Page 9 of Prince of Shadow and Ash

THE KNIFE SPUN THROUGHthe air, the sharp edges reflecting the cloudy afternoon sunlight as it arced up and back down. Adelaide caught the blade between her fingertips and absent-mindedly flipped it back up. It cartwheeled up and back down, the hilt landing in her palm. She leaned on the pommel of her saddle, holding the knife out to her side, and stared at the back of Sir Ruddard’s helm, glinting silver above his maroon cloak, as if he weren’t there. She heard the clomp of hooves on the packed, uneven dirt road as if from a distance. Two long days of riding, from before the sun cast its warm glow until the moon cooled the land, had driven her past boredom until her mind—and her legs and rear—felt numb.

Ahead, a large, half-dead walnut tree stretched barren branches over the road. Adelaide moved her fingers down to the smooth, rounded end of the knife’s flat hilt. She raised her arm, and with a fluid motion, straightened her elbow and released the knife. The blade made a soft thunk as it stuck into a low branch just as Sir Ruddard rode under the bough.

“Adelaide!”

Adelaide jumped at her mother’s voice. She looked back over her shoulder at Mother. The breeze teased fly-away hairs from Mother’s crown of dark brown braids. Her skin, a burnt umber a few shades darker than Adelaide’s, had a warm glow from riding all day.

Mother frowned. “What if you had hit Sir Ruddard?” Her Khastallander accent made her vowels sound exaggerated.

“Me?” Adelaide chuckled. “Miss? Not in ages.”

“Garhaa soondir haninai,” Mother said, slipping into Khast as she often did when rebuking her children or when her emotions ran high.Haughtiness is unbecoming.

“Yes, Mother,” Adelaide replied in Khast. She turned as she approached the branch. As she rode beneath the dead limb, she reached up and pulled the knife free. “But even if Ihadmissed, he’s wearing armor,” she said, subconsciously switching back to Monparthian. “He would have been fine.”

“And your blade might have been dulled or chipped,” Mother chided, also switching back to Monparthian. “Ahamilatakes care of her blade.”A lady.

Adelaide leaned over and slipped the knife back into her boot and adjusted her skirt. “It’s just that the time is going so slowly!” A raindrop fell on her nose, and she glowered at the gray sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance. “Beautiful weather for two days, and in late Springtide, no less. So naturally it would rain the last day.”

Mother laughed. “That should be reason for gratitude, not grumbling.”

She shifted in her saddle. “It seems worse, somehow. Like nature is laughing at us. ‘You thought you could make it all the way to Etchy without getting wet? Let me send a rainstorm your way.’” A big raindrop fell on her forehead, and she wiped it away.

“We could make camp until the rain passes, my ladies,” Sir Ruddard called over his shoulder. Ruddard had taken up the vanguard today. Sir Charing and Sir Hayes rode behind Adelaide, her mother, their two handmaids, and two pack horses. Like knight bookends, Adelaide thought.

“Nonsense,” Mother said. “If it gets too bad, we can stop. But Adelaide has a point. I am tired of traveling. We press on.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Nothing sounded better than finishing this journey, even if Adelaide was unsure about staying with her sister’s new family. Getting off of horseback would be welcome, as would sleeping in a real bed again. More importantly, the sooner they arrived at the Drummond’s, the sooner she saw Minerva. Two years felt like an eternity, and the occasional letter did little to ease her loneliness.

Adelaide pulled the hood of her cloak over her head as the rain fell faster. Why did they have to be riding across pastureland instead of through a forest when it rained? Some trees between her and the sky would be wonderful. She prodded her blue roan gelding, Zephyr, into a trot and moved next to Ruddard.

The rain formed little rivulets down Ruddard’s helm. Droplets clung to his scraggly gray beard. Even though his horse was taller than Zephyr, he was still shorter than her.

“If we don’t stop, when do you think we will arrive?”

Ruddard pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders to protect his chainmail tunic from the rain. “Mid-evening, optimistically.”

That left at least four more hours of riding. She let Zephyr fall back into line.Don’t get me wrong, Zephyr; I love you. But I’m tired. I’m sure you are, too.

About an hour later, hail drove them to a small stand of trees a short distance out of their way. The trees, their leaves still small, provided little protection. Worse, they had to share the space with three cows that refused to move.

While they waited, they ate the last of their food. They started out again as soon as the rain subsided to a light shower. Darkness fell, and a waning crescent moon glinted between clouds. Ruddard slowed his horse and signaled for them to stop as they approached a pass between a couple small wooded hills. The knights behind them pressed in, forcing their caravan into a tighter group. Adelaide eyed the trees. Had he seen something? She leaned forward, pulled her dagger from her right boot, and two throwing knives from her left. Steel scraped against leather as Ruddard drew his sword. Her heart rate increased as her gaze darted from shadow to shadow.

“Is someone there?” Mother murmured.

“Not sure.” Ruddard prodded his horse forward. “Best to be cautious.”

Behind them, Sir Charing drew his sword. Adelaide glanced back as Sir Hayes nocked an arrow. Moonlight glinted on the blade of Mother’s dagger. The maids’ eyes were wide in their pale faces. If anyone attacked them, the handmaids would be useless. Not for the first time, and doubtless not for the last, Adelaide mentally chided the entire kingdom of Monparth for teaching its daughters to rely on men to defend them. As if there would always be a good man available. All the same, she would rather not have today be the day she had to put her training to the test.

They were halfway through the pass when torches lit on either side of them. A dozen or so men dressed in dark, ragged clothing stepped out of the trees. Handkerchiefs hid the lower half of their faces, and they carried an array of battered swords and spears. A large, muscular man bearing a longsword stepped closer.

“My, my. What have we here?” His deep voice carried a note of amusement. “Don’t you know robbers roam these roads after dark?”

“You are bold,” Ruddard adjusted his grip on his sword, “attacking travelers so close to the Drummond Estate.”

“Drummond?” The man laughed. “Nearly an hour away. And we haven’t attacked nobody.” He ran his hand along the flat of his blade, admiring the weapon. Even in the faint light, Adelaide could tell it needed sharpening. “Yet.”

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