The Disappearance of Winter's Daughter (Riyria Chronicles #4)(15)

“She’s a woman who’d probably like you to kiss her.”

Royce sat back down on his bedding, his eyes tense, angry. His hands clenched with unconscious energy.

“So, you two haven’t done anything?”

“What do you mean by anything?”

“I mean—”

“I’ve hugged her,” Royce declared proudly.

“That wasn’t what I meant, but have you? Have you really? Or did she hug you, and you didn’t cringe? Because that’s not the same thing, you know.”

“Look, just because you’re quick to—”

“This isn’t about me, and it isn’t about Roy the Sewer, either. The woman’s in love with you, Royce. And don’t tell me you don’t feel the same.” Hadrian shook his head. “You can’t stand leaving her and can’t wait to get back. The two of you act as if you’re already married—still in that honeymoon phase, too. I just don’t understand it. You’re normally so—” He paused. “Oh! That’s why you’re so quiet. You’re not mad at me; you’re angry with her.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re angry at Gwen because she ruined your perfect little world. Everything was so neat and orderly, all painted the same color of black. Now she’s gone and made a mess by spilling hope and sunshine all over the place. You’re in love with her and it’s killing you, isn’t it?”

Royce didn’t answer.

“Admit it, you love Gwen, and it scares you. You’re terrified because you’ve never loved anyone before.”

The hood came up, as it always did.

“That’s not an answer, you know.”

“Yes, it is.”





Chapter Four

Rochelle





Rolling hills and quaint farms disappeared as Royce and Hadrian headed into the Majestic Mountains. The jagged snow-swept peaks that ran from the Senon Uplands to Amber Heights divided Warric from Alburn, west from east, new from old. As always, Royce left the road to avoid the city of Colnora, maintaining his truce with the Black Diamond Thieves’ Guild. They found the byway again near the Gula River and followed it into Alburn rather than risk the snows of the Amber Heights pass. Crossing to the far side of the Majestics, they entered a different world. The landscape reflected the transition. Rolling green hills turned into jagged mountains, river gorges, and ocean cliffs. Oaks and maples became pines and junipers. Snow reappeared at the higher elevations and dense fog hugged the seaside. The population was isolated in pockets—valley villages, they were called—and Royce and Hadrian had passed through several of these hamlets without stopping. The local folk didn’t seem to like strangers.

“Is that it?” Royce asked as the two sat astride their mounts looking at a city clutched in a river valley below. Although the town wasn’t as sprawling as Colnora; the buildings were packed tighter and appeared taller. Hadrian and Royce were still miles away, and from that distance and at that height, the place looked peaceful. Surrounded on three sides by snowy peaks and the open ocean on the fourth, it looked idyllic.

“I think so,” Hadrian replied. “I haven’t actually been there, but that’s definitely the Roche River, and the city of Rochelle is supposed to be where it meets the sea, or the bay, I guess. The Goblin Sea is farther east. I think this—” he pointed to the cliff beside them, which dropped to an ocean inlet where waves announced the incoming tide—“is called Blythin Bay. At least it was six years ago, and I don’t know why they would have changed the name.”

By then, the two had been on the road for five days, always camping and avoiding cities or towns. The trip had been warm and dry, but according to the sky, all that was about to change.

The hood tilted upward, scanning the darkening sky. “Bad weather on the way. Best get down there. What do you know of this place?”

“I never came to Rochelle. I was only in Alburn for a few months. That was when I served in the military for King Reinhold. Most of that time I was bivouacked up on Amber Heights. I spent my days watching Chadwick’s First Regiment, waiting for them to invade.”

“Why just a few months?”

“Because less than a year before, I was in that same regiment. Lord Belstrad, the commander, gave me a medal for my part in the Second Battle of Vilan Hills. I knew all those men. Several were my friends, and everyone knew old Clovis was itching to attack Alburn and take the heights. So, I left. Disappeared in the middle of the night.” Hadrian looked east across the inlet to where he could just make out the far coast, a thin green line fading in a rising mist. “I shipped over to Galeannon and kept right on going, all the way to Calis. Amber Heights wasn’t the first time I faced the prospect of fighting past friends. So, I figured if I went far enough away, it couldn’t happen again.”

“Did it?”

“No.” Hadrian sighed. “Instead, I only slaughtered strangers.”

Hadrian expected a quip from Royce or at least a snide comment. The hood was silent.

“So, I can’t say I know much about Alburn, even less about Rochelle. As a whole, about the only thing I remember is it being odd.”

“Odd?”

“Unfriendly, secretive, and above all, superstitious. The east is different. Those who live in the sunset shadow of the Majestic Mountains are peculiar, and not in a good way. You’ll see. None of my memories of Alburn are good ones, but . . . well, I can’t say as I recall much that was good from those years. Maybe I’m biased.”