s horrible. How did you survive? How long were
you at sea?”
“That’s the thing that really hit deep. It’s one thing to survive by being
the strongest swimmer or having the best fortune. That wasn’t the case. The
captain and the crew made sure I had the largest piece of wreckage to cling
to. I survived because they all gave their lives for mine.”
He paused to stare at the floor. “When something like that happens, it
really makes you think about the true value and worth of a man, and it made
me want to be deserving of that devotion. It’s a humbling experience,
Saylor. Though, since you’re a princess, I’m sure you understand that far
too well.”
Saylor nodded and eased back in her seat, thinking of Alana and her
father and the sacrifice they were making for her. That even Keaston had
made for her.
“Now I must speak with Avalon,” said Saylor, softly.
He sighed. “She’ll be the girl in the red dress glaring at me.”
“Leave that to me,” said Saylor, patting his arm. “I’ll take care of it.”
The carriage turned from the main road onto the long road leading to the
Lord Regent’s estate. Wishing to look at something other than the carriage
floor, Saylor leaned forward, staring out the window at the trees lining the
avenue, marveling at the purity of the white flowers. Some of them had
broken from their branches to drift in the breeze and intermingle with the
red flowers from another tree, dancing together in a beautiful spiral in the
wind.
She grabbed Keaston’s arm and let out a squeal.
“What is it?” he asked, alarmed, and looking around for a threat.
Saylor gazed at him intently.
“I can’t believe I’m going to a ball. I have a confession to make as well.
I’ve never been to a royal ball before.”
 He grinned widely. “You’re going to have fun tonight. I know it. Or
maybe I’ll have fun watching you interact with all the boys and girls and
the men and women.”
She grabbed his hand.
“Thank you for asking me to the ball. There’s so much I don’t know. So
answer me this. And be honest, Keaston. Tell me truly.” She sighed, as if
gaining her courage.
He groaned softly, as if knowing what was coming. “What?”
“Is Avalon prettier than me?”
His cheeks turned as red as the dress Saylor imagined Avalon to be
wearing.

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 15
Crashing The Ball

The carriage came to a stop and Lord Keaston jumped out to help Saylor
down. She placed her hand in his waiting one, allowing him to assist her
from the carriage and onto the smooth polished stone surface leading to the
steps of the manor.
Once her feet were safely on the ground, Saylor took a deep breath and
waited a moment to take in her surroundings. A wide marble staircase
narrowed toward the top and led to the massive front doors of the palatial
estate.
She’d never seen a house so big. A hundred of her little cabins would fit
on the main floor.
Lord Keaston offered his arm, and she slipped her hand under his
proffered elbow. He adjusted his arm, making it easier for her to hold onto
and provided a sense of security. Her legs were still wobbly balancing on
the elevated heels of her shoes that she still wasn’t used to.
His deep blue eyes gazed down at her, waiting for her cue to let him
know she was ready to begin walking. The second carriage waited off in the
distance containing Alana, the envoy, and the wolfman. Apparently
following some unwritten protocol that the princess must enter the manor
first.
The wolfman wouldn’t be allowed in since he didn’t have an invitation,
but he insisted on accompanying Alana at least to the manor. He’d wait
outside by the carriage and watch for any threats.
It all seemed so foolish to Saylor. Why couldn’t Alana come be by her
side? Why did she have to wait in the carriage? She’d feel a lot more
comfortable with Alana on one side and Lord Keaston on the other. She still
didn’t understand the formality. The specific protocol or their purpose.
 Lord Keaston began walking them toward the steps, keeping his stride
short, allowing her shorter legs and lengthy gown to keep pace with him. As
they climbed the steps, his body stiffened.
More protocols. A group of servants lined the steps. Keaston kept his
eyes straight ahead. Fixed on the entrance. Like a moving statue. Not daring
to make eye contact with them for whatever reason.
If she was supposed to follow the same protocol, then she’d already
messed up. She glanced from side to side, acknowledging them with a thin
smile and a meek wave. The servants curtseyed and bowed as she and
Keaston passed by. It might have been inappropriate for her to acknowledge
them, but she didn’t care.
When they were about halfway up the stairs, Saylor leaned toward him
and whispered, feeling the need to keep her voice unheard. “I don’t know
what to do. What can I expect inside Keaston? More of the same?”
“You really have no experience with courts and palace assemblies?” he
asked.
“None whatsoever.”
“Smile and look beautiful.”
A smile was already on her lips when she spotted a young serving girl.
Much younger than Saylor. Curtseying awkwardly. Another girl in line next
to her was older. More experienced. She bowed expertly. An older woman
next to her was even more proficient at the protocols. None of them were
supposed to look her in the eye. That much was clear.
It seemed strange to Saylor that older girls and grown women were
bowing before her. She might not ever get used to it.
They climbed a few more steps before Saylor spoke again. “I grew up in
a small cabin in a desolate forest high in the mountains far from anywhere.
Do what you will with that information.”
She immediately regretted telling him. What if he told his father? She
still didn’t know if she could trust him. Keaston seemed nice, but it could
all be an act to gain her trust. He practically admitted that the only reason
she received an invitation was because his father wanted information.
Keaston nodded as if he wasn’t surprised by the revelation. Maybe he
was and had experience maintaining a stone-cold face. They climbed a few
more steps, nearly at the top now.
“Do you not want anyone to know that?” he asked, barely above a
whisper.
“Not really. But use your discernment, Keaston. I wanted you to know
what you had probably already figured out. I may be a princess, but no one
taught me how to act like one. I’m petrified I’m going to do something
wrong.”
“That’s the great thing about being a princess. You can’t do anything
wrong.”
“That’s what Alana said.”
“It’s true. Your servants are the ones who can wrong you. You can’t
wrong them.”
“I couldn’t disagree more. I’ve seen the starving people in the streets. I
think they’ve been very wronged by the ones in charge.”
They reached the landing at the top of the stairs. Keaston stopped.
“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
She didn’t know if she believed him. She’d keep her mouth shut for the
rest of the night. She’d already said too much. The wolfman would be
furious if he knew what she’d just revealed to the Lord Regent’s son.
“What are we waiting for?” she asked when they stood at the top of the
stairs much longer than seemed necessary.
Turning around abruptly was his answer. She awkwardly twirled in the
same direction. The envoy and Alana were coming up the stairs behind
them.
Good.
“Alana,” Saylor said, holding out her hand. “I’m so glad you can
accompany me inside.”
You have no idea how happy it makes me.
Alana smiled and curtsied, bowing her head, not taking the offered hand.
“You are a vision of grace, Your Majesty.”
This hardly seemed like the same girl who helped her get ready only a
few short hours ago. Saylor took the cue and changed her own demeanor.
To act more like a princess should act. At least, to the extent she could
envision it.
“As are you,” Saylor said, in a distinguished but warm voice. She might
be able to match the pretension, but she refused to be arrogant and
unfriendly.
Alana remained bowed in what looked to be a most uncomfortable
position.
“Please, Alana, you may rise.”
Alana bowed lower before standing upright. Saylor caught Alana
glancing briefly at Keaston before she began fussing over Saylor’s gown,
fluffing it, smoothing out any folded fabric caused from sitting in the
carriage.
Once satisfied, Alana lowered her eyes and backed away, taking a
position several paces behind Saylor. It seemed so strange considering that
earlier that afternoon, they’d been getting ready like a couple of silly
schoolgirls. Seemingly equal in every way.
Keaston tugged on her arm signifying they needed to turn back toward
the house. Two doormen dressed in deep burgundy waistcoats stood on
either side of the large entryway and opened the double doors.
Before entering, Saylor said, “Keaston, you didn’t really answer my
question. What do I do?”
“It’s not complicated, Your Highness. People wish to see you. And so
they will.”
Alana and the envoy took up a position behind Saylor or she would’ve
asked Alana the same question. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her
ears were ringing from the nervousness pulsating through her entire body.
Lord Keaston led Saylor inside, escorting her straight ahead into the
foyer. A large winding marble staircase was on either side of the foyer,
leading to a second floor. Saylor paused just inside the doorway and gazed
upward at the huge chandelier dominating and illuminating the entire room.
Keaston must’ve felt her gentle resistance on his arm because he held up
beside her, stopping smoothly as if the slight delay had been planned.
She could only stare. She studied the vast atrium, the cavernous ceiling
seemingly too high for the light to reach and yet it did. A long carpet of the
deepest purple ran from the door down an aisle to her right. In the direction
of what appeared to be a large ballroom. Between her and the room, were
nearly a hundred onlookers composed of men and women and boys and
girls of all ages, dressed in the finest dresses and suits. Lined on each side
of the carpet.
All presumably waiting for her arrival. If she could, she’d turn and bolt
out the door and run as far away from them as she could.
Her palms were sweating even though it was cool inside the house.
Before she realized it, they were moving again. Toward the waiting throng
of admirers. Keaston stopped at the beginning of the lines, as if to allow
everyone the time to look her over.
The entire gallery of people gasped at once.
“Don’t forget to smile,” Keaston whispered. His gaze was fixed straight
ahead, but he must’ve known her face looked like a doe frozen by a twig
snapping.
Saylor smiled dutifully.
“Why is this part of the room so dark?” she asked.
“So your glow can brighten it.”
Keaston led them forward. Saying the names of the men and women
lining the pathway. She listened as best she could, knowing she’d never
remember them all.
The people bowed and curtsied, many smiling with their lips only. Saylor
gleaned much from the furtive glances of the men and women who looked
at her before looking around to see who noticed them looking favorably
upon the daughter of the queen.
She was as mesmerized by what they were wearing as she was by the
people. The vivid colors and ornate stylings of the dresses the ladies wore,
many matching the colors of the suits of the men accompanying them, were
beyond extravagant.
Saylor couldn’t help but think that all the dresses in the room would feed
a street full of beggars for a season.
Then she remembered.
 She began tuning out Keaston, searching for one particular color. Shortly,
she spotted a girl, or rather, a young woman in bright red. Their eyes met
briefly before the young woman curtsied, lowering her eyes.
When she bowed her head, a few strands of her wavy silvery tresses
dropped in front of her shoulders left bare by a strapless red and silver
embroidered dress that attached to a circlet around her neck. It poured
downward over her torso and followed her thin form beyond her waist and
flared out several palm widths above her knees into many ruffles and layers.
“Is that her?” Saylor asked, quietly.
After he introduced someone else, Keaston said, “Who are you talking
about, Your Highness?”
“The girl you are refusing to look at,” Saylor said.
In reply, he walked straight toward them and said, “Duke and Duchess
Llewton and Karmine Daewud, accompanied by their daughter—”
“Avalon,” Saylor said.
Saylor unlatched from Keaston’s arm and took two steps toward the girl
whose head remained bowed. She curtseyed more deeply when Saylor
neared.
Saylor reached out her hand and raised the girl’s chin so she could see her
eyes. Even though the girl continued to look away.
“I am honored you know me, Your Majesty,” Avalon said. Her voice
shook as she said it.
Grinning brightly, Saylor took both of Avalon’s hands in hers and
squeezed them gently. Raising her to a standing position.
“Avalon, you are a vision of grace and beauty beyond compare. Keaston
was right. You are the prettiest girl in all Edenisia.”
Avalon blushed, her lips barely creasing. “Except for yourself, of course,
Your Majesty.”
“Keaston said you weren’t taken with the petulant vanities of girls,”
Saylor said, conscious of the many eyes watching the exchange. “He’s told
me all about you, Avalon.”
Avalon dipped her chin in deference. “My hope is that he was most kind
and had sufficient time to tell you all about me, Your Majesty.”
 Saylor laughed. “You are right. He did not mention your keen wit, but I
can see it for myself.”
Avalon’s lips curled into a slightly larger grin, her blue eyes squinting
slightly to match her mirth.
Saylor pulled Avalon’s hand close, hugging it. “I must thank you for your
incredible demureness to allow Lord Keaston to escort me here tonight.
Considering I am an outsider to Balladin, I’d be lost without his guidance.
You have been ever so gracious.”
Avalon curtsied and bowed again. “You do me honor, Your Majesty. For
if I am to be replaced, may it be by a princess.”
“Oh no, Avalon. Not even the queen herself could replace one such as
you.”
Some of the people nearest who heard the words inhaled with surprise.
Others gasped and whispered. Saylor grinned at Avalon, though the grin
was for her own amusement at the people’s response to her mentioning the
queen.
Saylor returned Avalon’s hand and stood again by Keaston. He was
clearly uncomfortable and led them away from his source of angst, reciting
the names of the people they passed.
When she was sure they were far enough away, Saylor leaned in and said,
“I absolutely adore her. She’s wonderful.”
“I’m not sure that really helped me.”
“Who said I was helping you?” Saylor said, smirking.
Keaston shook his head and rattled off several more names. They reached
the end of the aisle and Keaston slowed to a stop. A tall man with dark hair
and hazel eyes peered out through squinted eyelids. He stood wearing a
smile that didn’t seem to fit his features. Had he been scowling Saylor
would have been more at ease.
She knew immediately who he was. Even before Keaston said anything.
“Princess Saylor,” Keaston said, “I’d like to introduce you to my father,
Lord Regent Kalston Drayke, and my mother, Lady Karuna Drayke.”
Kalston knelt and Karuna curtsied low.
 “Your Royal Highness,” Kalston said, “we are honored by your presence.
Welcome to Balladin.”
“Please, Your Lordship, rise. I’ve had enough of pleasantries for one day.
A sentiment I’m certain is shared by your guests. They must be thirsty.”
Kalston stood and helped Karuna upright. He smiled broadly although
Saylor could see the distrust in his eyes. The guile. The pretense.
“You are quite right, Your Highness,” he said, forcing a jovial tone. He
raised his voice and spoke to the crowd. “Her majesty wishes for the
festivities to commence. Please. Enjoy yourselves.”
The murmurs and whispers began but soon faded as the people filed past
them and into the ballroom in search of the refreshments.
Kalston glanced at his wife. She bowed her head and dismissed herself,
saying she needed to see to the guests. As if on cue, Keaston took her arm
and led her into the ballroom. Alana was nowhere to be seen. Saylor was
alone with the regent and feeling extremely uncomfortable. Once gone,
Kalston fidgeted, his lips going from smile to frown and then back again.
Saylor was not supposed to notice, but she did. He was nervous as well.
“What’s on your mind, Lord Drayke?” Saylor said, deciding to get right
to the point. If nothing else, catching him off guard.
Kalston chuckled nervously. “Many things, Your Highness. How have
you found our city?” That’s certainly not what was on his mind.
“Balladin is lovely. I’ve quite enjoyed it.”
“Had we known earlier, we could’ve found you more suitable lodging.
I’m sufficiently prepared to guard the Southlands against foreign invaders.
But I must admit, we were unprepared to host a royal.”
“You needn’t trouble yourself over me. My lodgings are more than
sufficient and bursting with companionship I would not trade for the
palatial estate of Emperor Midius.”
“Of course. And I’m sure your father will be most pleased to learn you
are content.”
“Ah,” Saylor said, examining the room behind him, watching in
amazement as the servants lit lamps and candelabras and raised them,
filling the ballroom with light.
 “The king,” she said. “You needn’t worry that I’ll give a negative report,
Your Lordship. I doubt he’s concerned with my lodging requirements. He
cares more about his subjects and whether or not they are fed. Considering
you have sustained sunlight here it would seem your blessings should
abound.”
She had no idea what the king might be thinking. Since they had never
met. A fact the Lord Regent didn’t know. Or at least Saylor presumed he
was in the dark about it.
“We take great care of the poor and the widows,” Kalston said. “You’ll
not see any starving in the lands in my domain. We are simply fortunate that
the queen … well, that the darkness has not yet encroached upon us.”
He was clearly testing her to see if she might be offended. Meaning, did
she have any empathy for the queen? The best thing to do was to play
along.
“You’re referring to the curse of the queen,” Saylor said, speaking as if
pondering a great mystery. “The Brightness Queen who once healed the
sick and fed the hungry has now brought disease and famine on the land.”
Relief washed over his face.
Saylor nodded. “Hmm. I see. The Queen of Light brought the darkness.”
Kalston cleared his throat, removing the lump that had probably been
building through the day. “Yes. Well. I’m certain I know nothing relating to
the truth of things. I’m so very far away from Lethos. Rumors and whispers
travel with greater speed and power than the truth.”
“And they also bind those who hear it, trapping them in a fog.”
“Is that your business here, Your Highness, to dispel the fog?”
How was she supposed to answer that question?

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 16
Introductions

Lord Regent had asked Saylor a probing question. Rather than answer it
directly, she chose to evade the question altogether.
“My business here, Lord Drayke, has only to do with the business of
merrymaking. And to that matter, I must take my leave of you. Alana has
been dying for me to meet her friends.”
“Certainly, Your Highness. Is Miss Silver your lady in waiting?” he
asked.
Saylor nodded. “And she’s my dearest friend.”
“A wise decision, Your Majesty.”
“Must my decisions meet with your approval, Lord Drayke?”
She was doing her own testing. To see if she could unnerve him. To find
out how much power she really had. It’s one thing to make the Lord
Regent’s son squirm. Quite another to make the Regent himself become
unhitched from his pre-planned agenda.
He seemed confused and squinted at her, telling her the question had hit
the mark. “No. What? Of course not. That’s not what I meant at all.”
Keaston had returned and was now by her side. He had heard the
exchange, because he said, “What my father means, Your Highness, is that
he has great respect for Alana’s father.”
I doubt that.
“Ah, I see,” Saylor said. “Thank you, Keaston. The wolfman is quite a
remarkable man.”
For the first time, Kalston chuckled with what seemed to be genuineness.
“That name suits him better than his real one. He does appear to be part
wolf. Please, Your Highness, don’t let me detain you any longer.”
The Lord Regent bowed and left her alone with Keaston.
 Alana appeared suddenly through the doorway, before either of them
could say anything. She had probably been watching in the wings, aware of
her place. Interrupting the Lord Regent’s private conversation with the
princess would’ve been a major indiscretion.
Alana slipped her arm inside Saylor’s and led her away, trying to avoid
eye contact with Keaston.
“I’ll see you at the dance hall, Your Highness,” Keaston said. “It’s good
to see you too, Miss Silver. I hope to talk to you later.”
Alana turned her face away. Ignoring him altogether. “Come on, Your
Highness,” Alana said, pulling Saylor back toward the door from which she
had come.
As Alana ushered Saylor along, she told her excitedly about all the girls
they were about to meet. Saylor glanced over her shoulder. Keaston was
standing next to his father on the other side of the room. His father was
talking to him with a serious look on his face, but Keaston didn’t appear to
be listening. More intent on watching her leave.
He nodded and smiled.
Saylor faced forward. “You were right, Alana. Keaston is handsome. And
charming.”
“I never said he was handsome or charming. I said he was dashing.”
“I told him you said he was handsome.” Which was how Saylor
remembered the conversation.
Alana’s eyes widened. “You did not. Saylor, I mean … Your Majesty.”
Saylor giggled.
“You must tell me everything you talked about,” Alana said. “But not
right now. Come.”
They left the atrium and headed down the hallway, passing people as they
walked. Saylor nodded in response to their bows and curtsies, hoping none
would stop and try to speak with her.
They turned a corner and almost ran into a group of three girls the same
age as them that stood outside a large room, listening to the beautiful
orchestral music pouring out.
 “Feidran! Feidran Amiset,” Alana said joyously, practically squealing the
girl’s name.
A girl with black hair wearing a yellow and blue dress, the skirted portion
similar to that of a bell, was clearly excited to see Alana. Her face broke
into a smile. The other two girls also turned to see who had called out.
When they saw Alana, they grinned and rushed toward her to give her hugs
and kisses on her cheek.
When they saw Saylor, they stopped in their tracks and bowed dutifully.
When Saylor gave them the go ahead to stand upright, they began to
bombard Alana with effusive words and hugs.
“I have missed you so much, Alana,” Feidran said, clutching both of
Alana’s hands.
“I know. It’s been so long.”
“Don’t you ever stay away for so long again.”
“I’ll try not to. I’m back for a bit, and I’ve brought a friend.”
Alana slipped her arm through Saylor’s.
The girls bowed their heads a second time and curtsied, each mumbling
Your Highness at some point.
“Please,” Saylor said, “don’t fuss on my account. Alana is my friend,
which means all of you are as well.”
The girls forced smiles while looking at one another for guidance. While
Saylor didn’t know how to act around them, they certainly didn’t know how
to act around her. Saylor wished they could all just act normally.
“Feidran, that dress is absolutely divine,” Saylor said, doing her best to
make them feel comfortable. “You look angelic and wonderful and bright. I
love it. Where did you get it?”
Feidran’s face lit up as bright as her dress. “You flatter me, Your
Highness. I had it tailored, the fabric shipped in from Findleland across the
sea.”
“And who are your lovely companions?” Saylor asked.
Alana stepped forward, pointing to a girl wearing silver and black, her
hair a darker shade than Feidran’s. “This is Sharlyn Vayne.”
Sharlyn curtsied and rose. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.”
 “Likewise.”
“And this is her sister Katryn Vayne,” Alana said, indicating a girl
wearing gold and black, her hair the same color as her sister’s.
She curtsied and rose quickly, her motion not as fluid. “Your Highness,”
she said.
Saylor felt bad for them. They had curtseyed three times now. It seemed
like once should be enough.
“It’s great to finally meet the girls Alana has spoken so much about. Isn’t
there another friend?”
Feidran laughed and nodded. “You’re probably talking about Miss
Barstok,” she said, uttering the name with grand elocution, flourishing her
hand as she spoke. “The wondrous Amalias is being escorted by Lord
Krayston.”
“And she is not our friend,” Sharlyn said.
The sisters giggled and clutched each other’s arms.
Alana wasn’t amused. Her cheerful demeanor suddenly turned dour.
“I should have guessed,” Alana said, shaking her head. “And how is
Krayston dealing with it? Is he enjoying himself?”
The words reeked with sarcasm. The meaning clear. Alana still didn’t like
Krayston at all. Or maybe his date was the one she didn’t like. Perhaps
both.
“He’ll be along shortly, I expect. You can see for yourself,” Sharlyn said.
“But I haven’t seen him smile yet.”
The girls laughed.
Saylor grinned, her eyes soft as she watched Alana interact with the girls.
They began talking back and forth, filling Alana in on all the gossip she’d
missed, though Alana called it news and unsubstantiated rumors.
Alana couldn’t stop grinning, even when learning of news that seemed
scandalous. As happy as it made Saylor to see Alana with her friends, she
was also a little sad. Due to Alana’s devotion to the princess and insistence
on being her lady in waiting, she’d likely be drawn away from them when
Saylor had to leave Balladin.
 She knew she must leave. She just didn’t know when. Probably in the
middle of the night. Fleeing for their lives. With the real possibility of never
being able to return to Balladin again.
Lost in these thoughts, she became aware that the four girls were staring
expectantly at her.
“I’m sorry,” Saylor said. They must’ve asked her a question while she
was deep in thought.
“What was the question again?” she asked.
“Lord Keaston,” Feidran said, “was he his normal self or was he a perfect
gentleman?”
The girls giggled in unison. Saylor deduced that the girls didn’t think
much of Keaston either, although any one of them would probably die to be
his date.
“The former and the latter,” Saylor said. The girls didn’t understand it.
Saylor cleared her throat. “He was delightful. Although he thinks Alana
hates him.”
“Alana doesn’t hate him,” Feidran said. “She’s in love with him.”
Alana’s eyes widened with horror. Through clenched teeth she said,
“Feidran!”
“Oh feathers! I mean …” Feidran’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. It’s
supposed to be a secret.”
“I thought it was Krayston you hated, Alana,” Sharlyn said, looking at
her sister for support.
Katryn shrugged then shook her head. “No silly. Keep up. Alana likes
Keaston, but he likes Avalon. Krayston likes Alana, but she can’t stand
him.”
“And Krayston got stuck with Alana’s mortal enemy as his date tonight!”
Feidran said, as she lifted her chin and rose onto her toes, dropping her
arms tight to her sides and flapping her hands up and down, like a fairy.
“Miss Amalias Barstok, the queen of drama.”
The girls laughed. Alana, unable to stay mad at her friend, broke into a
smile. “You’re right. It is silly. After all, we’re only children. None of us are
old enough to be in love anyway. It’s just juvenile infatuations.”
 “Speaking of juvenile infatuations, I heard Avalon is furious about being
jilted,” Sharlyn said.
Feidran scowled at Sharlyn who glanced at her sister for support.
“What?”
Feidran glanced toward Saylor. Her gesture was supposed to go
unnoticed, but Saylor saw it.
“It’s okay,” Saylor said. “I am his date for the night, but I can assure you
that I have no designs on Keaston. Avalon has nothing to worry about from
me.”
That comment didn’t seem to make Alana happy, but she bit her tongue
and turned away.
“I don’t know what Keaston sees in Avalon,” Feidran said.
Alana pressed her lips tight together, forcing a grin. “I understand. It’s
fine. I don’t even care. If he doesn’t like me, then I won’t like him.”
Even though Saylor knew she did.
Saylor shook her head. “I think Keaston is still a boy despite looking like
a young man. He’s too young to know what he wants in life, let alone know
who he should pursue.”
Sharlyn said, “You are right again, Your Highness. We get carried away
because sometimes there’s nothing of interest to talk about. Except boys.”
The girls all huddled together and giggled.
“There’s got to be something else interesting to talk about besides boys
and who they like,” Saylor said.
Having been stuck in the mountains all these years, Saylor had zero
experience with boys and found it all fascinating. She didn’t really want to
change the subject but thought it best. She could tell it was hurting Alana.
Talking about Keaston and Avalon. Krayston and Amalias.
She was anxious to meet Krayston to see what was wrong with him. If he
was in love with Alana, then maybe Alana would have a better chance with
him.
The girls looked from one to the next, trying to think of something.
“If you don’t find boys interesting, Your Highness,” Katryn said, “What
do you find of interest?”
 “I find them interesting,” Saylor said, “But there are many other things
that I like to think about. Like wondrous and exotic animals, poetic
literature, history, fashion, places, and peoples in foreign lands, where
allegiances lie, the people of this kingdom and whether they have enough to
eat or whether they spend all day worrying about their next meal leaving
them no time to create or play or even to dream.”
The girls looked awkwardly at one another, unsure how to react.
“And after those things,” said Saylor, sighing, “perhaps the most
important thing I’m interested in, and I hope you don’t think this daft of me,
is which boy is in love with Feidran Amiset.”
The girls’ eyes widened. Then they smiled and laughed, staring at
Feidran. Feidran’s face flushed.
“What?” she said, her voice nearly frantic. “No one. No boys are
interested in me.”
She looked away, trying to hide a smile. The girls laughed at her reaction.
Sharlyn said, “But, Feidran, I thought someone asked you to the ball?”
“Oh, yes,” said Feidran nervously, “But he was just being kind.”
“You turned him down?” Saylor said.
“Not really, Your Majesty. My father did. He said that I’m not allowed to
be escorted to a gala by a boy for another ten years.” She glanced around,
not liking the attention, clearly looking to deflect it. “The same reason as
Sharylin’s father turned down Krayston.”
All eyes went wide. Though Feidran’s were the widest. “Why do people
keep telling me secrets? I can’t keep them. I really can’t?” she said in a
panic.
The girls laughed again. Sharlyn consoled Feidran, rubbing her arm. “It’s
not really a secret. For us, anyway. Maybe don’t tell Amalias.” A devious
look came into her eye. “Or maybe we should.”
“Do you think,” Katryn said, “that boys sit around and talk about us?”
“Oh heavens, no,” Sharlyn said. “Haven’t you ever listened to our
brothers and his stupid friends? All they talk about are knives and swords,
horses, horse races, sporting contests, who the best swordsman is and food.”
 “Oh. That’s right. And frogs and boogers. Like, all the time. Why do they
keep jamming their fingers in their noses and then show me their nasty…”
She shook her head, unable to speak the word again.
“I bet if we went down to the other ballroom,” Feidran said, “all the boys
would be wrestling each other.”
“They have to wrestle because they’re too scared to come over and talk to
us,” Sharlyn said. “Thank heavens we don’t have to actually dance with
them.”
“Which I’m guessing is irking Amalias,” Feidran said, “since she’ll have
to let go of Krayston’s arm to let him dance with one of us. Have you seen
them yet? She was holding him as if shackled to him.”
“I see them now,” Sharlyn said.
The girls turned to see a boy of thirteen dressed similar to Keaston but in
blue and black, with messy sandy blonde hair, escorting a girl wearing a
lavish dress of similar colors to his suit, her light brown hair curled and
styled atop her head, leaving only a few strands out to frame her pale
cheeks. The fingers of her hands intertwined with one another around his
elbow.
“Miss Silver,” the brown-haired girl said rudely, her voice airy and aloof,
chin raised, and only a thin smile on her lips. “I’m surprised to see you
here. I thought you weren’t invited.”
“Where are your manners?” Alana said. “Do you have no couth? You
walk into the presence of the princess and do not bow or curtsy? I am her
lady in waiting and I insist you remedy this situation immediately. I’m not
sure why the Lord Regent’s son would be with someone of such ill
manners.”
Krayston apologized first.
“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing, keeping his eyes on her as if trying not
to look anywhere else or at anyone else. “My name is Lord Krayston
Drayke. I am at your service. Should you or Alana, I mean, Miss Silver,
need anything, please ask.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Krayston,” Saylor said. “I thank you for
your family’s hospitality. And who, may I ask, do you have the pleasure of
escorting?”
 He bowed his head quickly again. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I present
Miss Amalias Barstok, daughter of Lord Alton and Lady Aira Barstok.”
Amalias’s face was still frozen in fear for the obviously unintentional
slight. She curtsied slightly, unwilling to release a hand on Krayston’s arm
to do so. “Your Majesty. I apologize. I did not see you there.”
“Amalias,” Saylor said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. It’s wonderful that you could grace Balladin
with your royal presence and that you found the means to leave the king to
do so.”
“It’s good to be out.”
Amalias said something shocking, totally out of the blue.
“It’s horrid to think the king kept you locked away from the world all
these years. Perhaps he believes you to be a threat to the land, just as the
queen was.”
So that’s the prevailing rumor.
Alana grimaced, scowling and pressing her lips together, clenching her
fists tight around the folds of her dress.
Krayston said, “Amalias!”
“You dare to offend the king and the princess in one breath,” Alana said.
Saylor laughed lightly as if Amalias had uttered a pleasant joke. “Oh
Amalias, there is no escaping the king once he has you in his clutches.
Unless, of course, you are a mighty sorceress with dark magic and are eager
to learn who is trustworthy and who is not.”
That should strike fear in her.
Amalias lost her composure for only a moment, her eyelids opening a
fraction wider than before. She recovered and grinned. “Then let us hope
none of us falls prey to treacherous and treasonous schemes. Come,
Krayston, let us check on the young children.”
She took a half step forward, pulling on Krayston’s arm. He held firm,
forcing Amalias to pretend to check on the folds of her dress.
“Again, Your Highness, if I can be of service, please ask,” Krayston said.
“It would be my honor.”
 “Of course. To that end, please check in often with my lady in waiting to
see if there is anything I might need, since I’ll be busy. She knows me very
well. .”
Alana glared at Saylor. As did Amalias.
If looks could kill, Saylor would be dead ten times over.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Krayston said.
“Oh, that reminds me. Um, Feidran,” Saylor said, tapping her chin with
her index finger. Feidran froze. “What was that bit of news you had
concerning Sharlyn?”
Feidran’s eyes went wide. Her face blanched. She began shaking her head
quickly. Vibrating it back and forth. Her jaw clamped shut.
“Ah, well,” said Saylor, throwing her hands up. “Perhaps it wasn’t
important. Anyway, Miss Barstok, it was a pleasure to meet you. The third
time's the charm, they say.”
“The third time for what, Your Majesty?”
The other girls snickered, suppressing their laughs with their hands.
Except Katryn. She seemed confused.
“Wait. Who was the…” An elbow from her sister silenced her.
“Perhaps I’ve misused the expression,” said Saylor. “I meant to imply
that you’re charming.”
Amalias grinned sheepishly. “Oh. Why, thank you, Your Majesty.” She
curtsied.
Krayston bowed to Saylor and nodded to three of the four girls, avoiding
glancing at Alana.
They watched them leave. Once they made the turn into the other
ballroom, Sharlyn and Katryn burst out laughing. Feidran exhaled, having
held her breath. Alana was fuming mad. Too angry to laugh.
“That poor boy,” Sharlyn said. “She will not let him go.”
“I’m sorry, Feidran. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”
Feidran fanned her face with her hand. “It’s fine, Your Highness,”
Feidran said. “You sure put her in her place.”
“Sister dear, let us go check on the young children as well,” Sharlyn said,
thrusting her chin high, imitating Amalias. The girls giggled.
 They curtseyed and backed away from Saylor, leaving her and Alana
alone.
Alana smiled but didn’t laugh. “Why did you do that? I don’t want
Krayston waiting on me. He’s … well, he’s …”
“If he spends time with you, that will really rile up Amalias. Don’t you
think?”
“Fine. But only for that reason will I speak to him.”
“That is reason enough.”
“Though I’m also as confused as Katryn. Who else did he ask?”
“Don’t look at me, Alana. All I heard is an unsubstantiated rumor. But
you wouldn’t be interested in that.”
“You are insufferable, sometimes. Your Highness!” The last words were
meant with sarcasm. “And you are right. I have no interest in who Krayston
wanted to ask. Why should I?” Though she didn’t say it with much
conviction.
“Good, then.” Saylor put her arm in Alana’s and prepared to enter the
ballroom. “We can now discuss more important things.”
“Like what?” Alana asked.
“Like what’s a dance card?”

OceanofPDF.com
 17
Dancing, Accusations, and Danger

Saylor had pretended to know what a dance card was when Lord Keaston
mentioned it. With the music in the ballroom playing and the people
dancing, Saylor finally had a moment alone to ask Alana.
“A dance card lists the specific dances to be performed by the
musicians,” Alana said. “Next to the songs are blank lines.”
“What are those for?”
“They are to be filled in by the names of the gentlemen who intend to
dance with you.”
“So I don’t get a say who I dance with?”
“No. You don’t. The men choose.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“That’s how it works.”
“What if no one wants to dance with me?”
Alana chuckled. “You’re the guest of honor and the princess. Escorted by
Keaston. Every man in the room will want to dance with you.”
“Well, I don’t want to dance with all of them! I only want to dance with
someone I know.”
“You won’t have to dance with everyone. There are only so many lines
on the card. Besides, only a few can actually afford it.”
“Maybe I just won’t dance at all. I’m the princess. You said I can do
whatever I want.”
“You should make yourself available to your adoring suitors, Your
Highness, to at least a few.”
“I’d rather be chased by a pack of wolves.”
 Alana laughed. “It may feel like that at times, Your Highness. Come on.
It’ll be fun. I’m sure the men are already dueling with each other to be one
of the chosen few to get to dance with you.”
Alana slipped her hand inside Saylor’s arm, pulling her toward the
ballroom entrance. “Look there.”
A large group of men had gathered around one particular lady.
“The men are trying to get their name on a card that belongs to that
woman.”
“I can see why. She’s pretty.”
“And rich. And available.”
“I’m none of those things.”
“You are beautiful, Your Highness. They all assume you are rich and
available.”
“Well I’m not.”
“There are only so many open spaces and only so many songs. The men
can’t simply write their names on your card on their own.”
Alana pointed at a table with a lot of hustle and bustle around it.
“That’s where the dance cards are kept. The cards on that table are
guarded fiercely by the captain of the cards. To put their name down, the
men must bid on a space and pay for the privilege.”
“How much do men bid for the women?”
“It depends on the person. Some bids will be higher than others. The men
use the dance as a chance to promote themselves or their sons or their
agenda. It can be very political and useful. You might want to strategically
use the opportunity to gather your own information.”
Saylor nodded and sighed. “So it’s more than just dancing. It’s
posturing.”
“And positioning,” said Alana. “You can do this. You need to do this. To
find your allies.”
“I wouldn’t even begin to know what to ask. I don’t know any of these
men or boys.”
Alana grinned. “Let them talk. Dance with your smile wide and your ears
open. And if you ever are at a loss for words, talk about subjects that seem
to appeal to boys of all ages.”
“Such as?”
“Swords, boogers, and frogs.”
They both laughed, easing the tension Saylor felt in her shoulders,
somewhat.
Earlier, the conversation between Alana and her friends had veered off
into joking about what they thought the boys were talking about. Frogs,
boogers, and cow poop were mentioned along with a number of
unmentionable things. Considering where they were and how they were
dressed, it's a good thing the adults didn’t know what they were giggling
about.
“Like one of those three boys, perhaps?” Saylor said. Three young men
dressed in attire resembling military officers surrounded Avalon and were
conversing with her.
Alana shook her head. “Probably not. They won’t have the funds to
compete for a dance with her.”
One of the three men said something. Avalon laughed and leaned back
from the man, not making eye contact with him. He laughed at his own joke
and glanced at his companions, looking for their support.
“Ugh,” Alana said, glaring at the woman in red. “Just look at her.
Giggling and laughing and carrying on like a little schoolgirl. I’m sure his
joke wasn’t that funny.”
As hard as Alana had been trying to hide her jealousy of Avalon all
evening, she let it slip occasionally. Now she wasn’t even trying to hide it.
Saylor cocked her head sideways, studying Avalon and the exchanges
between her and the three fairly good-looking young men.
“She’s not laughing,” Saylor said, as if stating a revelation.
“She is so. Look.”
“She’s pretending. She hates this world. She’s adept at it, but she’s not
great. She doesn’t want to be good at it.”
“How so?”
“She suspects every available young man in this room is after her
because of her monetary assets. None of them seem to care about her other
assets, like her charm, charisma, and compassion.”
“Don’t tell me you feel sorry for her,” Alana said, frowning.
“I am her, Alana. I’ll never know for certain why a girl is trying to be my
friend or why a boy or young man is trying to dance with me.”
“Oh. I see. Because you’re the princess.” Alana nodded, smiling sadly. “It
seems you understand this world better than you think.”
“Motivations and ambitions are universal. Understand those, and you
understand the person.”
Someone behind the two girls cleared his throat.
“Is there any particular person you’re trying to understand, Your
Highness?” Keaston asked. He bowed to Saylor and nodded at Alana. “Miss
Silver, you are looking rather lovely this evening. That color suits you
well.”
Alana blushed and curtsied.
“Keaston,” Saylor said, “We were just discussing my dance card. I was
wondering if there were any names on it.”
Keaston grinned and waved his hand. “Don’t worry about all that, Your
Majesty. It will sort itself out. Even if there is, I was hoping to have the
honor of the first dance.”
“Is your name on my card?” she said jokingly. “Alana, go check.”
“Ah. About that.” Keaston extended his elbow toward her. She slipped
her hand once again inside his arm.
Alana had been faking a grin. It left her lips when Saylor touched
Keaston. Alana certainly noticed what Saylor felt. Her face lit up like a
night moon as soon as Keaston came around.
“Alas,” Keaston said. “My name is not on there. But you see, your escort
doesn’t need to be on the card. You must dance with me any time I request
it.”
“Hmm. If you insist.”
“As your escort, I also have the freedom to cut in at any time. So if you
are ever dancing with another gentleman and you’ve had enough of him,
simply give me the look and I’ll do my duty.”
 Saylor left Alana wearing a frown. She didn’t care and didn’t allow
herself to feel bad. Keaston was her escort. It wasn’t her fault. Alana can be
upset all she wants, but if Keaston wasn’t there with her, he’d be there with
Avalon. Alana would be at home stewing in her soup.
At least she got an invitation, thanks to Saylor. It's time she appreciated
it.
Alana told Saylor to enjoy the experience and make the most of it. Saylor
needed to remind her of the same thing. Go to her ballroom and let her
dance card get filled up. Starting with Krayston.
Keaston led Saylor into the ballroom and Saylor immediately forgot
about the tension between her and Alana. As they entered the dance floor,
the previous song ended, the minstrels letting the tune die out.
The people assembled saw Saylor and immediately bowed and curtsied.
She nodded back. The maestro tapped his baton and counted out a tempo.
The musicians began playing a lively tune.
Due to their height difference, Keaston held one of her hands in his and
placed his other on the side of her shoulder, instead of slipping a hand
around her waist as the older men did with their partners.
Keeping up as best she could, Saylor moved about the floor with
Keaston. He excelled at leading, making sure she didn’t run into anyone,
making her feel like a seasoned dancer.
When the song finished, she barely had time to catch her breath before
Duke Daewud stepped in to take Keaston’s place. Avalon’s father. He was a
spirited dancer. Able to flit her around the room while telling her all about
his enterprises and shipbuilding.
“Thank you for the kindness you showed to my daughter,” he said. “You
didn’t have to apologize to her, and yet you did. With the dignity of a
queen.”
Saylor was slightly out of breath and mumbled a thank you. Another song
started up, and he had her flying around the dance floor again.
The second song ended, and another boy took a turn. Someone near the
age of Keaston. Saylor guessed him to be from an affluent family to have
the money to bid and get his name on her card.
 When the song ended, Saylor glanced toward the entrance, hoping to see
Alana and wave at her. She was gone, hopefully off with her friends.
Perhaps even dancing with Krayston at that very moment.
Saylor looked around and didn’t see any potential suitors approaching
her, so she stepped off the floor and scanned the room. Looking for Avalon,
considering trying to speak with her again.
Avalon’s own father must have bid to dance with his daughter because he
stood in line waiting with her. Before Saylor could search out another
familiar face, another man stepped up to be her partner, an older man
shorter than the others, with a crooked nose who smiled but said nothing.
His breath stunk.
Closer in height, he was able to slip his hand around her waist as he
pulled her along the dance floor. Saylor forced a smile and scanned the
room, hoping to give Keaston the look. She couldn’t find him.
Thankfully, the song ended, and another gentleman stepped in, a portly
man with a bushy beard and a genuine mirth-filled laugh. He told silly jokes
and spoke of his favorite foods, making Saylor hungry.
One gentleman after the other whisked her around the ballroom. She kept
trying to get Keaston’s attention but couldn’t find him.
Do I get any of the bid money?
She had forgotten to ask. She supposed it went to the host. That didn’t
seem fair. She was doing all the work. Enduring all the men.
Not only that, but her legs hurt. It felt like she had walked ten miles in the
mountains. She’d never danced this much in her life.
When the next dance ended, she left the dance floor and looked for
Keaston. Hoping to get a break.
She saw him speaking with Avalon. A twinge of jealousy shot up inside
of her. Then a flash of anger.
Where did that come from?
She had told him to seek out Avalon and dance with her. Did she really
have a right to be mad when he did?
At the same time, Keaston had promised to cut in if she gave him the
look. No wonder she couldn’t find him. He was engrossed in talking to
Avalon. To the point he was ignoring her.
The anger accelerated when she saw Avalon lean in and kiss him on the
cheek before turning to hurry from the room.
Of all the nerve.
Who was she more mad at? Keaston or Avalon?
Both. Saylor didn’t know all the protocols, but she knew enough to know
that you didn’t kiss another girl’s date. Or allow a girl to kiss you when you
were escorting another lady.
The song ended. Another one began. No one wanted to dance with her, so
she stood alone in the middle of the room as many dancers twirled about
her.
Keaston leaned back against the wall, staring at the door Avalon had
walked out of. A dark cloud had descended upon him.
It was about to get darker. She decided to go over to him and give him a
piece of her mind.
Before she could, the people in the room began gasping. All eyes turned
toward the entrance. A soldier with an injured arm and leg limped into the
room.
“Lord Regent,” he said, his voice strong but raspy.
“What has happened?” Kalston said, rushing to the man’s side.
“The darkness is coming!”
The people began murmuring among themselves.
The Lord Regent yelled out, silencing the crowd. “Speak plainly,
soldier.”
“The king,” said the soldier. “He has moved against the city of Gada.”
“In the Westlands?”
The soldier nodded. “Their lord regent is dead. And now the king’s forces
are turned toward Balladin.”
“The princess has brought the curse upon us,” the man with the crooked
nose said, standing near the entrance and pointing a boney finger at Saylor.
Almost as one, every single eye in the ballroom trained itself on Saylor.
She stood resolute and faced their scrutiny, feeling more alone in the middle
of the crowd than she’d ever felt in her entire life.
 Before anyone else could join him in accusing her, glass windows
shattered out in the hallway. Screams rang out. A loud shriek echoed
through the halls, its high-pitched sound causing the crowd to cower and
cover their ears.
Saylor recognized the source.
“Vagars,” she said under her breath.
Many things happened at once. Soldiers sprinted out the door. Keaston
bolted from the ballroom, ignoring the calls from his father to stay. Kalston
and several soldiers surrounded Saylor, preventing her from leaving.
The man with the crooked nose fled the room as well.
A commotion behind her caused her to turn and look.
The wolfman was fighting with the soldiers. He got the better of them
and pushed his way through and was by her side in a flash.
“Stop!” Saylor said. “Let him pass. You will not harm him.”
Her commands had power because the soldiers stopped wrestling with
the wolfman at once. The wolfman asked if she was okay.
“Where is my daughter?”
“She’s in the other ballroom. The one with the kids.”
He nodded. She wasn’t surprised when he stayed with her rather than go
to protect his daughter. Having the wolfman next to her was comforting.
She’d rather have him than a dozen soldiers.
A blood curdling scream rang out.
A vagar shrieked just outside the corridor. A pair of scaley talons latched
on to the underside of the top of the door frame. A serpentine neck swung a
spiky head into the room. The red eyes of the vagar spotted Saylor.
Several soldiers rushed to the door, some with spears and others with
swords. They stabbed and swung at it. The vagar dropped to the floor,
dodging several attacks.
It crawled toward Saylor. Then sprung in the air bridging the gap between
the door and her before the scream left her throat.
The soldiers reacted immediately.
A spear pierced the vagar’s torso, forcing it to the side. It shrieked
angrily. A sword sliced its wing. The vagar swung its thorny tail, tripping a
few soldiers.
Other soldiers suddenly appeared in the doorway and closed in on it.
Before they could injure it further, it shrieked and fled the room.
Kalston ordered two soldiers to stand guard at the doorway. The fallen
soldiers picked themselves up, clearly embarrassed that they had allowed
the vagar to trip them in front of the Lord Regent and all his guests.
Saylor glanced around the room. The men and women huddled near the
walls. Some glared at her. Obviously believing the lie that she was
somehow behind her father’s aggression.
Several women in tears expressed concern for their children. Several men
heeded the cries of the fearful mothers and rushed out of the room
presumably headed for the children’s dance area. Some men stayed behind
to hold back the mothers to keep them from following.
“These creatures are after me, Lord Drayke,” Saylor said. “Allow me to
draw them outside and away from everyone here.”
“You’ll do no such thing, Your Majesty,” said Kalston. “What would the
king think of me if I allowed that?”
One of the sentries called out. “It’s headed to the other room. Toward the
children.”
Several of the mothers screamed.
“No!” Saylor cried out in horror and slipped out of the grip of the
wolfman, sprinting toward the entryway.
Kalston called out and the soldiers barred her exit.
Saylor turned and faced him. She shouted out, “Either let me go out there
alone or come with me. They are just children.”
Kalston thought for a moment. “That is an excellent idea, Your Highness.
The children will be frightened. It will put them at ease to see your light.”
The wolfman objected.
Kalston faced the crowd. “Remain here. We shall see to the children’s
safety first.”
He sought out one of his soldiers and said, “Captain, find the children and
take them to the keep. I must see if the breach has been closed.”
 Saylor followed them out of the ballroom and into the atrium. The
hallway was somehow darkened. Its lights extinguished.
A shriek emanated from the room where the children had been dancing.
Saylor immediately took off running toward the sound.
As she neared, a vagar shot out of the doorway and slammed into the
opposite wall, as if it had been thrown. A spear spit out from the darkness,
piercing the vagar’s wing to the wall. It shrieked and ripped its wing while
trying to escape.
A soldier sprang out of the darkened room, sword raised. The vagar
flapped its torn wings and flew toward Saylor and the men surrounding her.
The wolfman pulled her down, shielding her with his massive frame.
The vagar flew over them and continued down the hallway toward the
main entrance. The captain rushed out of the room.
“Leave it,” he said, halting two of the soldiers who were about to chase
the vagar. The two nodded and took up their position around Saylor and the
Lord Regent.
Saylor rushed into the room. It was empty. The children were nowhere to
be seen. Only the fathers were wandering around desperately looking for
them.
The captain said. “I need a lamp.”
A soldier handed him one.
With Saylor close on his heels, the captain rushed inside the room and
headed toward the far side of it. Using a specific combination, he knocked
on what appeared to be nothing more than a smooth wall. A portion of the
wall moved outward, the secret door revealing a hidden room. The captain
swung the light inside the dark room, the light falling on Krayston’s face.
“We’re all in here,” Krayston said. “And we’re all safe. Shall we remain
or go to the keep?”
“How did you manage so quickly, Lord Krayston?” the captain said.
Krayston sighed. “It took me longer than I anticipated. A mistake that
nearly cost us. When we heard the glass break and the cries, I opened the
door and my friends and I helped get most inside right away. Except for the
youngest children. They were too afraid to move, and I feared they’d
scream if I or my guys tried to move them.”
 He paused to catch his breath.
“It was Alana who saved us. She stayed outside the secret room with the
little ones to comfort them, coaxing them to follow. Disregarding their own
safety, Alana’s friends came out to help. Together, they brought the younger
children inside and found a way to keep them quiet just as I closed the door
when the vagar entered the room.”
The captain extended his arm, looking at the frightened faces inside the
secret alcove. Behind Krayston, five of his friends stood, forming a
barricade between the entrance and the others. Directly behind them, Alana
knelt, holding a young boy in her arms, tears staining his face.
Behind her, Feidran, Sharlyn, and Katryn each clutched the hands of a
frightened boy or girl. At the very back of the room, a girl dressed in silver
and blue cowered in the corner, lined on either side by two of her friends.
The captain nodded, smiling approvingly. “Well done, Lord Krayston.
Very well done.”
Krayston nodded once, keeping a grave look on his face. “As I said, my
oversight nearly cost us. If Alana hadn’t helped, I don’t know what
would’ve happened.”
“It appears that Miss Alana is indeed worthy of the name Silver,” the
captain said. He cast a glance toward the wolfman. “A name none of us
should have forgotten.”
The wolfman looked away, grunting or growling. Not smiling or beaming
with pride as Saylor would have expected. Then she understood. The
captain hadn’t forgotten the wolfman’s name. He’d forgotten his own.

OceanofPDF.com
 18
Avalon

After the attack was over and the vagars were away from the manor, the
children were led to safety by their fathers and reunited with their mothers.
It still wasn’t safe for anyone to go outside, so they remained huddled in the
main ballroom.
The wolfman stayed near Saylor in the children’s ballroom as did the
captain with the Lord Regent’s instructions to guard Saylor with his life.
Krayston checked on Saylor briefly. Satisfied that she was okay, he went to
assess the damage and see if any of the guests had been injured.
It seemed like more people had been injured than first thought. Saylor
was despondent, knowing the attack had been her fault. She’d fooled herself
into thinking she’d be safe once reaching Balladin. Even safer in the Lord
Regent’s estate. If the enemy could reach her here, she may not be safe
anywhere. And her friends would always be in danger.
Krayston was sent back by his father to remain in the children’s ballroom
with the captain and watch over Saylor and Alana. In case the vagars came
back. As if he could do anything. He seemed willing, but no match for a
vagar. Saylor was more skilled considering her years fending for herself in
the mountains and hunting prey.
The wolfman and the captain would be even better protectors. Though
they still might not be enough, if the vagars came back in force and wanted
her badly enough.
The captain sent one of his soldiers to check on a report that one of his
men was scratched by a vagar. He returned with the man clutching a bloody
arm.
“A scratch?” the captain said. “Breiton, you said it was only a scratch.”
“Aye,” Breiton said, turning his arm over and showing the captain both
sides.
 Saylor turned her head away when the captain said, “Your hand is
missing.”
“Aye. The blasted thing scratched me with its tail,” Breiton said. Almost
as if he didn’t care.
“It scratched your hand clean off?”
“I have another one.”
Saylor still couldn’t look. Even though she’d seen many dead animals
and had gutted and cleaned them more times than she could count. She’d
never seen raw flesh hanging off the end of an arm before and the sight was
revolting.
“It sliced my one hand off, and it scratched the other,” Breiton said. He
showed the captain the back of his remaining hand, revealing a good-sized
scratch on the back of it.
“You should have our nurse see to that wound.”
“Why? It’s just a little scratch,” the one-handed man said, as if offended.
“I meant the missing hand.”
“What are they going to do about it? Sew it back on with needle and
thread? Don’t be daft, Captain.”
“We need to stop the bleeding,” the captain said.
“Aye. You're right, Captain. My apologies. My blood is staining the
floor.”
Breiton walked over to the hearth and stuck the blade of his dagger into
the fire. When it was glowing, he turned toward the captain. “Ye might
want to warn the ladyfolk that there might be a putrid smell.”
Saylor grimaced when she realized what he was about to do. As the
glowing dagger neared Breiton’s wrist, she called out.
“Stop, Breiton! Allow me to try,” Saylor said. “If I can bring a wolf back
to life, maybe I can bring back your hand.”
Even though his face was filled with confusion, the captain stepped aside,
taking the dagger away from Breiton.
She touched Breiton’s arm, startling the soldier.
“Your Majesty,” he said, pulling away from her. “Don’t touch me. You’ll
get blood on your dress.”
 “Give me your arm, and don’t be a baby about it,” she said, smirking.
Understanding he was the least baby-like person she’d ever met. She
stroked his arm with both hands. Not concerned at all about her dress.
The bleeding soon stopped. The skin merged back together. While the
hand didn’t grow back, the wound appeared to be completely healed.
“I’m so sorry, Breiton. I tried.”
Beaming, Breiton held his wrist in the air and waved it around.
“Look Captain! Good as new.”
“It almost is,” Saylor said, sorrow in her voice. “Perhaps if I knew better
my abilities, I could’ve restored your hand.”
“Your Majesty,” said Breiton, “I shall be eternally grateful for this.
Besides, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be equal to other
men.”
Grinning, Breiton winked and bowed deeply.
“I’ve never met anyone as brave as you,” Saylor said. “Thank you for
your service to the king.”
“And to that end, I must now return to my post.”
The captain stood there with his mouth gaping. Staring at Breiton’s
healed nub. Astonished. The wolfman stood next to him. Disinterested.
Deep in thought. Not the least bit surprised.
Krayston barely noticed either. He was pacing back and forth. Like a
tiger in a cage. He went up to the captain and said, “Can I go with him?”
“No.”
“But I want to help.”
“You are helping. Keep to the protocols until there is a time to change
them. As planned, remain with the princess and the other guests. See to
their security.”
“But this isn’t following protocols, Captain. It was supposed to be my
…”
The captain cut him off. “I know. They’ve changed. Now it’s on you,
Lord Krayston.”
“I would prefer to be out there. It feels cowardly to remain behind.”
“Do you think me a coward?”
 Krayston’s eyes widened. Realizing what he’d said. “No. Of course not.”
“It is my duty to remain here. Just as it is yours,” the captain said, patting
Krayston’s shoulder. “It isn’t because you are young.”
Nodding and standing tall, Krayston said, “I understand.”
“Besides, what post could be more important than protecting the Princess
of Light?”
“Protecting her lady-in-waiting,” said Saylor. Unable to suppress a
chuckle.
Both Krayston and Alana stared at her before glancing at each other.
Before glancing away.
“I mean, protecting the princess and all the guests,” Saylor said,
pretending to be serious. “Although, Captain, I’m not sure this is the safest
place to be. The vagars will almost certainly be back. When they come,
they’ll be looking for me. Perhaps I should leave so everyone else will be
safe.”
“No,” the captain, the wolfman, and Krayston said at the exact same
time.
While waiting for Lord Kalston to return, the captain began growing
antsy. The wolfman noticed.
“If you want to go check on your men,” he said, “I’ll guard the princess.”
The captain nodded and opened the door.
“Captain,” Krayston said, “What about protocol?”
The captain smirked. “A captain can change them. Perhaps when you’re
older you’ll understand.”
Krayston shut the captain outside before he could finish.
More waiting. More silence. More time for thoughts to plague her mind.
Saylor understood the captain’s anxiety. And Krayston’s desire not to
remain idle. She didn’t want to sit around either. But for different reasons
than theirs.
Several minutes later, a rap sounded on the door. It opened and Keaston
entered, carrying Avalon in his arms.
She was injured.
Alana let out a yelp.
 He set Avalon on the floor. Saylor immediately rushed to her side and
bent down next to her.
A nurse came in behind Keaston and pushed them both aside.
Keaston stood over Avalon, worry creasing his brow.
“What happened?” Saylor asked.
“Avalon went looking for her father. The Duke was manning a post. A
vagar attacked him. Avalon got caught up in the fray. The vagar slashed her
in the side. Her father is dead.”
“Dead! Does she know?” Saylor asked.
“I don’t think so.”
Avalon was unconscious.
The door opened again, and a deep voice called out. “Keaston!”
Keaston turned toward the voice. The Lord Regent Kalston Drayke stood
in the doorway, scowling. “Get to your post, boy! Unless you wish for
Krayston to take your place.”
Keaston hesitated. His father yelled at him again.
“Avalon is injured,” Keaston said. “I want to stay here with her.”
Saylor imagined this was probably the first time he’d ever talked back to
his father.
“I said to go back to your post! Now!”
Keaston turned and hurried out the door. Leaving it swinging open.
Krayston rushed to close it.
Kalston glanced at his other son. Then at the princess and the wolfman.
“Where is the captain?” Kalston asked.
“He went to check on his men,” the wolfman said.
“The captain left me here to watch over the princess,” Krayston said. He
stepped forward at attention. Like a soldier reporting for command.
Kalston ignored him.
“Do you need anything, Your Majesty?” Kalston asked.
“Just to no longer be a burden to you. And not endanger anyone else.”
Kalston eyed her. His expression was unreadable. As if a million thoughts
raced through his mind.
 Saylor sighed, shaking her head. “No, my Lord. The captain and your son
have tended to us magnificently.”
“Good,” Kalston said. He turned to his son. “This is your purview. Be
prepared to pass the entirety of the night. Do not tell the girl about her
father.” He pointed at Avalon, still unconscious on the floor. “The Duke was
my friend, and our guest. He died honorably. I should be the one to tell her.”
“Understood, Father,” Krayston said.
When the door closed, Krayston turned to Saylor. “Your Highness, I
apologize for the accommodations. Let me know if there is anything I can
do to make things more comfortable.”
“A bed would be nice. I’m joking,” she said, seeing his bewildered face,
as if he was trying to figure out where he could get a bed for her. “I’d be
very upset, Lord Krayston, if you fussed over me before making sure
everyone else has what they need.”
“You have genuine concern for your people.”
“As do you. The actions of you and your brother are commendable.
Considering the circumstances.”
“You’re too kind if you think the actions of my brother are commendable.
I apologize on his behalf. And I’m sure my father will as well.”
Saylor shook her head. “I thought he acted nobly.” She shrugged. “But
what do I know?”
The nurse called for water.
“She’s waking up,” the nurse said. “Give her something to drink.”
Avalon lay on her side, wincing and groaning, a bloody compress on the
side of her ribs.
Krayston immediately heeded the call and fetched the water. Avalon was
going in and out of consciousness and not able to take a drink. The nurse
removed the shirt pressed against her side and cleaned the wound with
water.
Krayston took off his jacket and top shirt and ripped it in two. He gave it
to the nurse, so she’d have a clean bandage.
The nurse sat on the floor next to Avalon and Saylor sat on the other side.
Alana sat at Avalon’s head, stroking her hair. When the nurse lifted the
bandage, Saylor could see three parallel gashes the length of her palm.
She grimaced.
At that moment, Avalon opened her eyes and squinted to focus. Catching
Saylor’s eye first.
“Is it that horrible, Your Highness?” she said. Her face was wrought with
pain. Her voice weak and barely above a whisper.
“You may call me Saylor,” she answered, gently. “Especially when it’s
just you and me. And … well, let’s just say, I’m very sorry to report this,
but your dress is absolutely ruined.”
Avalon let out a single laugh before coughing and wincing.
“It didn’t fit right anyway,” she said, overcoming the pain enough to
force out the words. “I could hardly breathe before, but now that it’s torn, I
can inhale properly. I should thank that blasted thing. I hope my father
killed that wretched creature.”
Saylor nodded. Then hesitated. Trying to decide if now was the time to
tell Avalon that her father was dead.
The wolfman must’ve sensed the confusion because he put his hand on
Saylor’s shoulder.
“Over here,” he said, motioning to a far corner.
“I’ll be right back, Avalon.”
Avalon laid her head back and closed her eyes again.
Saylor stood and joined the wolfman on the other side of the room. He
leaned in and whispered.
“Vagars make their wounded go mad,” he said. “Though their tails are
sharp, they have venom in their claws. Like the helvers. Though not as
strong.”
“I know. It’s because of the poison I’m afraid to try and heal her. If I heal
the slashes, close them up like I did Breiton, will that leave the poison
inside? I don’t know if I can cleanse her blood.”
“She’s been attacked by a foul creature spawned from darkness,” he said.
“I don’t think the power of your light has an effect on them. That Avalon is
not dead is already surprising. And it’s possible …”
He sighed, not wanting to finish.
 “What’s possible?”
“That you could poison yourself if you try.”
Saylor understood. Avalon was going to die. It was only a matter of time.
The nurse must’ve realized the same thing. She abruptly stood and said,
“There’s nothing more I can do for her. I must go check on the other
wounded.”
She wiped her hands on her dress and left the room.
“I think we should call for the child’s mother,” the wolfman said.
“I have to try to help her,” said Saylor. “What manner of princess would I
be if I was more concerned for my life than those of my subjects?”
“You’d be the Princess of Light. If you are dead, what good are you to
your subjects?”
“If I lived and she died without me trying, then I’d never be able to live
with myself.”
She walked over to Avalon and knelt down beside her. At the spot the
nurse had just vacated. She laid one hand over the gashes, making contact
with the exposed skin. She rested her other on Avalon’s bare arm and closed
her eyes. Letting all around drift away. She pictured the wound. Then let
her mind push past it. Imagining the blood. The pollutants within it.
Something resisted her. Not the poison. Not the wound itself. Something
else. Exhaling deeply, Saylor let her mind push harder. And her hands,
pressing against the stubborn wound.
Avalon cried out in pain. Still she resisted the healing power.
Saylor delved deeper. Fighting both Avalon and the poison. Needing to
cleanse the blood first. Then it happened. Both the will of the poison and of
Avalon’s resistance gave over to Saylor. She drew out the contaminants,
feeling them seep across her fingers as they drained from the open wound.
The blood inside Avalon seemed to rejoice. Flow faster. Now the wound
itself. Though still stubborn, she could see in her mind the flesh weaving
itself back together.
Avalon opened her eyes and stiffened, eyes wide with fear. “What did
you do, Your Majesty?”
 “Try and relax, Avalon,” Saylor said, fatigue heavy on her. “Close your
eyes.”
She did. Her breathing grew deep and long, and she drifted off to sleep.
Saylor leaned against the wall, taking in several deep breaths. Needing a
moment to allow her own body to fight the poison that had seeped through
her skin before she could wipe it off.
Both Alana and the wolfman stared at her, both shaking their heads in
unison. Smiling thinly, Saylor faded off to sleep. A restless sleep.
She woke what felt like only minutes later when Avalon shifted on the
floor. Her breaths steady. Strong.
“I forgot where I was for a second,” Avalon said. Her voice had returned
to normal.
“How are you feeling?” Saylor asked, fighting off her drowsiness.
Avalon thought about it. She wrinkled her brow, confused. “Actually,
Your Highness, I feel much better. Fatigued still. But it doesn’t hurt
anymore.”
The wolfman stooped down and lifted the shirt that had been covering the
wound. The flesh surrounding the gashes had closed over, leaving behind
three thin red lines.
He let out a grunt. Or a growl. Saylor wasn’t surprised and yet she was. It
didn’t matter how many times this happened, she’d always be surprised
when it worked.
Avalon stared at Saylor, not understanding her expression. “Is it that bad,
Your Highness?” Avalon said “It doesn’t hurt at all. Perhaps there was
venom or poison, making the cuts feel numb.”
“Or perhaps,” Saylor said, straightening Avalon’s mussed hair, “the
wounds are healed.”
“That’s not possible.” Avalon stared at her side, stunned. “It should not
be possible, Your Majesty. What happened?”
“I am the Princess of Light.”
Avalon tried to stand.
The wolfman helped her to her feet. Other than feeling dizzy, she seemed
to have regained her strength.
 The nurse returned to the room about that time. Shocked to see Avalon
standing. She rushed over to Avalon but stopped dead in her tracks when
she saw the wound. Or the missing wound. No sign of the hideous claw
marks. The spot wasn’t even red anymore.
The nurse’s face went white. She curtsied and whispered something that
sounded like “Queen of Light” before hurrying away.
Avalon was back to her perky self.
“Lord Krayston,” she said. “Have you received word from my parents?
Are they safe?”
Panic came over his face. His father’s instructions not to tell Avalon
about her father’s death were clearly resonating in his mind.
“I’ve received no reports. You should lay back down. If you need
stitches, I can have—”
“I don’t need stitches,” Avalon said, her voice terse, slightly panicked.” I
need to find my father and mother.”
Krayston clenched his jaw. “If they are still inside the manor, we’ll find
them when the danger has passed.”
“I cannot remain here whilst they are in danger out there. They are my
family. Please don’t keep me here. My father would not be pleased if you
held me against my will.”
Krayston frowned. “You are not a hostage, Lady Daewud. Have you
considered that your father has entrusted you to my care so that he could
attend to his duties? I’d be remiss to let you go back out there.”
“Please, could I speak with Lord Kalston?” Avalon begged. “They may
be in grave danger.”
Krayston took a deep breath.
“Open the door,” the wolfman said. “Let the girl go find her mother.”
Krayston opened the door and stepped outside looking both ways, up and
down the corridor. He ducked back into the keep. “You’re in luck. My
father is heading this way with my brother. You can speak with him
directly.”
Avalon nodded and leaned against the wall to wait, Saylor at her side.
The door was still slightly ajar, and they could hear Keaston in the hallway
arguing with his father.
“You have a duty to perform, Keaston.”
“But I love her.”
“That is irrelevant. I don’t have time to go into matters of love. You are
the son of the Lord Regent. We are the Protectorate of the people.
Abandoning the princess to chase after some girl is a dereliction of your
duty."
“Avalon is not just any girl, Father,” Keaston said.
“Fawning over her while threats surround our house makes you appear
unfit for leadership. Lacking self-control. Too weak to carry the title of
Lord Regent.”
“But she might die.”
“Then she dies, Keaston,” Kalston said, his tone softening just a touch.
“You should be more concerned about the princess.”
“You mean, I should be concerned about being seen with the princess. I
don’t care about that,” Keaston said. “I did as you asked and escorted her to
the ball. I’ve done my duty.”
“Tell me, Keaston, did you learn anything of value from Princess Saylor?
Why is she really here?”
“I learned nothing, Father.”
“You couldn’t charm her secrets out of her?”
“There are no secrets. She’s an open book. She doesn’t hide anything.
She’s honest and sincere with genuine compassion and love for her friends
and the people of this kingdom. She speaks what’s true and expresses
what’s on her heart.”
“That’s not very useful,” Kalston said. “I don’t trust her.”
“It’s incredibly useful, Father. If you weren’t so distrusting of her, you’d
see that.”
“You know who it is that I distrust. And you know why. Do you at least
know what side she’s on? Did the king send her? Is she opposed to him? Is
that why the king moved against Gada and is now headed this way?”
“She isn’t on a side, except for the side of the people.”
 “I’m on the side of the people. That’s why we are risking our lives
tonight. When the king is displeased and seems to be close to attacking the
people we are sworn to protect, I need to know why.”
“The princess doesn’t know anything about the king’s intentions.”
“How would you know? She’s been living with him all these years.
Surely, she knows something.”
Saylor started to interrupt them but thought better of it. Would Keaston
keep her secret? Or would he tell his father what she told him. That she had
lived all those years in the mountains. He said he wouldn’t tell. She was
surprised when he didn’t.
“She is absolutely pure in spirit and holds no ill thoughts toward anyone,”
Keaston said. “She doesn’t know anything.”
Saylor breathed out a noticeable sigh of relief.
Keaston continued. “Saylor is the daughter of the Brightness Queen. If
her father is attacking the people, I’m sure she’s against it. And I am her
ally.”
Lord Kalston grinned, as if he at last got what he truly wanted. “An ally
who abandoned her and his duty to chase after another girl.”
Keaston remained silent.
“Now,” Lord Kalston said, “go back to your post near the entrance.”
Keaston trotted away, the sound of his footsteps fading as he headed
down the corridor.
Kalston was through the door in no time. His demeanor turned friendly as
soon as he saw the princess.
Avalon spoke. “Your Lordship, may I trouble you?”
Kalston studied her and Saylor, not giving away whether he believed
they’d heard his conversation with Keaston.
“Miss Daewud, I heard you were injured.”
“Your Lordship, I assure you my deepest wounds are not external.”
“Then you have heard?” he said soberly. Kalston glared at Krayston.
“Heard what?” Avalon asked.
“She doesn’t know,” Saylor said. “Krayston didn’t say anything.”
 “Your Majesty,” Kalston said. “I have news for Miss Daewud.”
“Please, Your Lordship,” Avalon said. “I’d like her with me to hear
whatever it is you need to tell me”
He inhaled again and nodded.
“The Duke did not survive the attack. My deepest condolences.”
Avalon gasped and winced, as if her wound suddenly had begun to hurt.
Saylor grabbed Avalon’s hand with both of hers, her entire body shaking as
she fought to maintain control.
“Your mother is dead as well. The nurse said it was perhaps her heart.
I’m sorry.”
“Show me, Lord Kalston,” Avalon said, her voice forceful but broken.
“Where is my father’s body? And where is my mother? I must go to them.”
Avalon was surprisingly strong and had regained her composure quickly.
“My Lady, I do not think it wise. It is not safe. Your father left you under
my protection.”
“My parents are dead,” Avalon said. “I am now the Duchess. As such, the
responsibility for my safety lies with me. However, if my father hasn’t left
me any soldiers, I shall go alone, and not risk any of your men.”
Before the Lord Regent could say anything, Avalon bolted through the
door and took off running. Without thinking, Saylor kicked off her shoes
and ran after her.
The wolfman’s cries spurred her on to greater speed. Hiking up the
bottom hem of her skirt, she sprinted, focusing on not stepping on her dress
and falling in a heap of lace.
When she rounded the corner, Avalon was a good distance ahead. She ran
out the door, leaping the grand steps three or four at a time. Once at the
bottom, she turned toward the far end of the manor.
Saylor followed but Avalon was quicker. Probably since her dress was
torn. Her dress was also still constricting her. Making it hard to breathe
from the sudden exertion.
Saylor sensed the wolfman and the Lord Regent following from behind.
She didn’t dare look or it might slow her down enough for them to catch
her.
 A shriek rang out. A familiar sound.
A vagar had been hiding in one of the trees.
Saylor stopped running and scanned the sky for the threat. She heard him
but couldn’t see him.
Until it was too late.
A streak flashed in the darkness.
“Watch out!” the wolfman shouted.
The vagar descended on Saylor, wrapping its sharp talons around her
upper arms. She let out a squeal of pain. The vagar lifted Saylor off the
ground and beat its wings against the air. Desperately trying to hold onto
her and keep them aloft.
Saylor kicked her feet back and forth. She stopped when the vagar had
her so high the fall would kill her.
As they flew off into the darkness, it occurred to her that a fall might be a
better fate than what awaited her.

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 19
The Cliffs of Calais

Minutes passed into hours. The initial sharp pain of the vagar’s claws
dimmed over time, but the soreness increased where it kept a firm hold on
Saylor’s upper arms.
Saylor wasn’t sure how much more she could take. Ascended above the
clouds, she could no longer see the ground.
An even bigger worry. How much more could the vagar take? Could he
continue to maintain his grip?
Did she even want him to?
Death seemed like it might be a better alternative. The only reason she
didn’t want that to happen was because she was curious as to what awaited
her on the other end of the journey.
She had to know who was behind it. Was it her sister? Princess Sawmta.
That was her first guess. It could also be the King of Darkness. Even the
Brightness Queen.
Was she finally going to meet her mother who had been missing all this
time? What kind of mother would put her own daughter through this kind of
torture?
And yet she didn’t know for sure. She’d never met her. All she’d heard
were the rumors. That the Brightness Queen was responsible for all the ills
of the people of Balladin. She didn’t want to believe it.
Her mother was hiding for a reason. Was she afraid of the king? Of her
sister? If Saylor got out of this alive, she would have to go back into hiding
as well. She now saw the logic her mother had acted on. Hiding in the
mountains. Keeping Saylor away from strangers.
In some ways, she wished she could go back to those times. When her
mother was alive, and life was simple. Before she met the wolfman. Saylor
had naively thought that she would be safe in Ballidin. That she was outside
the reach of the evil forces. Now she realized that she had not only put
herself at risk, but she’d also put the lives of her friends and the people of
Balladin at risk as well.
Was it really possible that the Brightness Queen was behind all this
misery?
The wolfman was so sure of the goodness of the queen. To the point that
he risked his life to find Saylor and take her to her mother. She had doubted
the virtue in the wolfman at first. Now she trusted him implicitly. Surely, he
wasn’t on the side of evil.
The long journey gave her a lot of time to contemplate those questions.
Creating enough curiosity in her that she had to endure this trip in case the
vagar was carrying her to answers.
She might die, but not until she knew the truth.
If the vagar had the strength to get her there. It’d help if she knew where
they were going and how long this nightmare in the sky would last.
As if it were reading her thoughts, the vagar descended rapidly. The
clouds parted revealing a sea below. With no land in sight. She was
suddenly glad that she had been above the clouds and unable to see what
was below. Her anxiety increased twofold knowing she was over water
rather than land.
What could be worse than falling from this height? Into a vast sea.
Totally at the mercy of the vile creatures who dwelt in it.
Saylor kept a firm hold on her breath as the vagar carried her a few
hundred feet above the water’s surface. She tried not to let her anxiety get
the best of her. Now that she was more aware of her surroundings, the
debate intensified in her head.
What would be the preferred manner of death?
Being torn to shreds, limb by limb, by a dark and vicious vagar over time.
Falling into the sea and being eaten by a sea creature. Or falling from a high
altitude and going splat on the earth.
That would be the preferable outcome she decided.
She could enjoy the scenery as she fell and wouldn’t know what hit her
when she hit the ground. Death would be certain and instant.
 Not that she had any choice in the matter. The vagar would decide her
fate. It seemed to have found renewed vigor.
That made her laugh. A vagar with vigor.
She thought of the dumbest things at the worst possible time.
The increase in speed was noticeable. The vagar flew faster. Its grip on
her shoulders was tighter. For once, she was thankful for the lacey and
fluffy dress. The material provided some protection. If the vagar had been
holding onto her bare skin, it would’ve cut her, and the pain would’ve been
unbearable.
The poison could also be slowly killing her. Another way to die that she
hadn’t considered.
Could she save herself the way she saved Avalon? Could she raise herself
from the dead like she did the wolf?
More questions.
An amazing power operated inside of her. Yet she didn’t know the full
extent of that power. She didn’t know how to best use it for good. For years,
she lived not knowing she even had it. Now that she knew about it, she
needed to figure out how to tap into all of it.
Like right now. Did she have the power to escape the vagar’s clutches?
Could she survive the fall? What powers did she possess that she didn’t
know about?
What if she was wrong and her powers were limited?
As best as she could manage, she thrust the dark thoughts from her head
and tried to enjoy the bird’s-eye view of the world. Flying in a northeasterly
direction, the sun was rising slowly to her right and cast a golden glow onto
what appeared to be snow-capped mountains to the west and north of her
position.
A jolt of excitement came over her. That meant land was not far away. As
they got closer, she could see that the base of the highest peaks was covered
with fog or clouds. The mountains were higher than she thought. Only a
sliver of the white peaks was visible near the horizon. Much higher
mountains than the ones she grew up in.
The vagar descended rapidly and dropped her gently onto the shore of a
small isle in the sea. From above, she’d seen the size of the small landmass.
It would be futile to try and escape since it was surrounded by water. She
plopped onto the sand as the winged creature disappeared into the foliage.
A scuffle in the underbrush sounded as an animal scrambled to escape. It
squeaked and went silent. Bones crunched. Saylor cringed and wrinkled her
nose. A few minutes later, the vagar emerged, licking its chops.
It sickened her but also reminded her that she was hungry. She hadn’t
eaten anything at the ball. She’d been too nervous. Her dress was too tight.
Now she regretted that decision. She was also thirsty. Water surrounded her
but none she could drink.
The vagar approached. Saylor was too tired to be afraid of it.
“Why don’t you go hunt something else and let me rest for a minute?”
It cocked its head sideways, as if trying to make out her speech. It snorted
and shook its head.
Saylor seemed to understand. “I know. You’ve got places to be. A few
minutes won’t kill you.”
She stretched her arms, refusing to stand.
It snorted again and bared its teeth in a menacing pose.
“Nice try, Mister Evil Vagar, but if you wanted me dead, you could’ve
dropped me in the ocean hours ago. Don’t worry, though. I’m dying to meet
your master. Just give me a sec. Besides, you must be tired as well.”
It snorted louder. Saylor sighed and stood, holding her arms out to the
side. “Fine. Try not to pinch my flesh into my bones with your talons.”
She turned away, allowing it to leap and latch onto her. Before long, they
ascended again, continuing their course. Whatever that was.
Before long, she began to make out the coastline ahead, the edge of it
stretching west and south. The vagar hadn’t flown her across the sea but
across a large bay. That heightened her spirits. That meant the wolfman
could find her.
Surely he would. If he’d gone to such great efforts to find her the first
time, he’d certainly come looking for her now. Miles and miles of
countryside separated Saylor from Alana and her father, but at least it
wasn’t water.
Perhaps they could follow her aura. No reason to keep it hidden now.
 Saylor let out a frustrated breath.
“Except that it’s daytime,” she said aloud, not sure to whom she spoke.
She glanced up at the underside of the vagar’s chin and said, “You’re not a
great conversationalist, you know. Or perhaps I just don’t speak snorting
and growling.”
It snorted in response.
“I suppose that even if you could tell me where we’re going, I wouldn’t
understand you anyway.”
Several long minutes passed with nothing but the sound of the wings
flapping and the air whooshing past her ears.
“You know, Mister Evil Vagar, there was no need for you to scare all
those children back there. That was a rather cowardly thing to do. If you
wanted to capture me and not kill me, you could’ve just asked. There was
no need for all that extra ado.”
The vagar snorted several times.
“Yeah, yeah,” Saylor said. “I know you’re just following orders. Can you
tell me whose?”
The vagar released a low guttural noise from its long throat.
Saylor sniffed a chuckle. “Yeah, yeah. I have an idea.”
She had decided her sister was behind all this. A sixth sense that told her
she was right.
As the coastline drew closer, Saylor began to make out waves crashing
against the rocky shore far below the high cliffs. The vagar began gliding,
their altitude slowly decreasing. Saylor began fidgeting.
“Um, Mister Evil Vagar, what are you doing? We’re not going to clear
those cliffs. You didn’t bring me this far just to smash me against those
rocks, did you?”
It kept silent and remained on its current trajectory. Soon, the cliffs
loomed ahead as the vagar had dropped to a point below the tops of them. It
began flapping its wings again, keeping a steady line toward the middle of
the cliff face ahead, heading toward a black rock.
As they neared, Saylor made out the details of the black rock that wasn’t
a rock at all but the entrance to a cave. The vagar flew directly toward it,
moving at a speed that felt too fast. The last few hundred feet zipping
toward the wall of rock passed quickly.
Saylor suddenly wished the voyage wasn’t about to end. Only two
options remained. Crashing into the rocks or finding out what lurked in the
cave.
Because her attention had focused on the dark doorway in the rocks, she
had failed to notice a narrow pathway carved into the side of the cliff that
led upward. A gust of wind from below threw them up and to the side. The
vagar snorted and flapped hard against the wind, trying to keep on its line
toward the dark opening ahead.
It muscled a few feet further. The wind abated suddenly.
It lurched forward, needing to dip low to avoid crashing into the face of
the cliff.
The blackness of the cave swallowed the travelers. The vagar’s speed was
too high. It flapped frantically by flailing its wings forward. A crash against
the stone wall was inevitable, so it dropped Saylor. She landed on the
smooth stone surface and slid forward on her hands and knees.
She twisted onto her side to avoid a head-on collision with the cave wall.
She held her breath, waiting for the impact. It didn’t come. Her forward
momentum slackened. She stopped inches from the sharper rocks in the
cave wall.
Saylor exhaled and remained motionless, uncertain if she had truly
avoided injury. Nothing hurt. Not even her knees, the rocky surface
smoothed by the elements hadn’t scratched her skin. She pushed up to a
seated position and scanned the dim entrance of the cave.
The vagar hadn’t been as fortunate. After releasing Saylor, it smacked
into the cave wall and slumped to the rocky surface. It remained in a heap
by the cave wall, its sides heaving as it struggled to draw in breath.
“Is that the best you can do, Mister Evil?” Saylor said to the vagar. “You
need to work on your landings.”
The injured vagar whimpered in pain. It tried to stand and flap its wings
but couldn’t. Saylor suddenly felt compassion for it, realizing it had
sacrificed its own body to keep her from smashing into the stone surface.
“Hopefully, you’ll be fine,” she said.
 Saylor actually considered walking over to it and laying her hands on it
and healing its wounds but didn’t get the chance. From out of the darkness
deeper within the cave, a low voice said, “Foolish beast. I hope it’s dead.”
An enormous brute of a man with gray skin and a bald head, kicked the
vagar in the ribs as he passed by it. The vagar winced and snarled at the
brute’s calloused and unshod dirty feet.
“That was uncalled for,” Saylor said, scowling. “You’re the one acting
beastly. It brought me here safely, didn’t it? You didn’t have to kick it like
that.”
“Silence,” the brute said, reaching down to grab her.
She slapped his hand aside. “Don’t touch me.”
He raised the back of his hand, as if getting ready to slap her. The scar
down the side of his cheek drained of blood and was turning white.
Saylor leaned forward, staring him dead in the eyes. “Go ahead. I dare
you. It seems thumping creatures smaller than yourself seems to make you
feel powerful. But I wonder if Princess Sawmta would approve of your
brutish actions toward her sister.”
The brute flinched slightly at the mention of the princess’s name, telling
her everything she needed to know. Her sister was behind this.
“How will you explain a welp on the side of my cheek?” Saylor said.
“I’m a princess too, you know. I demand that you bow before me.”
The side of his lip twitched. He bowed mockingly.
“That’s right. Show some respect.”
The man stood upright, and Saylor saw how big he really was. His
massive and shirtless torso had the flexibility of an iron beam and was just
as strong.
“If it pleases thee, get up and move!” His face drew near to hers, and he
screamed the last word. His breath smelled of rancid fish.
Saylor coughed and gagged, wafting the air away from her nose. “Oof.
Did you just snack on a rotten carcass?”
He sneered. “I snack on dead little girls who don’t listen,” he said, patting
his rotund and bare belly.
 “Ha, ha,” Saylor said, rising to her feet, taking as much time as possible.
“You don’t scare me. I’ll move when I’m good and ready.”
Suddenly the air left her lungs. The brute grabbed the back of her dress so
hard it took her breath away. He lifted her easily off her feet as if she was
nothing more than a fairy in the talons of a dragon.
“Hey,” she said, annoyed. “Unhand me at once.”
The brute chuckled deeply as he carried her into the cave. The outside
light faded away the further down the corridor they went. They rounded a
bend and entered a roughly hewn room lit by a few lamps.
“Yes, Princess,” the brute said, mocking her. “Of course, Princess.
Anything you say, Princess.”
Opposite a crude wooden table with empty tankards of ale on it, several
dark cells with iron bars beckoned menacingly. He opened one of them, the
door creaking on its rusted hinges, and tossed her inside the dark cell.
She cried out, preparing to slam once again on the hard stone surface.
Instead, she landed on a straw mattress, albeit a smelly one, stinking of
must, mold, and other things she didn’t wish to name.
The brute let out a deep laugh, his heavy guffaw reverberated down the
darkened corridor beyond the cell room. Saylor sat up and glanced around,
glad she’d been imprisoned near the light and not further down into the
depths of the cliff’s cave where the brute’s laughter had been choked by the
darkness.
A voice spoke from the dark cell beside her.
“Princess, eh?” a woman said. Saylor turned toward the sound, unable to
make her out in the dim light. It seemed like she was talking to the brute.
The woman continued, “Are you certain this time, Tubs? I’d hate to be in
your shoes, or sandals. Do you even wear shoes? Anyway, I’d hate to be in
your stinky wart-ridden feet if you’re wrong again.”
“You keep quiet,” the brute said.
“Or else what?” the unseen woman retorted.
The brute sneered. “Or I throw you off the cliffs. Since you are not a
princess, you useless …”
 “I’m going to die anyway. I would enjoy the fresh air. It’d be much better
than smelling your stinky armpits all the time.”
The brute snarled much like the vagar had and headed back toward the
cave entrance. He screamed at the vagar, his voice echoing off the rock
walls as he ordered the vagar to inform its master of its recent capture.
The woman in the adjoining cell snickered. “Dumb ogre.”
“Ogre?” Saylor said, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the dark. She
still couldn’t see the woman’s face.
“Ogre. Troll. Beast. Smelly man. They’re all the same.”
“Who are you?” Saylor said, sitting up. She strained to get a better look.
“Well, I’m not the princess, just in case we weren’t clear about that.”
“I gathered that.”
“What about you? Are you the princess they’ve been looking for?”
“So they say.”
“You doubt it’s true?”
Saylor shrugged.
The woman laughed, her single “ha” echoing throughout the cave.
“Well, isn’t that rich. A girl who’s been addressed as princess since the
day she was born, who had every servant in the palace scrambling to see to
her every need, doesn’t believe she’s a princess? Let me guess, daddy told
you he wasn’t paying for the most expensive gown in the land for the royal
ball, forcing you to instead purchase that dress from a two-bit seamstress
and suddenly, you’re not a princess.”
The woman laughed again.
Saylor scowled, not liking the woman. Not wanting to engage with her
anymore. Yet feeling the need to defend herself.
“It wasn’t a royal ball. And I love this dress. It’s the best I ever had.”
“Is the king broke?”
“I …” Saylor wasn’t sure if she should say anything. Not knowing why,
she confessed the truth to the stranger, if for no other reason than needing to
talk to someone other than the troll jailer or the vagar. “I didn’t grow up in
the palace. I grew up in the mountains.”
 “Ah. Yes. The favored daughter of the king and queen, the heir apparent,
was just allowed to go into the mountains. Sure.”
“Well, it’s true.” Saylor grunted. Or growled. “I don’t know why I’m
even telling you this.”
The woman chuckled. “I do. It’s kind of obvious.”
“Really?” Saylor said, words full of sarcasm. “Please, impart to me thy
great wisdom.”
“The girls I’ve seen in these cells all whimper and cry and call out for
their mommy, beg for their lives, and sob every time they hear the footsteps
of the ogre. But not you. You almost seem to be enjoying yourself. As if
you were only too happy to get away from everyone.”
“That’s not true,” Saylor said, hoping it wasn’t true.
“What’s the matter? The responsibility of a princess weighing too heavily
on you?”
“No,” Saylor said, defensively. She took a deep breath to control her
anger. “It’s just that when I lived in the mountains, everything made sense. I
knew who I was. My purpose. But now.” Her voice trailed off.
“Ah. So I was right. You are enjoying your little vacation, aren’t you?”
“Just because I would like to go back to the mountains, to the life I used
to know, doesn’t mean I enjoy being in this filthy cell.”
“Now I know you are the daughter of the Brightness Queen. She left her
children, left her husband, left her kingdom, and left her people to run away
and go into hiding. And why? Nobody knows. Except what I know is this.
Her daughter wants to go into hiding just like her mother.”
“I do not. That is not what I meant.”
“If you say so, Saylor dear. You’re a royal. I’m guessing you’ve had
everyone telling you that what you say and do is exactly right because you
are the princess. Maybe I should be careful expressing my opinion around
you. I wouldn’t want to lose my head.”
“Very funny. And by the way, how do you know my name?”
“Really? You’re asking me that? Who hasn’t heard about the emergence
of the Princes of Light? Everyone from the Cliffs of Calais to the
northernmost shores of Edenisia have heard about you. But everyone is
asking the same thing. Is she for the king or for the queen?”
“I am for the people.”
“Now that is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day. So funny, I can’t even
laugh at it because it’s so pathetic.”
Saylor groaned in frustration. “Oh my feathers of holiness. How is that a
lie? I do care about my people.”
“Well, let’s see. While you are on your little vacation here, your people
are still hungry, cold, living in fear. Yet instead of being concerned for
them, you concerned yourself with finding a pretty dress for a ball to dance
with the elite. And after that didn’t work out the way you wanted, you now
want to escape the cave just to go back to the mountains.”
Saylor glowered, unable to think of a reply.
“You know what?” the woman said, in mock excitement, “Maybe I’m
wrong. Maybe living in the mountains is too much work. Too much
responsibility. You’d prefer to stay here. It makes sense. If you are the
princess, you’ll be kept alive. Fed every day. Sure, it will be leftovers and
crawling with maggots. But you’ll still eat better than most children. And
water. You’ll have the cleanest water for miles. At least, cleaner water than
what most of the peasants drink. After several years of being here and away
from the real world, the troll jailer will start to look pretty handsome. You
get used to him and his foul stench. Start to like his stupidity. Just perfect
for a smart and powerful gal like you. A dumb man that you can have
doting on you. And then, there will be a wedding. You’ll be a troll’s bride.
And have lots of little troll babies running around in the caves. But you
won’t have to worry about any of them running out and falling into the sea.
Because they will be your children. Your mother’s grandchildren. And like
you, rather than facing the world, they’ll prefer to hide out in a deep, dark,
dank hole. Just like their mother.”
The silence in the cave grew loud. Drips of water from somewhere
suddenly seemed loud as they crashed onto the stone floor.
Saylor sighed, nodding sadly.
“That is quite the harsh accusation,” Saylor said softly. “Have I wronged
you in another life or along my journey somehow?”
 The woman let out a deep breath. “No. Not you. Just the royal house.
Well, more specifically, your sister. She’s the reason I’m here. And, unless
you are extremely dense yourself, which I don’t think you are, then I’m sure
you’ve figured she’s the reason you’re here too.”
“What does she want with you?”
“She was looking for you. When she couldn’t find you, she rounded up as
many girls as possible that fit the description. But the dumb brutes doing
her handiwork can’t tell the difference because a girl with red hair and a
rock with moss on it.”
“Surely they didn’t think you were me?”
“They thought my little sister was. That’s why I’m here. I tracked her.
Got caught. Found out I was too late. Your charming sister doesn’t let …
well, it wouldn’t be good for anyone to know what she was up to.”
“That’s horrible. I’m so sorry. If I had known sooner, I could’ve done
something.”
“What? What would you have done?” the woman said, disbelieving her.
“I would have given myself up to her. Knowing that others died because
of me. Now I know I can’t stay hidden.”
“Oh. That’s the reason for not being hidden? How noble.”
“Please, I just found out I was the princess. And then someone tried to
kill me. I’ve been fearing for my life for weeks. I don’t want people to die
on my account. If I had the power to, I’d help all these people. I would.”
“Perhaps you are the daughter of the Brightness Queen. She was known
for her compassion for the people. Before she abandoned them.”
“I won’t abandon them. I can’t wait to finally meet my sister and ask her
what she wants from me.”
“Well, I don’t think it’s you she really wants. I mean, yes, she wants to
have you imprisoned. But your sister kept asking all the others about their
mother.”
Saylor’s shoulders slumped. “But I don’t know where my mother is.”
“Have you even tried looking?”
“I told you. I just found out I had a mother.”
 “If I had just found out my mother was the queen, and the people were
suffering because she simply disappeared and refuses to help them, then I
don’t think I would rest until I found her and restored her to the throne. That
is, if I truly cared about the people the way you say you do.”
Saylor remained silent. She’d had many opportunities to wonder about
her mother. She had many questions for her as well. If no one in the entire
kingdom knew where she was, then how could Saylor find her. She’d have
as much chance of doing that than finding a seven-sided snowflake in a
blizzard.
“Oh feathers. And not the pretty kind. Raven. Crow. Buzzard feathers.”
“Yikes. Those are the worst kind. Don’t be all doom and gloom, Saylor.
Like I said, the troll isn’t such a bad guy once you get to know him.”
Squinting, scowling half seriously and half playfully, Saylor said, “Then
why don’t you marry him.”
The woman chuckled. “He’s too smart for my taste.”
“Ha. Ha,” Saylor said.
“Well, when I get out of here, I can’t wait to tell my father I shared a
prison with the daughter of the King of Darkness and the Queen of Light,
the heir to the throne. I feel kind of special. A royal and I shared the same
lodgings.”
Saylor looked around her cell. Wondering if there was a way to escape.
She expected to see a rock roof. Instead, furs and animal skins lined the
ceiling and walls of her cell and the woman’s.
“Which one of your friends isn’t your friend and betrayed you?” the
woman said. “I mean, with friends like that, who needs a psychotic
homicidal sister?”
Saylor let her head bump back against the furred wall. She hadn’t thought
about it. How did the vagars know she’d be at the ball?
“Anyway, due to that smelly brute’s snoring, I didn’t sleep a wink last
night. I’m going to try and rest before my execution. So if you could quiet
down and just stop what you’re doing.”
Saylor threw her hands up. “What? I didn’t say anything. And I’m not
doing anything other than sitting here.”
 “Exactly,” the woman said.
Saylor fumed. Muttering softly to herself. Soon, that grew tiresome. She
didn’t know what to tell herself anymore.
The cell went silent.
While considering the woman’s words, fatigue overtook Saylor. Ignoring
the stench as best she could, she lay on her mattress and dozed off, hoping
to dream of the mountains and her home where she’d grown up.
It seemed she hadn’t slept long before the sound of the brute’s feet
slapping across the cold stone surface woke her. As the woman had
predicted, Saylor didn’t sob. Instead, she looked forward to seeing him.
Ready to face him and his master.
Saylor called out to the woman in the cell next to her. No response. Did
they take her away already?
Saylor glanced toward her cell door. Her breath caught in her throat. A
woman stood outside of it staring at her, her pale face hidden mostly by the
hood of a black cloak that hung down to the stone floor. Her thin red lips on
a small mouth set in a permanent frown pressed tighter together when their
eyes met.
Saylor gasped.
She recognized the woman immediately. Her facial features similar to her
own.
She had finally come face to face with her sister.

OceanofPDF.com
 20
The Sister

A dark figure emerged from the cave and walked confidently over to
Saylor’s cell and stopped. She didn’t blink. That’s the first thing Saylor
noticed.
The woman standing before her was unmistakably her sister. She hadn’t
spoken a word and Saylor knew it was her. Maybe familiarity gave it away.
Perhaps a sister just knows.
Princess Sawmta clasped her hands together. They hung below her hips,
her thin fingers partially covered by the long sleeves of her scarlet dress.
She stood as still as a statue as she appraised her captive.
From the look on her face, Sawmta had discerned the same thing. The
search for her sister was over.
A rage spilled up inside of Saylor and boiled all the way up to her face as
her jaw clenched and she felt her forehead become hot with anger. Innocent
lives had been snuffed out by this monster with a heart as black as her
cloak. Unless the woman in the cell had been lying about losing her sister.
Saylor couldn’t think of a reason why.
She couldn’t fathom that her own flesh and blood, her sister born of the
same mother and father, could be capable of such vileness. And if Sawmta
could, then perhaps Saylor had the same propensity toward evil as her.
Or perhaps, Sawmta was capable of the same compassion and love that
Saylor held in her heart for her people and for her family. For her evil and
vile and reprehensible sister.
Saylor looked deep into her sister’s eyes. Searching for any glint of light.
Of joy or happiness. Nothing. It’s like she was looking at pure evil.
So many people had warned her to fear Sawmta. She understood what
Keaston had meant when he mentioned meeting her. He admitted Sawmta
had scared him.
“I swear she hissed at me,” he had said.
Like a fool, Saylor had asked who was prettier. How vain. Self-absorbed
she had been. Like that even mattered.
Saylor could tell why that had been so hard a question for Keaston to
answer. The woman was strikingly beautiful on the outside, but inside her
soul was a vile ugliness. Difficult to look upon.
The hard features of her face stood in stark contrast to the locks of her
wavy crimson hair escaping the fabric of her dark hood to frame and kiss
the sides of the woman’s cheeks, bringing a softness to her hard demeanor.
Saylor couldn’t stop herself from expressing it.
“Princess Sawmta,” Saylor said, her voice an awed whisper, “you are
beautiful.”
The princess’s eyes twitched ever so slightly. None would have noticed
even had they been looking. Saylor did. It seemed Princess Sawmta hadn’t
expected Saylor to say anything positive, especially about her appearance.
Her thin lips opened slightly as she spoke, her words a grating rasp. “And
you reek of your mother’s cowardice.”
Saylor feared the woman more than any other creature in the world, yet
she found courage to speak the words, “You mean, our mother.”
Princess Sawmta’s expression remained the same, her brow and cheeks
seemingly unaffected by her jaw moving when forming words or expressing
emotion.
“We may share the same blood, Princess,” she said, hissing the title, “but
we will never be sisters.”
Saylor stood as near to the iron bars as possible, her face a mere breath
from them as she looked at her sister. Princess Sawmta wasn’t much taller
than she. Considering the malice within her, Saylor figured her sister would
reek of whatever evil smelled like. Sulfur perhaps. A rotting carcass. That
wasn’t what Saylor smelled.
A soft fragrance emanated from her. Likely from the wash in her hair. A
familiar one. And definitely not a foul-smelling evil-imbued stench from
the pit of hell.
 As if sensing that Saylor wasn’t repulsed by her presence, Sawmta took a
step back.
In what Saylor could only assume was an unintended rare show of
weakness.
“We will always be sisters,” Saylor said. Determined to search for a hint
of anything good in her.
Princess Sawmta seemed to ignore the comment. “Where is your
cowardly mother?”
“Why should I tell you, even if I knew?”
“I have much to say to her.”
Saylor shook her head. “What do you want with our mother?”
“It would be wise if you told me, Princess. If I can get to you, how much
easier would it be to get to one of your friends?”
The words rang true. Saylor had felt safe and secure in the Lord Regent’s
estate, surrounded by walls and soldiers. Thought her friends wouldn’t be in
danger. How could she have been so wrong? Thinking she could go to a ball
was foolish.
Princess Sawmta’s words were piercing. “Look how heavily you were
guarded, and yet here you are. In my prison. Yes, Saylor. You will tell me
what I want to know.”
Menacing words that didn’t match the young woman’s frame. The stone-
cold eyes betrayed her. They were more dead than anything. Like the real
Sawmta had been overrun by the evil presence.
Perhaps Princess Sawmta was in a prison of her own making. Locked in a
cave. A deep. Dark. Dank hole.
Just as the Darkness King was a part of Saylor, and she wasn’t a
murderous raving psychotic princess. Not yet anyway. Somewhere in
Sawmta, submerged deeper than the sea outside the cave, dwelled a part of
the Brightness Queen.
It gave Saylor a sudden jolt of courage.
“You have me,” Saylor said. “No need to threaten my friends.”
Princess Sawmta practically smiled, the motion nothing more than the
corner of her lips moving a smidge. She turned her face a few degrees to the
side and hissed.
A moment later, the vagar entered and slunk toward her. The one that had
brought Saylor to the Cliffs of Calais. Still nursing its injuries. Apparently,
it had approached its master without permission.
“You fool! I didn’t call for you!”
Quicker than a snake striking, Princess Sawmta grabbed the vagar by the
throat, bringing its face toward hers. After a moment of staring into its eyes,
she flung it aside. It crashed into the wall, the bones in its wings cracking. It
squealed in agony and plopped onto the stone floor.
The action had come right after Sawmta threatened Saylor’s friends.
Maybe that was the reason. She did it for effect. If she’d harm the vagar
who served her with its life for no reason at all, Saylor had no doubt that
Sawmta would hurt her friends even if it wasn’t necessary.
That’s how deep the darkness ran.
To dive beneath it, she’d have to hold her breath a long time. Longer than
she had the power to.
Princess Sawmta’s other side of her lips twinged with a frigid and barely
perceptible smile. “That was my favorite vagar. The most loyal.”
“Loyal out of fear. Not out of love or compassion. Or by choice,” Saylor
said angrily.
“As if you have better allies, Princess. You consort with the treasonous
Vendasi and his daughter.”
Saylor squinted one eye, raising the brow of the other. “Who? I don’t
know anyone by that name.”
Princess Sawmta’s words spewed with venom. “The man who failed your
mother! The one who travels in black furs with black hair crawling all over
his face to conceal his shame.”
“The wolfman?” Saylor asked.
Princess Sawmta’s eyes twitched slightly, her chest moving a fraction as
a single laugh escaped through her thin lips.
“Wolf indeed.”
“Please don’t hurt Alana,” Saylor said, immediately regretting the words.
 They showed weakness. Begging would only empower the evil in
Sawmta. She’d want to hurt anything Saylor cared about. Now that she
knew how much Alana meant to her, she might harm her just out of spite.
Or for her own sick pleasure.
“I’ll hurt who I like to get what I want.”
“You have what you want. Like you said, I’m here in this prison cell. Do
with me what you will.”
Saylor shook the bars for effect. The sound clanged against the walls
reverberating throughout the cave.
Princess Sawmta said, “I only want you because I have to know where
your mother is.”
“I don’t know where our mother is, Princess Sawmta. I promise.”
The words of vitriol spilled out of her sister’s mouth like a volcanic
eruption. Startling Saylor. “Promise me nothing, Princess! You lie! I’ll draw
from your lips the truth I seek from you.”
“I don’t know where she is. I wouldn’t even know where to begin
looking.”
“Then you’d better figure it out. Your friend Vendasi will know. If you
won’t tell me, he will.”
“He is stronger than me. If he does know, he’ll never tell you.”
“He will. To save his own daughter.”
Saylor wondered if that was true. She thought of the times the wolfman
had put Alana in harm’s way to save Saylor. She thought about mentioning
it. It might make Sawmta lose interest in Alana. It only took a couple of
seconds of thought to realize that Sawmta would see right through the ruse.
Sawmta abruptly turned around and began walking away. Saylor hadn’t
expected that.
“Think on it. I’ll return at nightfall. Then we'll talk again.”
“I look forward to it, Sister. Maybe then you’ll tell me who your master
is, and why you wish death on the world.”
In a flash, Sawmta was at the cell, her hand at Saylor’s throat. Squeezing.
Saylor struggled to breathe.
 Sawmta seethed her words through gritted teeth. “I have no master,
Sister,” she said, hissing the last word. “Those days are done.”
“Everybody has a master,” Saylor said, forcing the words out.
Sawmta’s eyes twitched. Then as fast as she’d come, she spun and fled
toward the exit of the dark cave, nearly colliding with the brute jailer who
was entering at the same time. He leapt to the side to avoid making physical
contact with her.
A soft hiss fell from her lips.
He grunted and said, “You called for me?”
Princess Sawmta turned slightly back, glancing over at the other cell. The
woman in there hadn’t spoken. Saylor figured she was afraid to say
anything. Probably cowering in the corner.
“Wait until night. Then toss the prisoner into the sea.” Sawmta began
walking away but turned back. “The woman,” she said. She put her face
close to his, clarifying. As if there’d been misunderstandings before. “Not.
The girl.”
The brute jailer nodded quickly and grunted.
Sawmta disappeared into the darkness.
The brute followed, but not before looking back. Saylor had already
turned her back to him. “Tonight. You fly. You scream. You die.”
A hiss from up the corridor sounded. The brute scurried to obey the
princess’s summons, kicking the vagar as he passed.
The words spewed out of Saylor before she could stop them. “You
smelly, oaf-brained, ogre-reeking troll. I hope you stub your toe on a rock
and fall on your face.”
The woman in the next cell chuckled. “It’d improve his looks, that’s for
certain.”
“So my sister intends to kill you.”
“Ooo. Big surprise.”
“I have to get you out of here,” Saylor said.
“There’s nothing you can do. You heard the lady. I’m going to die
tonight.”
“Not if I can help it.”
 An idea came to Saylor. It seemed so far-fetched she almost dismissed it.
Then realized it might be their only chance to escape.
The vagar lay in a heap just outside the bars of her cell. She could
practically touch it. Though she didn’t dare stick her hand through the bars.
She remembered Breiton’s missing hand. She’d like to keep hers attached to
her arm.
It looked like the vagar was barely alive.
“Why did your master hurt you? You were only doing as you were told,”
Saylor said to the vagar. “Come closer. Maybe I can mend your wing.”
“Yeah. Then maybe it can grab that fat brute and drop him into the sea,”
the lady in the cell said sarcastically.
Saylor ignored the comment. “Come on. I won’t hurt you.”
“Why would you help it? Isn’t that the vagar who brought you here?”
Saylor ignored the woman again, reaching between the bars toward the
vagar. It flinched at her touch and snarled but didn’t strike.
“Now stop that, Mister Vagar. I’m trying to help you.”
Saylor looked directly in the vagar’s face.
“Come closer. Come on.”
It started to inch her way. She felt its vileness decreasing.
“There you go,” she said sweetly, when the vagar scooted another foot
toward her. “That’s it. Now give me that wing. Don’t be shy.”
The vagar winced as it extended its wing. Saylor ran soft fingers across
its scaly and rough skin, feeling her way toward the broken bones. She
could feel the crook in the wing and let her fingers gently rest over the
broken shards of bone beneath the skin.
She closed her eyes, hoping to imbue her energy and life force into this
wretched creature, like a slave might to its master. It didn’t make sense, but
it didn’t have to. Her sister might be evil, but Saylor refused to give in to
that characteristic which obviously ran in their family. Even the vilest
creature deserved mercy and she’d give it whenever she could.
Unlike the previous times Saylor had performed a healing, something
different happened this time. Inside her mind’s eye, she saw the shattered
bones, and using her will, commanded them to join back together. As they
did so, she felt her spirit delve deeper into the creature and reach into the
depths of its soul to touch the core of its heart that seemed to require the
most healing.
A calm descended on her and the creature. It no longer shuddered at her
touch. The bones mended. It breathed out a long deep sigh. Saylor thought
she saw a smile on its face.
“Now that is something I had to see to believe,” the woman in the cell
said.
Saylor opened her eyes and gasped. The black skin of the vagar had
turned white. Instead of snarling, it seemed to purr. It wriggled its head
toward her, its bright green eyes no longer red.
Before Saylor could say anything, the jailor’s footsteps sounded as he
headed their way. Her eyes went wide. She began beckoning to the vagar.
“If you can, squeeze through the bars. You have to hide. You don’t want
him to see you like this.”
It tried but couldn’t, its torso was too large. Slightly panicked, Saylor
scanned the jail. She noticed another exit. She hadn’t seen it before because
it was in the corner of the darkest section of the cave.
“Hurry and flee that way,” Saylor said.
The vagar sped away, showing no effects of his injuries that seemed to be
completely gone. It disappeared through the exit just as the brute stepped
into view.
“Ah,” the woman in the cell said, “the stinky troll is back. You know, for
a second, I was hoping your master threw you into the sea. You could use a
bath. You stink.”
The brute had a set of keys in his hands. He began to unlock the woman’s
cell door.
Saylor let out a shriek. She pushed hard on her own door trying to pry it
open. The bars were too strong.
“It’s not nighttime yet,” the woman said.
“Close enough,” the brute snorted.
“Don’t touch me, you filthy brute,” the woman said, defiantly.
 “So you want to do this the hard way,” he said. “I’m good with that.
Maybe I’ll snap your neck first before tossing you off the cliff. Or maybe
I’ll make you suffer for half the night. I look forward to hearing your
screams.”
“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” she said, though without as much
conviction. She grew quiet, as if knowing that’s exactly what was about to
happen.
Saylor heard the woman back away from the cell doors. She screamed as
the brute grabbed a fistful of her black hair and dragged her out of the cell.
She clung to his wrist, trying to ease the pressure on her scalp. Brown boots
kicking against the stone to try and stand upright.
A white blur flashed in the corner of Saylor’s eye.
The vagar.
The brute didn’t see it, until it was too late.
The vagar flew through the air, its claws outstretched. It landed on the
brute’s head and began thrashing it from side to side. Striking at his eyes.
So he couldn’t see.
Saylor screamed out. “No, vagar! Stop! Don’t do that!”
The vagar didn’t listen. It hovered over the brute. Out of reach. The brute
waved his arms wildly but didn’t hit anything.
The vagar struck blow after blow with its tail. With each blow, Saylor
winced. Both from the horror of it. But also as if she could feel the vagar’s
rage inside. Again she cried out for it to stop.
It ignored her.
The brute dropped to his knees and keeled over, landing on his face with
a loud thwack. Wheezing. Struggling to breathe.
Tears began filling Saylor’s eyes.
The woman was standing now and had the presence of mind to grab the
keys that had fallen to the floor. She used them to open Saylor’s cell door.
“Hurry!” the woman said. “More could be on the way.”
But Saylor couldn’t hurry. She fell to her knees beside the dying brute,
unable to look away from the blood that stained his face.
 “Everybody has a master,” Saylor whispered. “He was just a slave doing
her bidding.”
“Yeah, well, I feel no remorse,” the woman said, spitting toward the
brute.
“About the only thing I feel is remorse.”
The vagar stood off to the side, a look of satisfaction on its face. Saylor
turned her tear-stained eyes toward it and shook her head. “That is not the
way to help me.”
The vagar dropped his head. Like a child rebuked.
Deep in the cave, someone with a deep voice called for the jailer to join
them. Saylor didn’t know what to do. Reaching down, she touched the brow
of the brute, his skin cold and clammy.
“What are you doing?” the woman said. “We don’t have time for this!”
Saylor didn’t move. The woman began rifling through the shelves,
searching for anything that might be of use. Bits of rope. A rusty knife.
Chunks of stale bread. Moldy cheese.
The other brute deep in the cave called out again, sounding nearer. The
woman stopped looking and bundled up what she found in a fragment of
dirty cloth.
Saylor seemed to not have heard the other brutes.
The woman stamped her foot. “You know what, princess? You are on
your own. Your pet vagar saved me. Then I let you out of your cell. We’re
even. Good luck.”
The woman began heading toward the cave exit.
Still Saylor remained. Hands on the brute. His life force gone.
“Is this what it means to be a princess?” she said, her voice soft, full of
sorrow. “People either dying on my behalf or killing on my account?”
The woman sighed and stopped. “For holy feathers sakes, Saylor. I don’t
know. I’m not a princess. But it would seem to me that if someone does die
for you or is killed for you, you would make their death meaningless and in
vain if you then allowed yourself to be captured or killed. So how about we
go and feel sorry for ourselves later?”
 Saylor sighed and nodded, slowly rising to her feet, the bottom hems of
her dress stained with dirt and the brute’s blood. Saylor began vigorously
trying to wipe it clean. Getting her hands dirty and bloody. Not getting her
dress clean.
Shaking her head, the woman began rummaging through a wooden chest
as the voice of another brute grew closer. His voice of concern now echoed
by several others.
“There,” the woman said, dropping off a pair of leather breeches, a gray
blouse, a cloak, and a pair of brown boots. “Put these on or you’ll never
make it up the trail.”
Seeing the clothes as the best alternative to rid herself of the horrible and
stained and wretched dress, Saylor composed herself and tore free of the
fabric. A moment later, she and the woman raced back toward the entrance,
Saylor now wearing the clothes of someone else that had likely died on her
account. Unless she fled naked, there’d be no escaping it.
“Are we going to sprout wings and fly?” Saylor said.
“How do you think I got down here?”
“You flew?”
“What?” said the woman, confused. “No.”
They rounded a corner, out of sight of the dead brute, just as his
companions arrived. They began shouting at each other angrily. And
fearfully. Not understanding what had viciously attacked the jailer. One
began giving orders to the others to search everywhere.
The roar of the sea grew louder as they raced toward the cave edge.
Saylor glanced behind in time to see the vagar leaping toward her, as if
trying to carry her.
Saylor ducked aside. “No, white vagar. You will not help me anymore.”
Her anger built. She was not like Sawmta. She would not give over to the
darkness inside her.
“And you will most definitely not kill! ANYONE! Now go away!”
The woman was staring at her, brow raised. “Well, Princess. Thanks for
staying quiet and helping us escape. I doubt anyone heard your voice
echoing through the cave.”
 As the vagar flew out of the cave, the woman pulled Saylor to the side of
the opening, onto a narrow ledge. The path upward was not more than a
foot wide. As they shimmied along, another ugly brute stuck his head out.
Seeing Saylor, he reached for her, just missing her cloak.
He went back in and called out to his friends.
“Great,” the woman said.
“He’s too big to go this way.”
“Makes you wonder how they got down there.”
They looked at each other. As the woman said, “There must be a second
entrance,” Saylor said, “There’s another way out.”
“We need to hurry,” the woman said.
Saylor hurried to follow the woman, who seemed at ease on the narrow
path. Two brutes stuck their heads out of the cave. They began hurling
stones at the girls. Saylor ducked and slipped, almost falling. The woman
pulled her faster. Another stone smashed against the cliff face just above her
head.
A third brute emerged. This one smaller. After some threats, the large two
forced him onto the ledge. Then they disappeared. Likely to go toward the
second entrance.
The smaller brute seemed to be gaining. Saylor struggled to climb up the
steep path, her strength less, her strides smaller.
Now only a body length above him, the brute grabbed for her foot. She
moved it out of the way. He leaped. Except, he didn’t land on the ledge.
He slipped. The crashing of the waves drowned out his screams.
“It’s either him or us,” the woman said. “Come on. We’re almost there.”
Saylor glanced upward, cringing at the distance that the woman claimed
qualified as almost there.
“Are you second-guessing your decision to send the vagar away? It’d be
a lot easier than climbing,” the woman said.
“My sister used that creature to do her dark bidding. I will not do the
same.”
“Ok, but…”
 “I did not heal the vagar only to have it put on the yoke of another master.
Now hurry, before I step on your heels.”
The woman began climbing.
True to her word, they reached the top of the cliff a short while later.
Though wanting to take a breather, the woman wouldn’t let her. Pulling her
to follow as she sprinted toward the nearby forest.
The sun now completely gone, darkness covered their escape. Saylor
pulled the leather cloak closer. Pulling the hood up over her head.
Hopefully shielding her aura.
As they reached the edge of the forest, they heard the angry cries of the
brutes.
Ducking behind a tree to watch and be silent, the woman, panting as
much as Saylor, said, “Their secret entrance must be the long way in. And
safer. If I had known that, maybe I wouldn’t have been caught.”
“But then I never would have met you,” Saylor said. “And who else
would’ve helped me escape from there.”
“We’re not out of the woods yet.”
Saylor eyed her sideways, smirking. “Nice. And I thought we were
heading into the woods.”
“What?” The woman paused. Then chuckled. “Yes. I get it. Come on.”
They moved deeper into the woods. Soon, the cries from the jailers grew
softer. Then they heard them no more.
The woman pushed a little further before stopping beneath a large tree.
They crouched down, remaining silent. Listening for the sounds of pursuit.
“Okay,” the woman said, standing. Relaxing. Speaking in a normal
volume. “I think we’re good for a couple hours. We should sleep. Then in
the morning, you’re on your own.”
Saylor nodded and stood.
“Thanks. Um, what is your name?”
“Mawtsa.”
“It’s nice to finally make your acquaintance.”
“Likewise. I guess.”
Before the woman could react, Saylor threw her arms around her torso.
 “Whoa. Whoa. Hey, now,” the woman said, her hands up. “What is this?”
“This is a hug. Have you never had a hug before?”
“Yes. But not to just anyone. We’re practically strangers.”
“Come now. All you have to do is put your arms around my back.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“To thank you. To tell you how sorry I am about your sister.”
Saylor pressed her head against Mawtsa’s chest. She inhaled blissfully, as
if needing a hug herself. Her brief intake of air told her what she needed to
know.
“And that I feel awful for running from mine,” said Saylor. “If I hadn’t
…”
“You live in the world of remorse. I get it. But you can stop that now.”
Saylor let go and backed up. Mawtsa began gathering boughs to make a
bed.
“You were right about one thing, Mawtsa.”
“I’m right about everything. But what specifically?”
“We did share the same lodgings. Which you said means we both are
kind of special. And that means we aren’t practically strangers. But
practically sisters.”
“I did not say that. Or mean that. Or imply that.”
“You have a good heart, Mawtsa. And although you say we’ll part ways
in the morning, I have a feeling you won’t leave me to fend for myself
against my evil sister and her hoard of foul-smelling brutes.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“You didn’t abandon your sister. You won’t abandon me.”
Mawtsa groaned. “Fine. I’ll help you find the road back to wherever you
came from. But that’s it, Saylor. No further.”
“I can’t wait for you to meet my friends.”
“Not sure I’m looking forward to that. One of them betrayed you.
Remember?”
“Details, Mawtsa. Details.”

***
 Moments later, soft wheezing and snores indicated that Saylor had fallen
asleep.
Mawtsa shook her head and sighed, marveling at the incredible faith of
the young girl. That or the extreme naivete. Trusting implicitly the woman
whose lap she was using as a pillow wouldn’t hand her over to the one
seeking her.
Mawtsa leaned her head back against the tree. The trusting girl stirred.
The hood moving from her face. A thin and faint beam of white light fell
from the heavens to touch Saylor’s uncovered skin.
Mawtsa made no move to shield the light with the skin of the animal
cloak keeping her warm. Curious, Mawtsa reached toward the pale beam.
The particles of light seemed to dance on and around her hand, bits of it
sparkling as if her hand were made of diamonds.
Mawtsa made a fist, as if trying to strangle and control the light. Instead,
her fingers and palm glowed a bright yellow, gleaming as if her hand was
made of the finest gold.
Far off in the distance, a wolf howled, its bay long. Eerie.
Mawtsa gasped and yanked her hand away. The golden glow faded.
Mawtsa pulled the hood back over Saylor’s face. Cutting off her light.
Eyes still close, the girl spoke. Her voice soft. Relaxed. “Don’t worry.
That’s just my friend the great gray wolf telling me that all is well.”
“You make the strangest friends.”
“I know,” Saylor said, cuddling closer. “That’s why we’re friends.”

OceanofPDF.com
 21
In Search of Answers

The furry brown rabbit sat munching on a fruit fallen from the nearby tree.
One foot placed quietly after the other, Saylor inched closer. Needing a
clean view. Free of branches. Pulling back the string of her bow quietly,
trying to reduce the sound of wood against wood, she aimed the blunt tip at
the unsuspecting animal.
Her fingers relaxed, slowly releasing the string. The crooked arrow
slipped from between her index and middle fingers and shot toward the
target.
A perfect hit. On the head. Killing the rabbit on impact.
Smiling triumphantly, Saylor carried the dead animal back to the camp.
Toward the fire under the boughs of a spruce to disperse the smoke.
Mawtsa grinned. “Wow. That’s the third one in as many days.”
“I’ve never had this sort of luck before. This is good wood for a bow.
Though it’s just a sapling. All I had to do was carve some nocks into the
tips. When I have some time, I’ll carve a better one.”
“It seems to work well for hares. That bread I took didn’t last long.”
“I’m glad you took the knife. There’s lots of food for animals. Not much
fruit. The most I find are poisonous.”
Saylor set to skinning the rabbit. Putting it on a spit over the flames.
Leaning against a tree, Mawtsa watched closely.
“What?” Saylor said, feeling eyes upon her.
“Nothing. You seem quite content.”
“I grew up in the woods and mountains.”
“I know. You keep reminding me. Every chance you get.”
“Well, it’s true. This is my home. Not some fancy palace with servants to
do everything for me.”
 “For how long?”
Saylor grimaced. “You keep asking me that. I don’t know.”
“You have people looking for you, Saylor. They’re worried.”
Crossing her arms, Saylor stood. “You think I don’t know that? But if my
sister can’t find me, then who do you think she’ll look for instead? And I
was stupid enough to tell her how much I care for Alana.”
“Ok. Think about that logic for a sec. If Sawmta can’t find you, she’ll
find Alana and hurt her to draw you out. Or if she can’t find you, your sister
will look for Alana to see if she’s with you. Either way, she’ll still look for
Alana. But if you’re with her when she does then you can protect her.”
“That’s assuming my sister is sane and would follow basic logic. She
may hurt Alana just out of spite.”
“Maybe. There’s a chance she won’t harm her at all. But you know which
option will result for sure in Alana being harmed.”
“Or I tell her to go back into the mountains and go into hiding and never
see her again.”
“Sure. You think she’ll go for it?”
Saylor sighed. “No.”
“I mean, where are we even going if not back to your friends?”
“I thought you said I couldn’t trust them.”
“You can’t trust your sister will leave them alone.”
Saylor slumped to the ground, the leaves blowing out as she landed.
“Fine. We’ll go back to Balladin.”
“The road would be faster.”
“True. But my sister will be looking for me on the road. So keeping to the
woods is safer. Yet we’re still close enough to see any travelers.”
Mawtsa threw her hands up. “Fine. Whatever. It’s not like I have a home
to go back to.”
“What about your father?”
Mawtsa shook her head. “I lied about that. He’s been gone for years now.
And my mother. Passed away at about the same time. The princess
destroyed my only reason for living. So I have nothing better to do than
escort a little girl to safety who doesn’t seem to want to be rescued.”
 Saylor flopped to the bed of leaves, staring at the branches high above.
“Okay. We’ll head toward the road. We haven’t seen anyone for days,
anyway. My sister probably isn’t looking this way. Thinking only a dumb
stupid princess would take the obvious route back to Balladin. But since
that is what I am, what the heck? Let’s try it.”
Instead of sympathy, Mawtsa chuckled and began softly chiding and
mocking her. “Hey, everybody. Woe is me. I’m a dumb stupid princess. Still
crying over the death of my future husband and future troll babies.”
“I am not,” Saylor said. A smile creeping onto her lips. “Just shut up and
eat your roasted rabbit. Try not to choke on it.”
After eating, they doused the flames by squeezing water out of a soaked
piece of cloth and headed toward the road. The coast clear, they began
making the trek to Balladin. Mawtsa thought they’d get there in two days or
so.
After several minutes of silence, Mawtsa said, “Then what?”
That was the question plaguing Saylor’s mind. What next? She had no
clue where to go. She only knew where she couldn’t stay.
Saylor shrugged. “I was thinking of going to some island in the middle of
the ocean? Or maybe the moon.”
“Oh no. I was there. Like you, I was living with my head in the clouds.
Oblivious to all that lay below me.”
“Nice,” Saylor said, scowling. “Way to bring that back to how horrible of
a princess I am.”
“Maybe that’s my purpose in life now.”
Saylor mimicked her, but not in an amusing way. “Maybe that’s my
purpose…”
“Feathers, Saylor, you certainly are dour company. It almost makes me
wish you’d start telling me again about all the fancy dresses at the ball.”
Saylor opened her mouth to speak.
“Almost,” Mawtsa said, cutting her off.
“Other than making it your mission in life to annoy me,” Saylor said,
“what would you do with your life?”
“Oof,” Mawtsa said.
 She picked up a stone and hurled it over the cliff edge running parallel to
the road.
“Now I have to sound like I know what’s important. I guess, if I had the
means, I’d try to find a way to stop Princess Sawmta from ever hurting any
more little girls. Or boys. Anyone, for that matter.”
Saylor’s eyes narrowed as she grew serious. She nodded. “I agree. So
how would you do that? Punch her square in that perfectly shaped nose
stuck high in the air?”
“Oh no. She’s too powerful. She may be using dark magic. Some say
she’s allied herself with a dark necromancer.”
“Wow. I hadn’t heard that. Then how?”
“I’d try to find someone who is just as powerful. Who can match her in
strength.”
“Like the Brightness Queen.”
“Do you know of anyone else?”
Saylor grew somber. Trying to think if someone else did exist. She for
certain didn’t have the ability to face Sawmta. Not even close. Not even the
wolfman could if the princess had dark magic and was allied with a
necromancer. What sort of grip did he have on her sister?
A cool breeze blew inland from the ocean nearby, running across the
barren landscape. A stark contrast to the dense forest they just emerged
from.
The wind brought a temporary refreshing. Mawtsa’s short black hair, now
untethered, blew easily in the breeze. As they progressed further north, the
temperature dropped, the breeze biting and cold. Mawtsa’s arms were laid
bare by the sleeveless tunic she wore, its thick leather keeping only her
torso warm. She didn’t seem to be affected by the chill.
Saylor shivered beneath the wind’s frigid breath and pulled the thin
leather cloak tighter. They couldn’t make steady progress because the road
soon became filled with a steady stream of travelers. Concerned someone
might see her light or recognize her, they kept hiding in the trees until the
travelers passed.
That grew tiresome.
 As the day began giving way to the night, the thunder of hooves ahead
startled them. Once again, Mawtsa grabbed Saylor by the arm and pulled
her to the side of the road. They slumped down behind a boulder. Mawtsa
used her cloak to hide Saylor’s head.
Ordering Saylor to stay close to the ground, Mawtsa peeked over the
boulder. Coming from the west, a score of soldiers on horseback rode
toward their position. As they neared, Mawtsa frowned. The one leading
them wasn’t a soldier.
“That must be the wolfman,” she muttered under her breath.
Despite having a partial desire to stay in the woods, when she saw the
wolfman, Saylor thought of Alana and how fond she was of both of them.
How worried they must be about her. Not wanting them to search forever,
she rose and waved them down.
The caravan stopped. Saylor took off her hood to the wolfman’s surprise.
He took one look at Mawtsa and another long glare at Saylor.
“Let her go,” he growled menacingly to Mawtsa.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Saylor said. “I am unharmed and quite well. This is
Mawtsa. She helped me escape from Princess Sawmta, the one who
commanded the vagars to take me from the ball. She’s my friend and is
coming with us. I hope you brought a few extra horses.”
The wolfman dismounted as several more riders approached, with
Krayston leading them.
Alana, wearing a brown riding dress, dismounted, and rushed toward
Saylor before the wolfman could stop her.
Saylor and Alana embraced, tears in both of their eyes.
The wolfman eyed Mawtsa warily until the reunion was over. Krayston
hopped to the dirt and stood next to the wolfman. His hand readied on his
own sword. Something was different about Krayston. He seemed more
confident and surer of himself.
Alana and Saylor hugged again.
“Alana,” Saylor said. “How I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. We were worried about you.”
“I can’t wait to tell you all about it.”
 Mawtsa shook her head and half-grinned.
“This is my friend, Mawtsa,” Saylor said. “This is Alana. She’s the
wolfman’s daughter.”
“Good to meet you,” Mawtsa said.
Alana grinned and nodded her head in greeting then turned her attention
to Saylor. Holding her at arm’s length, looking her up and down.
“What are these dreadful clothes you’re wearing? Where is your lovely
dress?”
Before Saylor could reply, Alana said, “You know what? It doesn’t
matter. What matters is that you’re safe. Come. You will ride with me. I
may have an extra dress as well.”
Alana took Saylor’s hand and led her past the wolfman toward a gray
horse.
The wolfman waved to someone behind the formation. A moment later,
he took the reins of a roan and offered Mawtsa the horse. She nodded her
thanks and mounted easily, with the bearing of someone accustomed to the
saddle.
His brow wrinkled as he studied her.
Mawtsa half-grinned. “Should I also call you Wolfman instead of your
real name?”
“Did Saylor tell you my name?”
Mawtsa shook her head. “I don’t think she knew. But Princess Sawmta
knows who you are, Sir Vendasi Silver.”
“I am no longer a knight. The man the princess knew no longer exists.”
“Of course, he does,” Mawtsa said. “He’s simply changed. I’m sure the
princess has changed quite a lot since last you saw her.”
“No,” he said gravely, staring off into the distance. “She may have been
only a child, but I expect she hasn’t changed a bit, and never will.”
He cleared his throat and came back to the present. “Anyway, Mawtsa,
I’m grateful to you for helping Saylor escape from her clutches.”
Mawtsa shrugged. “Think nothing of it.”
He nodded. “I’m curious, though. What kind of assistance can we expect
from you now?”
 Alana and Saylor rode directly behind the wolfman and could hear the
entire conversation.
“She helps get me out of trouble,” Saylor said, answering the question for
her.
The wolfman raised an eyebrow. “Really? In that case, welcome. We
could use the help since that is proving to be a full-time job.”
“The job of protecting the daughter of the Brightness Queen? Ah,
Vendasi. No. I’ll leave that to you. That’s not a responsibility I relish. If I
failed and she died or was captured or kidnapped while on my watch, I
don’t think I could live with myself. Let alone be brave enough to ask for a
second chance.”
He eyed her warily.
She smiled, easing the tension. “Don’t worry, Vendasi, I’m only traveling
as far as Balladin. And only because she asked me to.”
He grunted and nodded, then motioned with his hand. The soldiers
formed around Saylor and Alana who didn’t stop talking to each other. The
party thundered down the road, heading west. Alana relayed all that had
transpired after Saylor had been wrested from the Lord Regent’s manor.
Saylor barely heard any of it. Too lost in thought. She thought after
seeing Alana again, she’d know what to do. In a way, Saylor did. It
confirmed it. She just didn’t know how to tell her.
She became aware of Alana looking back at her, as if waiting for her to
answer a question.
“I’m sorry. Say it again?” Saylor said.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m tired. It’s been a long couple of days.”
“Oh my gosh. Feathers, you are right. I’ll tell my father to stop and make
camp right now if you want. Krayston will do whatever I ask him to do.
He’ll think it’s a good idea as well.”
Saylor shook her head. “Let’s just get back to Balladin as fast as we can.”
The wolfman had heard them talking and stopped the procession waiting
for instructions. Alana signaled her father. He nodded and gave the order.
The horses thundered back down the road.
 Nightfall descended rather quickly, so they stopped to make camp. Not
wanting to get into a conversation about anything, Saylor went to bed as
soon as possible. Though she didn’t fall asleep right away.
The next day she wished she had gotten more sleep. The second day of
their journey was not joyous. Without warning it began to rain. There’d
been no thunder or lightning in the sky. In the early hours of the morning,
the wind picked up and pushed the clouds over the mountains to dump their
contents on the travelers.
Saylor was tucked inside a thick leather and fur cloak that did a fair job
of keeping out the moisture but a poor job of keeping in her body heat.
Alana tried to match the captain’s enthusiasm at first, but the weather soon
cowed her into a silent stupor. She barely said a word the entire day.
Not even the hardened soldiers could withstand the gloom of the rain.
Saylor peeked from behind the hood ever so often to study the sky, hoping
to see a crack in the cloud cover.
It seemed the only person not affected by the rain was Mawtsa. She rode
upright in her saddle, letting the rain fall onto her uncovered head at times.
Sometimes, she closed her eyes and pointed her face toward the heavens,
inviting the cold drops from the sky to blanket her skin. And other times she
made wry jokes about the weather and the gloomy soldiers.
After another night of little sleep, the following day started out much the
same. More rain and more wind. Enough wind that even Mawtsa kept her
hood up most of the time, though the rain didn’t stop her from commenting
on it.
By the end of the third day of traveling in the rain—a journey the
wolfman said should have taken only two days—they reached Balladin. The
rain had reduced itself to a drizzle, the wind to a dull gale.
The streets were empty, the residents having closed their shops due to the
inclement weather. Inside the city, the buildings broke up the wind. Saylor
saw the faces of many a child pressed against the glass of their windows,
wondering who was crazy enough to travel in the downpour.
The following evening, Saylor was sitting in Alana’s bedroom on the
second floor of her house. Staring out the window. The rain continued to
beat against the glass. Almost obscuring the soldiers getting soaked as they
kept watch around the house.
She’d said little and eaten even less. Alana gave up trying to force food
into her. She mostly stayed downstairs with her father, sitting around the
hearth.
Mawtsa had disappeared, not wanting to eat or sleep on someone else’s
coin. She’d promised she’d say goodbye before leaving town. But that was
only spoken aloud for Alana’s and the wolfman’s sake.
Saylor planned on leaving with Mawtsa as soon as she had an inkling
where to go. Despite Mawtsa’s sound logic that Alana was safer with
Saylor, on the journey back, she decided Alana would be better off with her
father. Saylor simply had to get the courage to tell her so.
A knock sounded on the main door. A moment later, the wolfman came
upstairs, telling Saylor to come downstairs. Having no reason not to, she
bundled up beneath the thickest and furriest leather cloak possible. Not
giving her aura a snowflake’s chance in hell of shining out.
Mounting in the rain and surrounded by an entire contingent of drenched
soldiers, the wolfman led her through the desolate streets, down to the
wharf. A soldier waiting there told Saylor that Avalon had been expecting
her. They reached the pier and the wolfman pointed down it.
“Avalon’s here?” Saylor said, shivering against the wind coming off the
sea. Glad the rain had abated for the moment.
He nodded.
At the far edge of the dock, two figures stood. One, a man, who leaned
casually against a large pillion, sharpening his sword. Past him, near the
edge of the wooden planks and staring out to sea stood Avalon, wearing a
deep purple cloak, the hood up over her head.
Saylor walked toward them alone, glad to be moving her legs that had
grown stiff from sitting inside all day. Each gust of wind blew through her
damp clothes, chilling her to the bone.
As she approached the soldier standing guard, she recognized him
immediately. He grinned brightly and nodded, raising his right hand to
wave. Or rather, he raised his right arm, the hand missing.
 She returned his smile and nod, then said, “Hello Breiton. It’s good to see
you.”
He bowed dutifully.
“Your Majesty.”
She touched his shoulder as she passed by. Felt a twinge of guilt that she
hadn’t been able to heal his hand. Was it because she didn’t have the power
or because she didn’t know how to use it properly?
Breiton cleared his throat and spoke louder. “Dutchess Daewood, the
Princess is here.”
The Dutchess responded with a barely perceptible sound. Wisps of
Avalon’s hair escaped the purple hood to float in the incoming breeze.
Unlike Saylor, it seemed the rain barely touched her. The drops of moisture
danced away from her serene face in much the same way as they did when
touching the material of her cloak.
Saylor took Avalon’s cold hand in her own, unsure if she’d be receptive,
half-afraid to interrupt her silent reverie.
Avalon squeezed Saylor’s hand and curtsied.
“I’ve been waiting to speak with you, Your Majesty. I’m pleased that you
are safe.”
“It’s wonderful to see you, I don’t understand why you aren’t at home in
this weather.”
“Home,” Avalon said wistfully, looking off in the distance. She let out a
long easy breath. “I’ve never felt more at home than when sailing the sea
like I did with my father.”
“I am so sorry about your father. I feel like it’s my fault your parents are
dead.”
Avalon gave Saylor’s hand another squeeze and turned her face toward
her.
“No, Your Majesty,” she said, her tone serious and hard. “Please don’t
speak like that. Dark forces are moving in the world. Dark forces killed my
parents. That’s why I’ve been waiting for you, to warn you and give you
counsel, if you’ll have it.”
“I thought a vagar killed your father.”
 “No. It only appeared as such. It was dark magic that killed both of my
parents. Not a measly vagar.”
“A vagar tried to kill you as well. I saw the wounds.”
Avalon sighed, trying to find the right way to begin. “Yes.”
“How is your injury?”
“Completely healed, Your Majesty. And therein lies the danger. Those of
my kind should be impervious to the power you wield. You should not have
been able to heal me.”
“Your kind? What’s different about your family or people?”
Instead of answering directly, she faced the man standing guard and said,
“Breiton, please unsheathe your dagger.”
Breiton nodded and pulled from his boot a simple and shiny double-
edged blade, twirling it in his hand to hold it by the honed steel, pointing
the hilt toward Avalon as he approached her.
Avalon rolled up the sleeve of her dress and held her arm out toward him,
palm up, fingers clenched in a fist. “Take the blade and slice my skin,
please.”
Breiton paused, drawing back the blade.
“Fear not,” Avalon said, “You can’t hurt me.”
He shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter whether I hurt you or not, My Lady. It’d violate my
vows to keep you safe if I even attempted to harm you. I would turn this
dagger on myself and cut out my own heart if you desired because I trust
you and believe you’d only order such a thing if you thought it the best way
to serve you and the kingdom. But I’ll never ever point a sword in your
direction. Even if you command me to. If that is unsatisfactory, you may
dismiss me from my service, and I’ll leave and never lift a weapon again.”
Avalon smiled thinly with her lips and with her eyes as she opened her
hand.
“Give me the blade then.”
Breiton laid the hilt of the cold dagger in her palm, using his remaining
gloved hand to close her fingers around its handle.
 Avalon ran the blade’s sharp edge across her skin, pressing down hard
enough to indent her flesh.
Saylor winced. Breiton raised a curious brow.
Avalon removed the blade, revealing an arm free of any injury.
Saylor grabbed her wrist and examined her skin. “How is this possible?”
she said. “The knife must not be that sharp.”
“It’s as sharp as the knives you used to skin rabbits when you were in the
forest.”
“How is this possible?”
“I am part human and part ferrendra,” Avalon said. “You know us better
by faery.”
Saylor gaped. “I thought they only existed in tales.”
She shook her head.
Apparently not. Then it dawned on Saylor.
How did she know what knife I used to skin rabbits?

OceanofPDF.com
 22
The Decision

Avalon flicked the dagger behind her. Breiton snatched it, sheathed it, and
stuck it back in his boot.
“Tales of the faery are mostly fictional,” Avalon said, “though parts may
be true.”
“You are too tall to be a faery,” Saylor said.
“We have many sizes and shapes. Some faeries have wings. Others are
better suited to swim in the sea.”
“Some live underwater?” Saylor asked, glancing toward the turbulent
waters in the bay.
“Certainly not, Your Majesty. We all require air to breathe. The faeries
are present in small pockets across most of the kingdom, from swamps and
grasslands to lakes and mountains.”
“Mountains,” Saylor said. Her eyes went wide. “That’s what you meant.
You kept saying ‘your kind.’ But you also knew what knife I used to skin a
rabbit. Have the faeries been watching me?”
“Yes. We’ve known of your existence. Understand, Your Majesty, I’m
telling you this in great confidence. No one else knows. Not even our
mutual friend, the young Lord Keaston.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because you healed me, Your Majesty.”
Saylor squinted and wrinkled her brow. “I don’t follow.”
“Most elements like iron and carbon can’t penetrate my skin. That’s why
the dagger did not injure me.”
“You have magical spells and enchantments?” Saylor said.
“Not in the way you understand them. The energy that sustains our
people also protects us from certain weapons as well as from sorcery. We
never fully understood the ability the Brightness Queen and the Darkness
King possess. We always believed it to be an innate form of energy or
magic that could never affect us.”
“You mean,” Saylor said, “I shouldn’t have been able to heal you. But
since I did…”
“It means,” said Avalon, “that your ability is not based in magic or
sorcery. Therefore, it has the power to affect the faery.”
“But why would you fear me and my ability to heal?”
“It is not you and your ability that engenders me with caution. It is
someone else.”
“Like my father? Or perhaps my sister?”
“Perhaps. Your father seems to show little desire to harm anyone. And
your sister has the power of darkness like your father.”
“So, she does have the power of darkness. I thought so. But I still don’t
get it. My father and my sister might be able to make things darker, but they
don’t have the power of death, do they?” Saylor asked.
“Of death, no. Of night, yes. It is a misnomer to call your father the King
of Darkness. He is the Night King. For just as the light brings life, healing,
and growth, the night also brings rest, rejuvenation, and rebirth. Both are
essential to all life on this planet. In the beginning, after the world was
made, the being responsible divided a day into two parts, daytime, and
nighttime. The night is no more evil than the daytime is righteous. It is
dependent on the intentions of those who wield these abilities.”
Saylor nodded, pondering. “I’ve never heard it put like that before. It
makes sense. But I still don’t understand the danger posed by the Night
King.”
“Do you know what a prism will do to light, Your Majesty?”
“Yes. It’ll separate it into different colors.”
Avalon nodded. “It also weakens the beam by doing so. Do you know
what has the opposite effect on light?”
“You mean, like one of those pieces of glass that is curved or
something?”
 “Yes. A glass that magnifies the light by focusing the rays into a single
point. By doing so, the light that falls on the plants to make them grow can
be filtered through a magnifying glass that will set them aflame.”
“I’ll stay away from something like that,” Saylor quipped.
“What if something like that could focus and harness the energy of the
night? What effects would that produce?”
“I don’t know,” Saylor said.
Avalon faced the sea again, lifting her face toward the heavens.
“For instance, lightning does not affect the faery. It’s not attracted to us.
Yet, witnesses at the manor saw a single bolt of lightning strike my father
right before he died. Lightning wielded by only a sorcerer will have no
effect on the faery.”
“But lightning infused or focused with the energy of the night can,”
Saylor said, pondering its ramifications.
“Correct. After you healed me, I understood your power and suspected
what might happen if misused. Now my fears have been confirmed.”
“Who would know how to pervert the power of darkness?”
“We’ve heard rumors of a necromancer traveling the world, though
we’ve had nothing concrete to confirm his presence here in Edenisia. He
likely remains hidden because he knows the magic of the faery can harm
him, though his magic cannot harm us.”
“Until now,” Saylor said. “If the necromancer killed your mother and
father.”
“Right.”
“If that’s true, then what chance do we have against a man who can wield
lightning like that?”
“It is not a stable power that was wielded. It required a tremendous
amount of energy and likely weakened the necromancer or sorceress. It was
lacking in completeness.”
“What did it lack?”
Avalon stared directly into Saylor’s eyes and said, “It lacked the light.”
Saylor gazed toward the gray waters, now understanding Avalon’s
concern. The necromancer needed Saylor and her light. She had been right.
It was her fault in a way.
“So, that’s why they are after me,” Saylor said.
Avalon sighed. “No, Your Majesty, I’m afraid it is not you they are after.”
Saylor closed her eyes. Her shoulders slumped with the weight of this
new knowledge. When she lifted her lids, she saw Avalon gazing down at
her.
“What should I do?” Saylor said, a tear forming in her eye.
“I cannot tell you your path, Your Highness, only provide two possible
avenues. One I give as an advisor. The other as a friend.”
“I’m all ears, Avalon.”
“As a strategist and counselor regarding affairs of state and the defense of
it through military might, I advise you to stay with me. Here, the more
gifted of my people will protect you and train you to use your own power to
defend yourself and to fight your enemies.”
“That sounds like a good plan. Is there a downside?”
“You must not search for your mother, since it would be far too
dangerous to the world if she were ever found.”
“My sister will never stop searching for my mother.”
“She won’t find her.”
“The wolfman will keep looking for her.”
“A fruitless venture that will prove to be. They will not find her. And I
will not help them.”
Saylor nodded then stopped, hearing something that was unsaid. “Avalon,
are you saying you know where my real mother is?”
She nodded. Even if she hadn’t, her eyes betrayed her.
“If you know but won’t say where she is, why would you be so cruel to
tell me you know and not tell me what you know?”
“I’m sorry you think me cruel, Your Majesty.”
“No. You’re not cruel, Avalon. That’s not what I meant. If the first option
is staying here, what’s the second one?”
“The second one is more perilous and full of risk. Not just to you but to
the kingdom. Find your mother. She is powerful. But only with the use of
her light. Like you, she has no training in the use of her power to combat
dark sorcery.”
“If she is more powerful than me, then she’d be a better person to train
and fight against the dark necromancer.”
“Or your sister.”
“Assuming she’d even try to do that. What mother would want to fight
her own child?”
“Very perceptive, Your Majesty.”
“If I decide to look for my mother, will you tell me where she is?”
Avalon nodded. “I know what it is like to lose a family. If you stay with
me, you’ll long to be with your family and your training might be in vain.
After all, without family, what do we have that is worth fighting for?”
“I need to think about it.”
“I will await your decision.”
With that, Avalon left. The ride back to Alana’s house seemed longer
than the ride to the wharf. As soon as they left the pier, the rain started
again. Perhaps Avalon had some power over the weather. Maybe that was
something Saylor could learn.
When Saylor entered the house and removed her soaked cloak, Alana
stood facing her. Half smiling. Expectant. Worried.
Saylor sighed. It was best to get this over with.
“I’ve come to say goodbye,” Saylor said. Her decision made. She was
going to find her mother.
Alana rushed forward to take Saylor’s arm. Standing by her side, they
both faced the interior of the house.
“I agree. Goodbye, house,” Alana said. “How droll. How boring. Who
wants to live day to day with a solid and non-leaky roof over their head. I
certainly don’t.”
“But Alana,” Saylor said, a tear forming in her eye.
“Saylor, Saylor, Saylor. You think I don’t know what’s going on with
you? I’m your friend. I know.”
“It’s too dangerous, Alana. Go back into the mountains until I can find
my mother. I have to go alone.”
 “Of course you do. And I have to go alone with you. And my father will
go alone with you. And probably Mawtsa, though I’m not sure why, will
travel alone with you.”
Saylor grinned sadly. “Alana, that is the very opposite of what traveling
alone means.”
“Nonsense. We will all be traveling alone. We’ll just happen to be in the
same space at the same time, heading coincidentally in the same direction.
But each of us will be completely and utterly alone.”
Saylor couldn’t beat that logic. Probably the most complexly simple logic
she’d ever heard in her life.
“Fine. We shall all travel alone. Together.” Saylor glanced at the
wolfman. “Um. Your father is smiling. Like, almost too much.”
Alana rested the side of her head against Saylor’s, as they both stared at
him. He grunted. Or growled. And turned to wringing out her damp cloak.
“Well, that’s because, if we find your mother. Then I find mine. And he
finds his wife.”
Saylor’s eyes went wide. But before she could express sorrow, Alana
gently slapped the back of her hand.
“Relax. We chose this. Just as we are choosing to go with you. I mean. To
travel alone with you. So stop your whining about it.”
“Some princess I am,” Saylor said. “I can’t even tell my best friend what
to do. Just promise me one thing, Alana.”
“Anything.”
“Don’t let me ever conceive of doing anything so stupid again in my
life.”
“You mean like choosing to follow a wolf. Then jumping into a frozen
river. Heading out into a snowstorm not properly clothed. Not cutting the
rope bridge with helvers on our tail. Announcing to the world that you are
the princess right after an attack. Running away from soldiers right into the
clutches of a vagar. Deciding to go off on your own to find your mother.
You mean like those things?”
Squinting and smirking, Saylor shook her head. “Yes, Alana. Like those
things.”
“I’ll have my work cut out for me. But I promise to give it a try.”

Not The End

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 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michael Edmond enjoys reading all sorts of books to his children, and they
love coming up with ideas for their own tales. After writing The Search for
Planet Mysterious for his son using bits of his son’s imagination, Michael’s
daughter asked for a story about a princess who is the daughter of the
missing Brightness Queen. Putting some of his other stories meant for a
more grown-up audience on the back burner, Edmond began writing The
Princess and her Light. Now, he has little time to focus on anything but
writing the sequels to the books he wrote for his children.

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