Exile. Part 10

His gaze shot back toward the pile of supplies by the stall's entry. No wonder Thomas had insisted on the canvas tent, even though Robert had stated he could sleep rough. And no wonder Daria had waited until he was halfway out the door to thrust that extra pack in his hands, when he was too tired of waiting to take the time to inspect it. And the delay? Had Thomas been stalling to ensure that Her Royal Highness would be able to leave the estate, alone with Robert?

Impossible.

But he found himself exiting the stall, walking down to the end of the aisle, and pulling the st.u.r.dy spotted mare out of her sleep. Found himself tugging her back in the direction he had come and strapping on both packs, the canvas, and a saddle he knew would not bear a rider tonight. Found himself arguing all manner of logic in his head.

He should wait until morning and discuss this with her stepfather. But in the end, she would either win or run off anyway.

There should be an escort. A new set of armed men. But they would only attract attention and destroy any advantage gained by waiting for the palace guards to leave Transcontina. Those guards must continue to believe Aurelia was dead. Which meant she could not travel as herself. She would have to be a commoner.

Impossible.

Robert allowed his gaze to return to the sleeping figure on the back of his half-wild stallion.

There was nothing common about her.

And though she had proven she could blend in with any level of society on the streets of Tyralt City, that meant nothing across the gateway to the frontier. And she had no concept of that.

Though neither did many of the people making their way north for the first time.

Perhaps it would work. If he helped her. If she would listen to him.

Impossible.

Robert attached a lead rope from the halter of the roan to the saddle of his own horse. And retrieved Horizon's reins. Then, gently, he eased her drowsy figure forward, mounted behind her, and clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth, urging the stallion into motion.

Aurelia s.h.i.+fted, gave a soft, sleepy-headed sigh, and folded herself into Robert's arms.

Impossible.

But she was impossible.

Chapter Nine.

INTO THE LION'S JAWS AURELIA AWOKE IN ROBERT'S ARMS. SHE HAD NO idea how she had come to be there, but it felt nice. Warm. Like her entire soul had been healed. And she did not want to move in case she might lose that wonderful sensation. Or her balance. It felt like she was on horseback, though she had not ridden since- She did not want to think about that cold night. She just wanted to remain here. Awake. Free from the nightmare, where Daria had told her ... told her what?

Robert's chest s.h.i.+fted, and Aurelia snuggled deeper into it. The Daria in the dream must have been crazy. Because Robert would never leave without saying good-bye. And he could not possibly be in love- The thought jolted Aurelia from her lulled state, and her eyes flew open. The arms were real. And the chest. And those blue, blue eyes. For the first time in ten years, she almost fell off a walking horse.

She would have fallen if Robert had not grabbed her shoulder and hauled her back into his embrace. Which she had no reason-none-to accept.

She reached up and slapped him.

The grip on her shoulder released. And she dropped down of her own free will.

Onto a road. A trail, really. Through this same cursed forest, its branches, limbs, and heavy foliage pus.h.i.+ng in around her. Her feet launched into a rapid walk. Right. Left. Right. Left. She had no idea where she was going, and she did not care. She just needed to escape the young man behind her and unravel her tangled memories of the previous night.

What had happened?

How had she gotten here?

Her ankle threatened to turn on a wheel rut, and she hopped forward, biting her lip, then forced herself on, into the memories. She remembered now the horrible discussion with Daria. And being ill. And the hurried good-bye letter she had written to her mother and stepfather. Then going down to the darkness of the stables and waiting beside Horizon, rehearsing over and over what she would say to Robert when he came. But he had never arrived.

And she had longed to fall asleep but did not dare. So she had saddled and bridled Horizon and climbed onto the stallion's back.

Where she must have slept anyway. Because that was the last thing she could remember. Until waking up in Robert's arms. Which made no sense.

"Aurelia." The voice behind her was too low to the ground for him to be mounted. The sound of his steps drew nearer to her own.

"Why?" she said, staring at the needle-covered trail and cursing her voice for its trembling. "Why would you leave me without a word?"

The answer did not come. Only silence, probably Robert gathering himself mentally, thinking through what he was going to say. She hated that about him-that unfair amount of patience.

"Why?" she insisted.

His voice was almost sad. "I couldn't."

She stumbled. "But you intended to."

His hand clutched at her elbow. "Aurelia, I want you to be safe."

That stupid word again! She yanked away and continued walking. Always, always with Robert it was the same thing!

He grabbed her elbow once more, spinning her toward him, then held her by the shoulders. "We've been through this before, Aurelia. It's time we face it. I know you don't want to believe that your safety is a good enough reason for making a decision. But it is to me." Those blue eyes were intense. "I need you to understand that."

The air sc.r.a.ped through her chest. She knew how foolish it must seem for her to be mad at him for trying to protect her, but since when did that protection mean abandoning her? Didn't he know what her life would be like?

"I could never stay at the Fortress, Robert, locked away from the world like my mother. I was ... afraid after the last attack. I am ... afraid."

The grip on her shoulders softened.

"But I can't ..." She struggled to voice the fear that had stalked her ever since she had first entered the Blue Room-a fear that had not fully revealed itself until her last discussion in that virulent refuge. "I can't become her."

"Aurelia"-his right hand moved to the side of her face-"you are nothing like your mother." The words were so calm. So certain.

"How can you say that?" she asked. "When I look exactly like-"

"You confronted Lord Lester's men in the forest. And then His Lords.h.i.+p. You went into the village and talked to the people there face to face. And last night you climbed up on Horizon's back and fell asleep."

Was that last part meant as a critique? But his tone had sounded more like pride. And he was right. She had done all those things, after the attack. Confusion swept through her chest. Which side of the argument was Robert on?

"I could never live my life without purpose," she said, trying to clarify her own viewpoint. "The expedition is important. I need you," she repeated his earlier words, "to understand that."

"I have always believed in the expedition."

Had he? Yes. He had told her she should travel to the frontier.

"But I can't protect the crown princess," he said.

"The expedition was never about the people seeing the crown princess, Robert," she tried to explain. "It was about me learning about them."

"I know," he replied, his fingers still on her cheek. "But I can't take you north-"

"Robert, we have to go north. I have to see the frontier and the desert. I can't deny half my country."

His hands locked on her shoulders. "I was going to say I can't take you north unless-"

"I have to pretend to be someone else." That had been the plan, the one she had prepared to share with him last night.

"Yes." His sudden agreement startled her. "You'll be Daria. And I'll be Thomas. It's safer if we invent as little as possible."

She stared at him, wide-eyed. He had thought this out already.

"But, Aurelia, if we do this," he continued, "there are things that we need to settle first. This territory-it's different than the capital and central Tyralt. It's harder. Raw. And mistakes have repercussions that you won't be able to see. You asked me to be your guide, and I need you to let me do that. To trust my judgment. Can you?"

Now he asked her this? After last night?

And yet she could not quite bring herself to say no. "Will you promise not to leave me?" she said. "Even for my protection? At least not without telling me?"

His hand dropped from her cheek. His eyes closed, the vein on his forehead pulsing, and his fingers formed into a fist. "I swear it," he said, with a tone of fealty. When his eyes opened, they were wet.

She reached out toward those glistening eyes. "I trust you, Robert."

"Good," he said, taking her hand. "Because we can't detour around Transcontina. We have to walk straight into the Lion's Den."

Robert felt no regrets. The floating sensation in his chest was closer to euphoria. They traveled east for three days, and he told himself he had no time for looking back. Or for second thoughts. Instead, he drilled Aurelia on the answers she would give if asked about her ident.i.ty.

But one of her questions caught him unawares.

"Have you ever heard of the Right of Valshone?" she asked on the final morning in the forest.

His hand jerked, and the stallion snorted, kicking at the trail. "Your father terminated it," Robert said, referring to the marriage treaty that would have made his own feelings for Aurelia even more illogical. "A decision I fully support."

Wait! Had he said that last part aloud?

Her cheeks had gone a dark red, and her focus was intense as she prodded the elderly roan.

Robert tried to cover the awkward moment. "I've always a.s.sumed you approved of his choice as well."

"I never knew of the Right until four days ago."

How was that possible? The Right of Valshone had everything to do with Aurelia. But then again, it never had, because her father's edict had come so shortly after her brother's death. And until that time, her brother would have been the one bound by the law.

"Where did you learn about it?" she said, leaning forward as if that would transform her slow mount into a racer. "Not in school?"

No, he guessed not. "My father ..." Though now that she mentioned it, his father had discouraged Robert from ever discussing the topic with her. "I think, perhaps, people were afraid it might disturb you, hearing how the king changed the law because of your mother." He watched closely to see how she would react to his mention of the woman she had left behind.

There came a pause of acknowledgment, and the mare stopped walking altogether. But Aurelia did not allow either to halt the conversation. She dismounted and began checking the mare's hooves. "I can't imagine the Valshone were pleased with the change in my father's policy."

"Maybe not." Robert circled back on Horizon. This was dangerous territory, retracing the past. "But since one of their own ended the law in practice"-he referred obliquely to her mother's flight from the capital-"before your father did it in writing, I guess they had no choice but to accept. Though it's hard to know, since the only person the Valshone send to court is the Heir to the Right."

Aurelia lifted one of the roan's hind hooves. "Did my father ever send liaisons to ease the change?"

Robert shrugged.

She frowned, switching to the mare's foreleg. "Your father-did he say anything about whether the Valshone intended to maintain their side of the treaty?"

She was worried about the repercussions, Robert realized. Here, hundreds of miles north of the Valshone Mountains, and nearly two decades after the Right of Valshone had been brought to an end.

How could he help but love her? "There haven't been any threats of attack on the southern border," he said in an attempt to comfort her. "We seem to be safe."

As safe as any of us are in this kingdom, Thomas's skeptical words taunted back in Robert's head.

Aurelia plucked a stone from the upraised hoof. "And if the people in the south never send anyone to court, how would we know if there were an attack? One would think if the inhabitants of the mountains were once important enough for the former kings of Tyralt to make this treaty, then the Valshone must be just as vital to this country today."

"Yes," Robert replied, and for the second time, he opened his mouth and said something he had not planned to vocalize. "But your father, and the rest of the court, have never been particularly interested in the people at the far reaches of Tyralian society." What am I doing talking politics?

"My father cares about Tyralt." Aurelia flung the stone into the trees. "He may have been willing to marry me off to save his own reputation, but he wanted to do it at the greatest benefit he could manage for this country."

Robert cringed, unable to accept her defense of the king's shortsighted attempt to barter her off. "Your father cares about Tyralt's power. I'm not so sure he cares about the needs of the people living here."

She did not flare back, as he had antic.i.p.ated, but she did not grant him the point either. Instead, she moved to the front of the roan and pulled lightly on the reins. "I think ..." Her eyes studied the horse's gait. "I think he cares, but he's too afraid of change; and he's surrounded by people, those already at the center of power, who want to use Tyralt's resources for themselves."

"Like the queen." Robert dismounted, leaving the stallion between them.

Aurelia did not bother to argue. "She's never had any interest in people outside the aristocracy."

"Maybe that's why the Treaty of Valshone was made." Robert's focus blurred on the path as he thought aloud. "Not to protect the southern border, but to ensure that another voice was always heard at the palace. After all, the Battle of Gisalt would never have been a surprise if the Tyralian king had had regular correspondence with the Valshone. And the Valshone would never have lost so many warriors if they had asked for support from the Tyralian military." In the name of the crown, I'm still talking politics!

Something swatted him on the head.

Aurelia, who had somehow remounted the roan without his notice, was leaning over his temperamental stallion, her pack crushed upon his saddle, the strap dangling loosely from her hands. "So you think I should marry a member of the Valshone after all?" she said, teasing him for the first time since the night of the burning tent.

A warmth he had not thought he would ever feel again washed through his body. "No, of course not," he rallied. "Marriage to you? That might destroy all hope for peace in this country!"

She swatted him again. And his stubborn, half-wild stallion just let her do it.

Aurelia's first impression of Transcontina, when she stepped out from the shadows of the Asyan to peer down into the open river basin, was of sheer magnitude. The sun's high-noon rays powered down onto hundreds and hundreds of white sails. Not s.h.i.+ps but wagons. Heavy, curved wagon boxes with white canvas hoods. On every last section of cleared land between the basin's bowl-shaped walls and the deceptively calm waters of the mighty Fallchutes. Not a city, she thought, as she witnessed those wagons. A fleet.

"That's Transcontina." Robert motioned toward a small, insignificant structure at the center of the wagons. Four log walls with sharpened ends pointing toward the sky, their intended aura of strength dwarfed by the ma.s.s around them.

"If that is Transcontina, then what is this?" She gestured at the fleet below them.