"Galdreth," Fin called to the stablehand in the loft.
Galdreth peeked over a hay bale, stifling a yawn.
"Fin?"
"How did he sleep through that?" Sofia muttered.
"We're moving again."
"At midnight?" Galdreth asked.
"Yes."
"Of course, Sir."
Galdreth yawned and descended from the loft, packed bag in hand.
Sofia called out, "Why have him sleep in the stables?"
Fin only shrugged in response.
"I asked to sleep in the stables," Galdreth answered and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Horses are quieter than people."
Galdreth saddled the roan gelding and soothed him with a pat.
'Why does he already have a bag packed?'
The question lingered uneasily in her chest.
Lina glanced at Galdreth, her brows drawing together. She was about to ask, but caught Fin watching her with a faintly amused look, as if he'd guessed her question.
Galdreth, noticing her gaze, gave a quick shrug, saying, "Sometimes it's better to be ready."
The answer seemed too simple, and Lina felt her suspicion deepen.
"She'll get you where you need to go," Galdreth said and handed Lina a set of reins.
She blushed as the pinto mare, a brown patch covering one eye, tossed her head.
"I don't know how to ride," Lina admitted.
"We'll go slow."
Sofia tossed her leg over a saddled chestnut mare.
Galdreth patted the pinto's neck and whispered, "Chewy is too old to give you much trouble. Focus on holding your seat."
"All right."
Galdreth boosted her onto the mare, then readied his own horse.
Lina breathed deep, settling into the saddle despite the protesting leather.
'It can't be that bad,' she thought, gripping the reins too tightly.
'If you don't want to get tossed, don't pull or squeeze too hard.'
She swallowed, realizing how little control she had—even over her horse.
Fin directed his horse out of the stables. Chewy followed without prompting. Lina yelped, dropped the reins, and grabbed the pommel.
'You're leaving.'
Her grip tightened on the pommel.
'Yes.'
Anxiety clenched her chest as she stared ahead.
'Where are you going?'
"I don't—" Lina paused, "Where are we going, Fin?"
"What are you reacting to?" Sofia asked from the back of their small procession. Her gaze lingered longer than necessary.
Lina shook her head and smiled weakly. "Stress."
"Breathe and settle in your seat," Galdreth advised.
Lina tried to relax, lowering her shoulders and easing the tension in her back.
Sofia persisted, "It's more than that."
Fin interrupted, "Briarwood."
The group continued on in silence.
'Isn't Briarwood outside of the kingdom?'
'It's not in any kingdom,' Raithe answered. 'Mostly farmland. Supplies both kingdoms. If Eryndor moved to claim it, Avelis would bring the war to Eryndor's soil.'
The way he spoke—calm, certain—made something in her chest tighten.
'Why hasn't Avelis fought on Eryndor soil?'
'Eryndor started the war to annex Avelis and steal resources,' Raithe explained. 'Eryndor has nothing Avelis wants. And Eryndor's nobility can't continue without expanding their borders or combining with another country.'
'The famine,' Lina whispered. 'Our lands aren't fertile enough for farms.'
A hollow ache settled in her as memories surfaced—her brother fading, eyes distant, his voice trying to soothe her through the hunger. The king called it a bad crop, but Lina remembered the hush, empty chairs, and the promise at her brother's bedside to never just accept what she was told. The promise still clung to her.
'Yes.'
'Why doesn't Eryndor trade with Avelis?'
Raithe laughed, 'Eryndor didn't like Avelis's terms.'
Lina waited for him to explain. The sun crested over the horizon. Buildings rose in the distance. She stifled a yawn, and Chewy picked up her pace.
'Avelis required they abolish the mage council and lift the ban on certain magics.'
'Like necromancy?'
Raithe paused.
'The Avelian King is a necromancer.'
Her breath caught.
She didn't know why, but the word felt heavy.
Some whispered he forged pacts with shades. Lina felt unsettled, but a secret part of her wondered what it would be like to command such magic—and why someone would.
The way he said king sounded like a curse.
'Wrath?'
Raithe chuckled, 'No one seems to know his face or name.'
A man galloped past on a black warhorse, flanks slick with sweat.
"Make way!" He ordered, "I have a message from the King of Eryndor for the lord of Briarwood."
Sofia watched him as he disappeared over the hill to the gates of Briarwood's town.
The thunder of hooves grew behind them. Fin waited for them to overtake their ragtag group.
"Eryndor soldiers headed to Briarwood?" Sofia voiced aloud. "And a messenger?"
"Did something happen at the border?" Galdreth asked.
"Isn't there something always happening at the border?" Lina asked.
'No,' Raithe replied icily.
Raithe's cold certainty twisted her stomach.
Like he knew something she didn't.
"The necromancer turns good men into puppets," Sofia sneered.
Fin continued, "Men foolish enough to fight a losing war. If our damn nobles would just sign the treaty."
Sofia's face twisted with rage. "Why would we let that monster into our kingdom?"
Raithe laughed.
Fin placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Sofia, the necromancer, isn't the only magic user Eryndor discriminates against."
She pulled her arm away and clicked for her horse to move. Fin's hand fell. Chewy followed Sofia's horse.
"I know," Sofia choked from the front of their group. "Mages are people who don't deserve to be hunted or locked in shackles. But that man isn't human."
Fin didn't reply, remaining silent.
The gates to Briarwood swung open to let them in.
"Lots of visitors today," one guard chirped.
"Any news?" Another asked.
Lina shook her head.
"Did you hear? They let him in," a woman whispered at a small fruit stall near the entrance to the fortress. "Stabbed him clean in the chest."
The reins slipped in Lina's damp hands.
Something about the words felt wrong—too close, too familiar.
Like she should understand them.
Who got stabbed?
Her mind spiraled through awful possibilities. She scanned the crowd, dread growing in the silence. Even Fin's calm face was tense, his mouth set.
"Is it safe to be in Briarwood?" Lina asked.
"I don't think it happened here," Sofia answered.
A few guards dozed off under the early morning sun.
The same tug from the night before—when the undead fell—snapped in her chest.
Closer now.
Too close.