Followed by Fros(23)

“I’m not hungry,” I said in my own tongue. In truth, I did not think I could keep anything down; my stomach twisted in cold, tight knots. “But thank you.”

Imad stared at me, blinking, before a grin warmed his face. “You speak Hraric,” he said in Hraric.

“Very little,” I answered in Northlander, though I spoke more than that. Actually hearing the words, though, had made me realize I had gotten several pronunciations wrong. I did not try to speak it for fear of butchering it.

Imad nodded and gestured to Lo, who still sat tall and overbearing on his black warhorse, uncaring for this added shred of my intelligence. “This is Lo, captain of my guard. He will take you to a horse, and we will set out immediately unless you object, Svara Idyah.”

“My name is Smitha,” I said. I managed a smile—it was hard not to smile in the presence of one who exuded so much sincerity. “And now is fine. Thank you, for your kindness.”

“Smitha,” Imad repeated, though in his heavy accent it sounded like “Smeesa.” “My never-ending thanks goes to you, Smeesa.”

He clapped his hands, and the guards at his back straightened and retook their formation. Lo strode up beside me as Imad returned to his horse.

The captain of the guard said nothing; he only glanced at me with those dark eyes before walking his mount forward. I quickly retrieved my flint and books from the ground and followed him at a safe distance. The man scared me, to be frank, and I had no desire to linger near him. He paused by a brown dun mare in the middle of the company. The animal had already been heavily blanketed from rump to ears. But while Lo intimidated me, I seemed to have the same effect on the animal. The horse shied away from me, blowing out a breath through her nostrils that fogged in the chilly air. I hesitated.

Turning his mount around, Lo grabbed the mare’s reins to hold her still. She whinnied, but did not shift too much as I approached her. Lo did not offer me a hand in mounting, but I could hardly blame him. Fortunately, I knew how to ride, and though gripping the reins proved an effort with my chilly fingers, I managed to seat myself and turn the mare about. Lo left without a word, and the other soldiers hesitantly gathered around me, unabashed with their stares.

I heard the word devil behind me and frowned. More whispers followed, most of which I couldn’t hear or couldn’t understand. I slumped my shoulders, wishing to be smaller, invisible.

Within moments, however, Lo turned his warhorse about and glowered at the soldiers. “The prince has said she will save our people!” he barked in Hraric. “Do you dare mock your sheikh?”

His bellows snuffed the murmurs. Lo didn’t so much as glance at me before turning back and whispering something to the prince. Still, I appreciated his intervention. No one had stood up for me in a long while.

“Thank you,” I heard behind me, the words muted but undeniable.

I turned to look at the man beside me. Like the others, he was dressed in indigo. His helmet rested on his pommel, etched with the shape of a horrifying insect with great pincers and a long, arching tail—what I would later learn was a scorpion. An older man, perhaps in his forties, he had black eyes and his head was shaved bald.

He nodded to me. “Thank you, coming,” he said, his accent heavier than Imad’s.

I nodded back, the spark inside me burning a little brighter—almost enough for me to imagine it being warm. How strange it was to see a genuine smile directed toward me. He grinned, but the front of the line began to move, cutting off any further conversation. My mare started on her own, following the line of horses in an arch through the aspens until the party pointed south, toward Zareed.

Soft snow began to fall around us as we continued onward. The soldiers marveled, eyes darting between me and the sky. A few laughed.

Prince Imad glanced back from the front of the line. Our eyes met, and he smiled.





CHAPTER 10





The first two days of riding passed in almost complete silence, save for the occasional whisper or murmur among the soldiers. I had to change horses three times a day to prevent the animals from growing too cold through the thick coating of blankets. It would have been more, but the exertion from the long days of walking and trotting was enough to save the animals from frostbite, even with me as a load.

Lo was usually the one who would direct one of the soldiers to switch mounts with me. He often rode without wearing his helmet, though the absence of the horned metal did little to ease the sternness of his features. Lo’s hair wound in tight spirals to his chin, and his hard, humorless expression looked like it had been carved from dark granite. His face was covered in heavy stubble, making him look even more intimidating. He seemed to be the exact opposite of the stately and cheerful prince.

Each time we stopped, whether to change a mount, eat lunch, or camp for the night, Imad would check on me. I appreciated his attention, and even more so the tent I was given to sleep in at night—my first real shelter in such a long time.

After the first night, the Zareedians learned to keep their fires going until dawn, and they wore multiple layers to bed, often waking up in thick layers of snow. My presence among them created a source of discomfort and tension. Later, however, as we passed through the flatlands south of Iyoden—farther south than I had ever traveled—the soldiers began to relax somewhat, returning to what I presumed to be their normal camaraderie. They put on a more dignified show when Prince Imad or Lo came nearby, but left to their own devices, they laughed and joked and made fun of one another. I enjoyed listening to them talk, if only for the opportunity to decode their quick words and heavy accents. I pulled out my Hraric book of plays often to reread the passages now that I had a better idea of the genuine cadence of the language. One night, while gently scraping frost from the brittle pages as I turned them, I realized I felt genuinely happy. Here I was around other, real people, teaching myself about their language. Yes, they still shied away from me and whispered when they believed I did not hear, but I was once again part of a group.