Page 13 of A Thieving Curse

“No!” Gareth clenched his fists. “She’s not dead!”

Father stood and put an arm around Gareth’s shoulders. “Come—”

“She’s not dead!” Gareth pulled away.

“The knights will look,” Father said, his voice weary. “Don’t make me pull any of them away from searching for her to force you to return to safety with me.”

Gareth stiffened, then hung his head. The distance back to the pass stretched on. By the time they reached the camp, he could barely put one foot in front of the other. He laid in his tent, listening to Mother’s wails, but he refused to cry. Raelyn wasn’t dead. He’d know.

Gareth hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but he awoke to sunlight. He burst out of his tent, nearly colliding with a knight. “Is Raelyn back?”

The look on the knight’s face told Gareth everything, but he asked anyway.

“Did they find her?”

The man’s throat bobbed. “We found the bear in its den, Your Grace. There was no sign of the princess.”

A spark of hope flared. “No body? Nothing?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

Gareth allowed himself a small smile. “I knew it. She’s alive.”

5

VOICES TICKLED THE back of Raelyn’s mind. She tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn’t cooperate.So…heavy. Ex…hausted.She stopped fighting the aching weariness in her muscles.What’s happening?

“…be fine,” an unfamiliar woman’s voice murmured. “The bite on her ankle isn’t terrible, and otherwise it’s only scratches. A bit of a bump on the back of her head, but she’s not feverish and is sleeping all right, so I’m optimistic.”

“Good, good. She has nothing on her? No supplies?” A man’s voice, smooth and deeply relaxing. “Perhaps she got separated from a group. I smelled horse but no other humans.” A moment of silence, then the same male said, “Thank you for taking care of her.”

Raelyn tried to hold on, but she drifted back to sleep.

More voices interrupted her slumber. Or maybe she dreamed them. When she floated toward consciousness, her head ached less, but her body still felt heavy.

“…still sleeping?” The silky tenor from before.

“Yes, but lightly,” another, older male said. “Do you want to meet her when she wakes?”

A strange rustling sound. “Would that be wise?”

“Youdidsave her life. And…well, she’s a woman. You know the legends. There’s always a chance—”

“No.” The younger man’s voice held a sharp edge. “But Iamcurious… I haven’t talked to anyone new in so long… I’ll meet her, but only to talk and to help her get home.”

Home.Raelyn’s thoughts turned to the palace in Eynlae and Gareth as she slipped back into sleep.

When she awoke next, there were no voices. Her head had stopped pounding. The air smelled of woodsmoke, and loud pops from a crackling fire echoed in the stillness. She blinked her eyes open to rough granite. Pain stabbed her right ankle as she sat up with a groan.

She occupied a small bed with a lumpy mattress, thin pillow, and scratchy wool blanket. As she looked around the strange little room, she gripped the blanket. The floor, curved walls, and ceiling were all unpolished dark stone. Wood was stacked near a smoldering fireplace carved directly into the wall across from her. Next to the head of the bed rested a simple wooden trunk. A small, round table and a three-legged stool stood by a wood door mounted onto the rock. If it weren’t for the furnishings, Raelyn would have assumed she was in a cave.WhereamI?

She pushed aside the blanket, her unease growing. Her cloak, gloves, and boots were missing. Why would someone take them? To prevent her from leaving? She struggled to control her breathing. Her dress was ripped and dirt-stained, and blood marred the hem and right sleeve. She ran her fingers over the rip on her upper arm. A shallow scratch had scabbed over. Her ankle had been wrapped in white strips of cloth. Her pulse raced. Who had bandaged her? Was her family here somewhere?

She threw her legs over the side of the bed and knocked over her boots. Practically laughing with relief, she pulled them on and tied the laces loosely on her throbbing ankle. The door creaked open, and her breath caught.

A man entered holding a torch. He might have been taller than average, but he walked hunched from a slight bend to his upper back. Torchlight flickered over his angular features and suntanned skin. His gray hair was streaked with russet. He stopped short and blinked.

“You’re awake.” He approached her. “How are you, my lady?”

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