Till

“What is it?” Anya stares wide-eyed at me as I scan the darkness for the source of the noise.

Snap.

More movement in the trees causes twigs to snap in the distance, and I slowly push myself away from her, my heart racing as I prepare for an attack.

This deep in the woods, it could be bandits, or wildmen—gods only know what else could be lurking out here. What match would we be? A magically exhausted witch and a lone thief.

I may be good with a dagger, but I’m much better at fighting one on one, or through stealthy means—better yet, escaping before things get violent.

But I don’t like my odds of escape if the enemy knows the woods better than I do. Anya would have to lead us, and she’s only gone so far. . .

“What if it’s soldiers?” Anya sits up and tugs at her cloak, panic spreading across her face. “I can’t let them catch me with my magic depleted.”

“Catch you?” I arch my brow in question as I glance from the treeline to where Anya shifts nervously on the ground, her eyes darting around wildly.

She looks more than uncomfortable; she looks mortified.

“Why do you think you would be in danger from the guards?” I ask, reaching down to offer her a hand. “You’re just a girl in the woods—if there have been no survivors to report back to the barracks about you, then they won’t know you’ve been killing them.”

Anya accepts my assistance and dusts her skirts off as she gets to her feet, her brow crinkled in confusion and a look on her face that begs me to question if she thinks I am stupid.

“What?” I shrug, confused by her incredulous look.

“You can’t be serious.” Looking over her shoulder, Anya whispers, “I’m a witch, and your people made magic illegal.”

My eyes narrow on her, brow furrowed in confusion. “Magic is not illegal. Not in our kingdom or any I’ve ever been to.”

Iscar would have a laugh at that. The wizard’s college would be in serious trouble if magic were ever outlawed in Soltemni.

Besides, we’d have war on our hands, because magic is so deeply ingrained in the holy rites of neighboring kingdoms that it would be considered a grave political attack to condemn all mages to death.

Another twig snaps, and I hold up a hand for Anya to remain silent. Her face is twisted in a look of confusion and horror.

My hand rushes to the blade at my hips, and urgency courses through my veins as I prepare to fight—she may not actually be a target for the soldiers, but me? No. I already survived the witch’s tower.

I will not be dying at the hands of some garden variety guardsman.

Instead of a soldier, however, I squint into the shadows and see the shape of a deer walking beneath the trees, either oblivious to our presence, or uncaring.

“It’s just a deer." I sigh, turning back to Anya, who visibly relaxes.

“I’d have been able to tell if my magic weren’t depleted,” she murmurs as she stares back at the fire, seemingly deep in thought. “But you had to interrupt my sleep.”

“If you’d simply listened to me when I told you I meant no harm, you’d still have power,” I remind her.

She scoffs. “Forgive me, is it common for a young maiden to simply allow a strange man into her bedroom with no repercussions where you’re from?”

“Well, no, but—”

“And now, that same man is trying to tell me that the life I’ve lived thus far is a lie.” Anya puts her hands over her face and sniffles quietly before forcing her eyes into a steely glare. “This has been a troubling night for me, so do not presume to lecture me on the proper use of my energy.”

“Fair enough,” I sigh, but she’s already turned away from me.

She doesn’t want me to see her cry. Anya sucks in a deep breath and blinks a few times, ensuring there’s no longer a threat of tears as she stares absently into the fire.

I feel sorry for her—she can’t be much older than twenty, and everything she thought she knew is being turned on its head. I can’t imagine the shock of this revelation.

"Shall we sit by the fire?" I motion to where my pack lays, and she silently takes a seat, pulling her cloak tighter over her shoulders as she shivers.

The chill of night tickles my skin as I sit beside her, watching her stare at the dancing flames and wondering how many unanswered questions are floating around in her head.

I wish she’d just ask them, burst this bubble of awkward silence, but she doesn’t.

Everything is quiet and still until the rumble of her stomach breaks the uncomfortable quiet.

Reaching into my travel pack, I dig out some of the dense bread I’d packed for my journey. It’s not a lot, but at least it’s something.

“Here.” I break off a chunk of the soft bread and hand it to her. “Consider it a peace offering.”

Anya accepts the bread. “I’ll go with you.”

“You’ve decided to come with me to the kingdom?” I ask, relieved, but unsure if I heard her right.

“I have,” Anya says firmly, the firelight dancing in her eyes. “My original intentions were to kill you once my magic replenished and go my own way, but recent events have made me change my mind.”

“At least you’re being honest about it.” Maybe it’s the earnestness in her tone, or maybe I’m just addicted to danger, but I can’t help but take her confession in good humor. “But, if I may, what is it that made up your mind?”

“Because I’ll need a guide,” Anya admits with a rueful frown. “I want to see the kingdom with my own eyes, but considering how little I clearly know, I’ll only get into trouble on my own.”

“Fair point. I’ll admit I’m. . . surprised to hear you speak so rationally about it.”

“Should I be offended that you find my rationality surprising?” She raises a brow, and though her magic is currently depleted, I remember the time she’d held me at knife point and think it best to pacify her as quickly as possible.

“I suppose not,” I sigh. “I meant no disrespect, My Lady.”

“Absolutely none of that, thank you,” she spits, her entire body contorting in disgust. “Whether you’re right about my origins or not, I’ve no intention of becoming anyone’s princess.”

The urge to smile at her outburst is strong, but as I’ve no interest in having her kill me in my sleep, I fight it.

“Well then, we’ll definitely need to keep from drawing attention to ourselves.”

“You mean no flashy magical spells.” She nods. “And we’ll stay far away from that castle of yours.”

“It’s not my castle,” I scoff. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the furthest thing from royalty.”

Maybe she hasn’t noticed. She seems to understand what nobility is, but would she understand finery if she saw it?

I suppose the well-made leatherwork of my cuirass could look fancy to someone who’d never left this forest.

“I didn’t mean your castle individually,” she huffs, tearing off a piece of the bread I’d given her. “I was referring to your people.”

“They’re your people, too.”

“Allegedly.”

The tension in her face relaxes as she turns back to the dancing flames, which grow smaller and smaller as the logs turn to embers.

“Till,” Anya breaks the momentary silence. “I need you to promise me that you won’t tell anyone your suspicions about me. I’m. . . going through quite a lot right now, and I’m counting on your guidance and discretion.” Anya’s eyes bore into mine as she waits for me to agree to this oath.

The brilliant gold of her eyes reminds me of my mission. I have the witch’s gold right here in my hands. The only thing between me and glory in the guild is the distance between us and the city.

“Alright,” I lie. “Consider it a promise.”

“Good, then it’s settled.” Anya nods with a yawn as she stretches her arms. “I think I’ll get some rest.”

“Good idea,” I mumble as Anya lays beside me, her eyes already closed, a halo of crimson hair splayed around her.

She looks every inch like the rest of the Soltemni royals, and the image of the lost princess, clothed in rags and laying down to sleep in the woods, makes me uneasy in a strange sort of way.

Destined for finery and luxe, and this is the life she ended up with.

I don’t want to hurt her, but I came here for a treasure, and here she is—perhaps the greatest treasure of all. I will take her to the kingdom and show her around, but discretion isn’t a promise I can keep.

Fergus is going to eat his words when I bring her back to the guild.

Golden boy, indeed.