“Get on,” Gallen ordered, extending his hand out to me. 

“What, on your horse? What about the mare?” I replied, confused. 

“Let her go, she’s served her purpose. We won’t need her once we cross the river,” Gallen scowled, impatient. 

“I’m not leaving her,” I asserted, before rushing after the mare. 

Whatever ground I might have gained with Gallen during the day, I was about to lose. But I couldn’t let the mare go. Marching along the river, I brushed aside the painful memories of the Duke, revolted by how fast I bonded with horses. This was different. After all, Gallen had stolen her. It was our responsibility to take care of her now. 

Where Gallen wanted us to cross, the riverbank was broad and sandy, but upstream, it shrank to a sliver of land. That’s where I found the mare, her reins dangling from her neck as she grazed alongside the edge of the forest. 

At first, I approached her cautiously. But I soon realized that if I stretched the corners of my mind, I could actually understand what she needed. She was scared. 

“Easy,” I soothed her. “Come on, you’re okay.”

The mare neighed, and trotted gently towards me. I patted her nose, and we both walked back towards Gallen. 

His frown turned into a smile when he saw how pleased I was to have retrieved the horse. 

“I’m crossing on foot,” I decided. “She’s not too sure about the water.”

“As long as you’re not slowing us down,” Gallen replied, and I nodded, resolute.

We set out across the wide, shallow riverbed, focused on guiding our horses over slippery, moss-covered river stones. The high noon sun was burning the back of my neck as I waded cautiously through the crystal water. 

“Look up,” Gallen said after a while. “You’re in Voke.”

What I saw was so beautiful that my chest tightened. For the first time since I was six years old, I drew in the beauty of the land I was born in. 

Gallen dismounted and stood by me. We both soaked in the eerie beauty of the snow frosted mountain peaks, the forest of stone pines dotting their sides, and the herd of bison roaming in a yellow prairie, a short distance ahead of us. 

“I’ve never seen bison before,” I marvelled, drinking in the scent of pine resin. 

“Wait until you see our capital,” Gallen beamed proudly. 

I was coming to understand that Gallen’s abruptness was a front for his sensitivity. He had mentioned that Luther was soft at heart, but I was starting to suspect that maybe he was too. 

We took one last step across the river, and we were in Voke. I was safe. My thoughts went to Louise, alone in her room, in the servants quarters of Duke Franco’s castle. One day, I would go back for her. 

My nostalgia was interrupted by a cloud of dust on the horizon, growing closer by the second. 

“Whatever happens, pretend like you’re a servant gifted by King Hughes,” Gallen urged me. “Try not to speak.”

“Who are they?” I questioned Gallen. His face didn’t betray any emotion as he peered in the distance. 

“The Brigantes tribe,” he replied simply. 

In no time, a squad of a dozen demons surrounded us, their maroon leather armors clashing with the yellow of the prairie. Startled, my mare backed into the water, struggling to find her footing on the smooth river stones. I held on to her reins and stroked her neck to soothe her. 

“Beware of their leader,” Gallen whispered in my direction. “Nervii, the Keeper of the Edge.”

An older demon, a scar slashing his face from his lip to his forehead, broke from the group and approached us. I noticed a boar tattoo sprawled across his knuckles, as he stopped his tall horse inches away from us. He didn’t bother to dismount. 

“What have you here, Gallen of Annaba?” The demon jutted his chin in my direction, his black eyes narrowing into two slits. 

“This is a gift from the human king to Luther. I am bringing her back to Ligones. Let us through, Nervii, of the Brigantes tribe,” Gallen asserted. 

“And why didn’t Luther mention anything when he crossed the border late last night?” Nervii was staring me down with contempt. I had seen that look before, when Duke Franco looked at demons behind their backs. 

“Why would the king worry himself with the fate of a simple servant?” Gallen retorted. 

But Nervii wasn’t convinced. He stared at me so intensely that for a moment I feared that he could read my thoughts. If he knew anything about Thornland’s servants, he would be able to tell that I wasn’t dressed like one, in my leather pants and green tunic. Female servants in Thornland always wore plain dresses. 

“What is she?” Nervii almost spat the words in my direction. 

Gallen paused, darting a glance at me. My face was uncovered, revealing my silver hair, golden eyes and pointy ears. He couldn’t lie. “She is half demon and half human,” Gallen finally answered. 

A shudder of disbelief rippled across the entire armed group. Gallen took a step forward to stand between me and Nervii in a protective stance. I didn’t need to know much about demon culture to tell that the interaction wasn’t going the way Gallen had hoped. 

“She’s a spy!” Someone behind Nervii shouted. 

The rest of the Brigantes demons nodded in approval. Gallen’s hand instinctively brushed over the sword hanging from his belt. 

“Luther is expecting her intact tonight, in Ligones. Let us through.” He had raised the tone but I could hear a slight tremble in his voice. 

I frowned. I didn’t like hearing myself referred to as if I were a mere object, passed on from king to king. I took a breath, and stepped next to Gallen, resolute. While gifting servants was rare between Thornland and Voke, it actually was a common present between human kingdoms, especially after signing treaties. 

If I explained that to Nervii, maybe...but Gallen dug his fingers into my arm to prevent me from speaking. 

“Nervii Brogis, of the Brigantes tribe, I challenge you to a fight,” he asserted instead. “May the winner do as they please with the human servant.” 

My jaw dropped, but Gallen tightened his grip on my arm. A fight? What if he loses?

“I accept,” Nervii answered, a smug smile twisting his scar. 

A roar rose up from the riders as they pounded their chests, excited by the promise of violence. They dismounted, and we formed a circle around Gallen and Nervii. I was stunned…could Gallen actually die? Franco had always warned me about the demon’s thirst for bloodshed. I was starting to fear that he might have been right.