Page 9 of A Thieving Curse

The inhabitants of the castle had gathered in the courtyard for the send-off. The knights and members of the court uttered blessings as she made her way to the gate, while the servants bowed or curtsied. Her family waited in two groups. Gareth and her parents stood by their horses with their entourage, ready to accompany her. Frederick, his wife Angela, and Nathaniel stood to the side, waiting to say goodbye. Raelyn’s heart physically ached, a squeezing weight inside her chest. Her throat was so tight she scarcely trusted herself to speak.

As she approached Nathaniel and Frederick to bid them farewell for the last time, she tried to memorize them. The exact color of both brothers’ eyes, Nathaniel’s smell of soap and cedar, and the way Frederick stood with his feet planted beneath his shoulders and his chin ever-so-slightly lifted.

“Get into trouble for me, will you?” she whispered in Nathaniel’s ear as they embraced.

“But that’s your job.” As she moved away, Nathaniel’s cheeks were wet and his eyes red.

Angela was perfectly sweet, as usual. “You will honor Eynlae, Princess Raelyn. Your duty is an important one, and I wish you well.” She curtsied politely. Raelyn hoped Tristan Carbrey wasn’t anticipating an Angela. She could fake that level of gentility but doing so all the time would get exhausting.

“Well.” Frederick glanced at his boots. He looked a lot like a twenty-five-year-old version of Father, with his brown hair and square jaw. But his brown eyes were Mother’s. “I’m sorry I haven’t always been as supportive as I could be. But I’m happy for you. And I hope you’ll be happy.”

Raelyn had to work to keep the shock off her face. It wasn’t quite“I wish you lifelong bliss,”but from Frederick? It might as well have been. And Frederick hated admitting he was wrong. She had never suspected that he regretted their past fights, and she suddenly wished they hadn’t become so distant.

Frederick grasped her shoulder and smiled. The weight of his hand felt at once reassuring and odd. “I’ll miss you. We all will. You—you’ll be fine.” He pulled her into a startling embrace, burying her face in his chest. “Make us proud. And…be safe, Raelyn.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice tight. As she left Frederick, tears glimmered in his eyes.

The goodbyes over, Raelyn mounted her mare, Opal, and the party set out—Raelyn, Mother, Father, Gareth, a dozen knights, and several male and female servants. Raelyn couldn’t stop counting lasts.

Last time being in the courtyard. Last time passing through the gatehouse and over the drawbridge. Last time riding down the small hill that the castle was built on. Last time passing the fields and pastures.

“Do you think we’ll encounter any wild beasts?” Gareth mused. “They say the peaks are full of monsters. The peasants call them the Forbidden Mountains.”

Father laughed. “Mostly inflated nonsense. I’ve been to the top of the pass and not come across a monster. Sir Christopher, you’ve traveled to Rethalyon. Thoughts?”

“There are many stories, my king.” Sir Christopher, a knight in his early forties with graying hair and a somber manner, scratched his beard thoughtfully. “I’ve seen wolves and bears and such. Although who can say what may dwell in the caves and forests high among the peaks? I’ve heard tell of chimera, ogres, even dragons. But no, Prince Gareth, I doubt we will encounter any monsters on our journey.”

“Hmph,” Gareth grunted.

Raelyn chuckled. It would make Gareth’s year if he got to fight a monster.

They had been riding for about half an hour when a pang of homesickness tugged her attention behind her. She reined in Opal and twisted around in her saddle.

Gareth stopped, too. “Rae? You all right?”

The castle stood in the distance, flooded with spring sunlight, its gray stone walls proud above the surrounding countryside, even though it was so far away the details blurred, and it looked small. She gazed at her home in silence.

No, not her home. Not any longer. Her old home.

“I just wanted to see it,” she said softly. “One last time.”

The days passed in a rhythm of riding, stopping for meals, making and breaking camp, and repeating. They crossed the grassy lowlands into the foothills and began the climb up the Thetlane Pass through the pine-covered mountains separating Eynlae and Rethalyon.

Raelyn and Gareth made up games to play, sometimes alone, sometimes with the knights. At times they dismounted and walked their horses to get blood circulating into their cold toes. Occasionally they sang, loudly and off key, until Mother told them to be quiet.

About midday on the fourth day of travel, they stopped for dinner near a miniscule snowmelt waterfall. Up ahead, the rivulet zig-zagged down the mountains to their right between trees and underbrush before cutting across the path in a shallow ditch. Water splashed against the boulders marking the edge of the road before continuing down the valley. The budding forest smelled new and fresh, full of the promise of spring. She wished she could bottle the hopefulness of that scent and drink it.

The crisp air drove Raelyn to a sun-bathed spot in the grass, where she settled down to eat.

Gareth sat next to her and spoke quietly. “How are you doing?”

“Homesick already.” She watched a twig wash down the hillside waterfall.

Thinking of home reminded her of something she hadn’t discussed with Gareth yet. She scanned the caravan, but everyone else had spread out in a wide, level part of the pass a short distance away.

“Did you see Frederick?”

“Give you a hug?” Gareth reclined on one elbow. “You know I was afraid he’d say something pig-headed, like ‘best of luck, and even if he’s ugly, at least he’s not a monster.’”

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