Bloodguard

chapter 36

Leith

Caelen and I have spent the better part of the day galloping to his birthplace of Tunder.

I’m atop Star and riding at a breakneck pace. Moon horses, being the masochists that they are, always want to go faster. We had to fight with them twice just to convince them to rest and drink from a creek.

Maeve insisted on going to the castle, despite my arguments to stay at the cottage. The blood oath she swore to help me win in the arena compelled her to learn what she could of the upcoming matches.

It’s a miracle I wasn’t called back to fight this morning.

My hands curl at the memory of waking before dawn, Maeve’s lush body pressed against mine, her dark hair fanned out around us. Her blue eyes were so bright and wondrous as they gazed up at me. And later, as the sun rose and we waited for news of a match to be carried to the manor, for the banners to rise above the arena, declaring the odds and who would be fighting for the day…there were a few painful moments when she clung to me, her head on my chest and her arms wrapped tight around me.

It’s been a long time since someone’s cared about what would become of me.

“We’re almost there,” Caelen mumbles.

“You’re certain we can secure this crew?” He claims he knows someone who can help my family escape Siertos.

Caelen’s face remains stoic, and his braids shift along his back as he pivots on his saddle. “No. I’m not certain of anything. But we must try, and this is the only way.”

Vitor knows about my family. He could harm them to get to me. I must get them out. Hide them someplace safe.

I adjust my hold on the reins. Like Caelen, I rise and lower, leaning forward and back on the saddle, pretending that Star isn’t doing all the work.

I catch Caelen’s smirk. “Something funny, elf?” I ask over the pounding melody of hooves.

He grins, an expression I’ve rarely seen on this soldier. “No. But it would have been if your horse hadn’t kept your ass in that saddle, gladiator.”

“It’s too late in the game to develop a personality,” I retort, forcing my features to still when Star skids along a sharp curve and all but kills us both.

Caelen shoots out his hand, careening to a halt, a cue that Star follows abruptly. The splatter of mud that accompanies our stop barely finishes hitting the dense grass before Caelen’s head cranes to the far right. “Take off your cape,” he says quickly. “We’re nearly to the border.”

My pause is brief as he removes his military robe of green and blue and throws it to me, unveiling his uniform in the same colors beneath. The colors of Arrow. No, of House Iamond, Maeve’s family.

“Drape it over your clothes and pull down the hood,” Caelen tells me.

I do as he says as he positions himself beside me. His horse and Star chuff and stomp their hooves, eager to resume their run. It takes Caelen stiffening for the horses to pick up on his unease and settle.

I follow his gaze to the south as small drops of rain splatter against my nose. The rain clouds move in the direction he’s watching. The storm is moving quickly, though, with clear skies across the whole eastern horizon.

It’s then I see a band of people break through a distant stand of trees and run across the field, headed in the direction we rode through. A giant—bigger than Luther, from what I can tell from my position—forces his short legs forward with a baby strapped to his back. The human men ahead of him are faster, as are the ogren women lifting their skirts as they sprint ahead, screaming.

A literal army chases them on horseback, four surrounding the giant and his child first before he’s able to return to the trees. More soldiers appear in the direction the others are running, their bows and arrows aimed at the migrants. The migrants—for surely that’s what they are—skid to a halt, many of them falling onto the damp grass before they rise with their hands up.

A scout in a muted uniform of Arrow’s green and blue leads her horse toward the large group, pausing when she notices us. Caelen acknowledges her with a tilt of his chin. I follow suit, but it’s only when the scout returns the motion that I think we’re clear.

“They almost made it,” Caelen mutters. He turns his horse away and toward the stand of trees they emerged from. “Let’s go while they’re occupied.”

I urge Star to follow, but like me, she isn’t keen on leaving just yet. The soldiers round up the migrants. To the west, a troll rides a wagon similar to the one used to escort the gladiators to the arena. Hell if I don’t know where they’re headed.

My scowl fixes on Caelen. “Is this what my family is in for?”

I’ve never known Caelen to sugarcoat a damn thing. And he doesn’t start now. “Yes,” he says. He shakes his head when I curse. “I never said it was easy, but if anyone can get them through, Xavier will. Come. It’s just through here,” he says.

Star hesitates because I do. “You can’t help them,” Caelen says, speaking through his teeth. “But you can help your family, and that’s what we’ve come to do.”

He’s right, and I fucking hate him for it. Without another glance back, Caelen stirs his horse into a canter and then a gallop.

Star and I don’t take long to catch them.

We tear away from the open field, slowing when we reach the dirt path that leads through the forest. Like most of the ground we crossed, it’s muddy, but here, large and small stones cover the uneven path.

“A few years ago, Tunder decided to build a direct route into Arrow and a network of supporting roads on both sides of the border.”

“I imagine that was good for commerce.”

He shrugs. “Trade flourished for a time. But once migrants started to use it, Arrow reconsidered, and their portions of the roads have not been maintained since.”

“Have we crossed into Tunder?”

“Not yet.”

He motions upward. Hidden within a canopy of green and yellow leaves is a square stand where three more soldiers in Arrow uniforms wait. Once he points it out, it’s easy for me to spot others. I catch one and then another, mostly patrolled by humans, elves, and a few trolls with wrinkled skin that blends into the bark.

Shit. According to Maeve, Soro has repeatedly asked Vitor to close the borders. Looks like the bitch has finally decided to throw his mangy mutt a bone. And man, if it isn’t one hell of a bone.

But these watchtowers… They weren’t erected overnight. This plot has been in place for some time, I realize. I wonder what this will mean for the future of Arrow and its surrounding realms.

Guards are stationed every dozen yards here.

“I used to think Arrow prided itself on open borders.”

Caelen’s wry expression isn’t lost on me. “Open to those that Arrow wants to welcome.” He makes a show of adjusting the medals along his uniform so his high rank is evident to any guards mounted in the trees. “The new laws are being enforced aggressively. Even royal envoys are being turned away.”

Of course they are. There will be no more potential suitors for Maeve.

“Is this the only path?” I ask. I can’t see how anyone could make it past unnoticed.

“There are gaps along the borders that aren’t manned,” Caelen whispers. “Only due to lack of patrols. But the penalty for breaching them is imprisonment.” He looks at me. “That’s not the way your family will be escorted in. They’ll have to traverse the mountain passes.”

“Good,” I say. As he well knows, criminals find themselves in the arena nowadays. For most, that’s a fate worse than death.

I’d prefer not to risk moving my family at all, but there is nothing stopping Soro or Vitor from having them killed or capturing them so they can control me. And just moving them out of Siertos isn’t enough—the Regent of Arrow’s reach extends anywhere my family could go, except under my own protection.

Plus, once they’re in Arrow, they’ll have better access to Maeve’s healing herbs. A permanent cure for Dahlia, better food and shelter for my family, and at last an education for Rose, who’s always dreamed of writing stories.

Star chuffs as she splashes through a puddle, splattering mud onto her legs and mine. Maybe I should care about how badly I’m soiling Caelen’s robe. Nah, there’s so much more to be concerned about.

I’m due for my next match, and Soro’s made no secret of wanting me dead. If I’m caught today, I must hope they’ll throw me back into the arena rather than having me executed on the spot.

Though I’d put higher odds on Soro just calling for my head.

I glance at Caelen. He’s taking a major risk accompanying me and disguising me as one of his own. He seems to be fiercely loyal to Maeve and her family, but I wonder if that loyalty will hold if something happens during our time in Tunder and he’s put to the test.

A few minutes later, the steep forest path widens, and we begin to ascend the side of a plateau.

“ Now we’re in Tunder,” he tells me.

Forget about watchtowers. There are walls high enough here to rival the height of the arena.

We guide our horses along the whitewashed stone border.

“Tell me more about Xavier,” I say. “If that’s even his real name.”

Caelen doesn’t bother defending him, turning his horse onto the dense ground to avoid another wide puddle in the road. “I’m told he leads a band of heavily armed mountaineers. Together, they make frequent runs. He’s a mountain troll and swears he and his crew can survive under any conditions.”

“Do his charges survive under his watch?” I ask.

“The terrain can be treacherous, but I’m told they reliably deliver.”

I’m already worried about my mother and sisters traveling with strangers across dangerous territories. I suppose that’s why his mention of a heavily armed crew gives me pause.

“Are outlaws a problem?”

Caelen shrugs. “They can be. People in the denser forests are poor and desperate, depending on the time of year. They’ll attack anyone they can secure goods from. Xavier’s crews are prepared to protect themselves as well as those they transport.”

I have questions. Many of them. Like why does Arrow’s military let this troll run free? If they know of him and wish to stop goods or persons from trespassing, then why haven’t they set a trap for Xavier before? I’d ask, but I don’t think Caelen will be forthcoming with answers.

And the fact remains that I have few options.

As the ancient trees thin, I catch my first real sight of Tunder. And that view only becomes larger and wider as we cross the plateau. The city center comes into view above the walls like a giant rising from sleep. I expected Tunder to be smaller. Much smaller. I suppose after all my time in Arrow and the constant reminder of how awesome Arrow is, I’ve developed a prejudice and can no longer imagine any realm close to Arrow’s equal.

“This is your homeland?” I ask, taking in the immense white towers and concentric levels of the city that appear to ascend like a spiral.

He nods. “It is. But Arrow is more home than Tunder ever was.”

“Why?” I ask.

“My father and Maeve’s grandfather—the Good King Masone—were cousins. My mother was never a part of my life, and my father didn’t seem to want to be, either. I attempted to excel in academics and athleticism to win his respect. And while I never earned his, I did catch the queen’s attention. She invited me to Arrow the summer I turned eight. I never left, nor was I asked to return to Tunder.”

“You grew up with Maeve and Giselle,” I say.

He nods, and I almost catch him smiling, but then his demeanor and his stance turn rigid. “There was an agreement made between the queen and my father in exchange for me staying in Arrow. But yes, my childhood was spent with Maeve and Giselle. Mostly Giselle. Maeve had other duties. Giselle didn’t have enough.”

My guess is that he and Giselle found enough to do together. I rub my jaw. I almost ask him if it was love at first sight or if their friendship became more with time. But ultimately, I don’t. If he wants me to know something, he’ll tell me. He’s already shared more than I ever expected to know. No need to pry.

We ride up to a line of people, the adults fretting with each step closer to the wall while their mercifully innocent children chase each other and play. The Commons are easy to recognize. These people could be my family, could be me, but fate had something else in mind. Shit. What wicked blows fate can wield.

All it takes is a glance at the colors we wear for the guards to allow us through. We don’t wait in line. We don’t open our saddlebags or answer any questions.

I pretend to be indifferent. It’s a skill I developed over time, and by now it should be second nature. Today, it takes some doing to bring my apathy forth. The guards stationed here nod and salute Caelen. They may be doing their jobs, but I detest them on sight.

Ahead of us, a battalion of foot soldiers marches our way. I try not to react when the ones in the lead lurch forward in a sprint.

“You there! Halt!”