Page 46 of The Princes of Stone and Steel

I wanted it to leave.

Just leave me alone.

On that thought, that one thought, the mist rolled away opposite the hut. It shut up when I told it to. It went away because I ordered it so.What the?It hit me then, what seemed so long ago now, even though it had only been maybe a week ago when Shefdew’s crow had attacked Steele. It was hard to know as the days and nights blended into one another. Time sped up and slowed indiscriminately. Nothing was as it seemed, and then those things that seemed real turned out to be nothing. One thing I knew for certain was that when I told that crow it wouldn’t hurt the prince, it burst into flames—the ash floating away on the wind.

Well, the only way to know if the theory running through my head worked, was to try it.

“You won’t hurt the prince,” I ordered the mist, and right before my eyes it evaporated.

I mean, I knew I had powers. I was the flesh. But my powers consisted of talking to the tree people and the wind, didn’t they?

The mud soldiers, they’d said nobody, not even Baba Yaga, could control the mist.

Not even the Witch of the Wood.

So what did that mean?

With the mist gone, I stepped outside and walked over to the place where it had hit an invisible barrier. I reached out to touch it, though my hand hit nothing. No wall. No forcefield.

“Wards.” I heard in my head, and I jumped, as skittish as a frightened cat.

“Wards?” I answered back without actual words. “Step out so I can see you.”

One of the mud soldiers stepped out from a bramble of brush. And though they all looked the same in the short time I’d spent around them yesterday, I knew instinctively this was the one I’d spoken with on our march.

He had a face.Of course,he had a face. But his face had distinct features. A cleft in his chin and a scar above his left eye, slicing through the brow.

Portions of his face were soft, such as his cheeks and nose. Other parts were strong, masculine—his chin, jaw and eyes. This mud soldier looked every bit the embodiment of a Roman soldier, as if the clay statues I’d seen in art history had actually come to life.

“The witch placed wards around her home to keep the mist at bay,” he offered.

“And you? Where do you stay?” I asked, suddenly worried for the man.

“Our company keeps nights in a cavern not too far from here.”

“Do you sleep on the ground?” I asked next, shocked on his behalf, feeling an odd yet powerfully strong kinship with him. Almost like my soul reached out to his soul. Though not in a heartfelt way. My heart and that part of my soul belonged to Steele. As sure as I was of my own name, I was sure of this. This kinship felt more like we were both pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Once snapped together, we’d form part of the bigger picture.

He laughed and stepped closer. “You needn’t worry about me, Millicent Merchant.” Then he held out his arm as if to show me his skin. And I realized his meaning.

“You’re made of ground,” I murmured.

His laugh turned heartier, then abruptly sobered. “Protect the outliers, Millicent Merchant.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I am Tertius,” he said. Roman. I knew it. “Tertius Acilius. You… are my successor, Millicent.”

“What?” I stumbled a step back, so thrown from his admission that I was surprised I even stayed standing. “How… where? You’re mud. You’re telling me there’s a mud people world connected to this one?”

“No. Roshambo connects to only our world, as far as I know.”

“Then how are you…?” I gestured to the whole of him.

“As the third son of my father, I set off to shape my own destiny. To prove my worth to my family. I stole a small vessel and set off across the channel to find fortune in the Roman-held cities of Britannia when I hit a storm the likes I’d never seen. A great whirl of water opened up—”

I cut him off. “The skoulikotrypa.”

Tertius frowned, but then nodded and continued. “I landed here. The Forfex reminded me so much of my people, and they offered to grant my every desire. Bounties of food and companionship. A home in the castle. I became the head advisor to the king himself.”

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