With the rest stop at the lake far behind them and night quickly approaching, Tabassum and her crew resolve to make camp at the base of a mountain. With daylight on their side, they will begin the journey through the mountain pass at the end of Artemisian territory. The cold began to set in and already they could see their breaths in the air. They all had their jobs to do if they wanted to sleep comfortably that night.

Rydon patrolled the surrounding area, Rohan followed after his brother in search of firewood, Itzel began dinner preparations while Tabassum and Aria cleaned out the carriage. Despite their best efforts, they all managed to track sand into the plush upholstery.

Tabassum looked up from her work, feeling a pair of eyes on her. Aria played with the end of one of her braids.

“Now that the boys aren’t here,” she looked around and lowered her voice, “I got something to ask you.”

Tabassum continued working, “What is it?”

Aria took a deep breath, “Well, I’ve only known you for a few months, and I’ll be level with you. I’m not sure if the rumors are true or not, but you and Rohan are so close, I mean, you’re practically inseparable to the point it becomes annoying-”

“We’re very close,” Tabassum cut her off, “as close as siblings.”

Aria smiled and breathed a sigh of relief.

“When you’re a royal,” Tabassum closed her eyes and sighed, “relationships are never just that. It’s always a question of whether that person will become your mate. Whether they’ll be an effective future leader or not. It’s annoying that I can’t date as freely as normal people without intense public scrutiny.”

At this realization, Tabassum recounted several moments that Aria laughed a little too hard at Rohan’s jokes. There was also that time she seemed to trip over her own feet and fell into his arms.

“That being said, he is a complete moron who won’t pick up any romantic clues so you should just be blunt.” Tabassum pointed to the zlatorog. “When you handle an animal, there is no time for second guesses, right?”

Aria nodded.

“Same goes for Roro.”

Aria heard the brothers approaching the camp.

“Thank you,” she whispered before slipping out of the carriage.

The zlatorog tried to reach the leaves on a low branch, but was hindered by its harness. Aria detached it so it could roam free for the night. It thanked her by licking the side of her face.

Done with her chore, Tabassum joined an annoyed Itzel sitting cross-legged on the ground, fussing over a pot of uncooked rice.

“What’s wrong?”

Itzel prodded the pot with a spoon and looked over his ingredients. “I thought I packed the basmati, but I must’ve accidentally packed the jasmine rice. The flavor will be all off.”

Tabassum shrugged, “Rice is rice. It all tastes the same.”

He looked personally offended by her comment. “Oh, Princess, I expect better from you.”

“Firewood, coming through!” Itzel barely had time to move out of the way before Rohan dropped two piles of dry wood in the dirt. Rydon gently set down a pile of rocks he carried back to camp cradled in his cloak. He began the task of building a fire to allow Itzel to cook.

Throughout dinner, Tabassum sat and watched her friends entertain themselves with stories and games. She noticed Aria had gotten gradually closer to Rohan but still hadn’t worked up the nerve to get him alone.

Done with its grazing, the zlatorog curled its legs under its body a comfortable distance from the fire. Tabassum wondered if it was possible to cuddle with the adorable animal while it slept.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Rydon broke the peaceful air.

Tabassum let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Just thinking about my rite.” She placed her face in her hands, it wasn’t exactly what she was thinking, but it must have been just behind her conscious thoughts to slip out that fast.

“Hm.”

“My mother peacefully ended a decades-long curse on a town,” she said, looking up at him through her fingers. “My father found a way for us landfolk to be able to speak underwater and helped with negotiations between warring merfolk. What am I supposed to do?”

Rydon thought for a minute. “I know I am only here to protect you, and I cannot help you with your rite, but-”

A horrifying scream cut through the merriment like a knife. Aria fell to her knees, gripping the side of her head, blood pouring from between her fingers. A dark arrow, glinting deep red against the fire, stuck in the ground just before her feet. On the end of it, a vision that turned Tabassum’s stomach: Aria’s severed ear.

Before she knew what was going on, Tabassum was shoved back, blocked by a wall of armor. She held onto the back of Rydon’s cloak, not able to see much beyond his massive body. Rydon fired an arrow into the dark part of the forest the attacker should be. He hit nothing. Rohan pressed a cloth to Aria’s wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

Tabassum moved with Rydon toward the carriage. She heard the zlatorog bleat out in pain. Itzel hurried to its side, seeing another arrow stuck in its hindquarter. Wildflowers immediately grew to full blossom wherever its blood touched the ground. Panicked, the poor animal leaped to its feet to run. Itzel grabbed hold of the reins, desperately trying to calm it enough to tend to its wound.

Tabassum’s hand reached the carriage just in time for the door to swing wildly open. Rydon quickly twisted around, pulled her back, and put himself between her and the invader in their camp.

A tall, pale-faced man stepped out of the carriage with a smile wide enough to divide his scarred face. He wore no armor that they could see, nor any insignia that would place him with any country or faction in the war. His long black coat was filthy with the dirt of the road. Fur lined the collar, matted down from age and mistreatment. His long black hair clung to his head in filthy ribbons. The overpowering odor of rot spilled from him, robbing Tabassum of the fresh mountain air.

“You must be the little Artemisian princess.” His voice was as deep and icy as a glacial cavern.

Rydon wasted no time drawing his sword. With his free hand, he pushed his cloak aside, showing Tabassum the dagger tucked at his hip. She pulled it free of the sheath and held it up defensively.

“And who are you to attack my friend in my own territory?” Rage coursed through her. She wanted more than anything at that moment to cut his ear off his disgusting head.

Her words were met with a throaty laugh.

“Little elf thinks this is her territory,” he spoke to the darkness, which spurred a chorus of equally evil laughter.

She couldn’t have been mistaken. The border for Artemisia ended on the other side of the mountain range. This attack is a death sentence for all responsible. As of the previous day, she may not be a royal by law, but she was still the daughter of the Queen and King.

Looking back, she could see Rohan armed with the axe he used to chop the firewood standing over a trembling Aria. They were surrounded. Most of the threat still hid in the darkness of the woods. She tried to listen for movement, footfalls, or the telltale sounds of weapons being drawn. All she could hear was her own ragged breathing, Itzel struggling with the zlatorog, and Aria’s quiet sobs.

The rotten man reached for something in his coat; what it was, Tabassum could not see. “No one way out here except us, Princess.”

Rydon took a few steps back, Tabassum moved with him toward Rohan’s back. They had no shields but their bodies. When she was close enough, Tabassum helped Aria to her feet. She could hear them closing in from all sides now.

The sound of flittering wings caught her attention. Four, maybe five faeries with arrows trained on all of them hovered just past the treetops. One landed near the rotten man, she was much smaller than him but equally as dirty. With her red iridescent wings folded down, Tabassum focused on the arrow notched in her bow. A match for the one that shot Aria. She’d tear those wings off with her teeth if she had to.

“We require payment for your little intrusion.” The faeries spoke in a high-pitched, saccharine voice that sounded as if she were mocking them.

Tabassum gritted her teeth and hissed. “What do you want?”

“Blood!” The word triggered more laughter from the crowd. There were more individual voices than Tabassum could count.