“No, but our King lives to the west, so I’m following the setting sun.”
That made sense. The sun always went down in the same place, more or less. He was confident of the direction and for good reason. They followed the game trails through the forest. When one veered off, they found another, always riding west. They came into an area where fewer deciduous trees grew, and most of them were small. There were, though, more evergreens, including pines, cedar, and fir. Hannah looked into the sky and squinted as the setting sun was directly in front of them. The food in their bedroll called to her, but no magic was involved. It was the natural result of being eleven or twelve, hungry, and still growing.
Sir James had stopped talking earlier, and the few times she’d chanced looking behind, his head also faced the rear. Something back there worried him, and so it worried her. A tenseness about him told her the earlier laughing was as leaves blowing in the wind. It had been with them and now was not.
The horses carried them over a small hill, and another stream lay ahead, along with a thick stand of maples, or other hardwood off to the left, standing out because of the evergreens surrounding it. He said, “Follow the stream until the trees fully hide you and the horse. There you will tie your horse well, conceal yourself, and then you’ll sleep.”
“Can I eat first?”
“Yes, but no fire. Hide if you see anyone but me. If discovered, leap on your horse and flee downstream. Forgive me for not providing you a story to tell if we encounter strangers, but we will do that in the morning.”
“You’re going back there to find what’s following us, aren’t you?”
“I saw flashes of the sun glint off metal three times. We have a follower.”
“We could ride faster,” she suggested. “Ride into the night and get away.”
“And wonder who is back there the whole time and when they might catch up and murder us? Or, I can head back to see what I can do to discourage them.”
Hannah felt the first prickles of fear. “What will happen to me if you die?”
“I won’t.”
“My father would have said that a day ago, wouldn’t he? Please don’t go.”
Sir James said, “If they kill me, you’re to ride to the King’s castle and tell the guards my name and that I sent you with a message for the King’s ear alone. You’ll demand an audience and tell him all of the last few days—but not that you’re a mage, of course. As for me, I give you my word that I’ll avoid danger if possible. Once I know who is back there I can plan our future.”
He spun his horse and trotted away. Hannah watched his back and felt more tears fall, but didn’t bother to wipe them. Then she did as he’d told her. Once safely in the thick trees along the stream, she tied the horse to a stout tree, leaving one end of the reigns where a solid pull with her hand, would free them. She ate a sparse meal and wrapped herself in a blanket to wait. She wouldn’t sleep until he returned.
Darkness fell, and with it, the air turned cooler. A breeze picked up and rattled dry leaves and branches, startling her several times. As her mind made up tales of people sneaking up on her, she pulled her knees up under her chin but remained ready to leap to her feet and run to the horse. She slipped the knife from the scabbard and held it by the hilt under her blanket, ready to jump up and defend herself. She was not sure which would be the better choice. Sir James had promised to teach her fighting, and she intended for him to keep that promise. He hadn’t taught her any of it yet, but the first day had not come to an end. She would remind him.
An owl hooted and another answered. She was familiar with them. They had roosted in the barns of the palace, and their calls were welcome. Night insects created their sounds, chirps, buzzes, and clicks. A small animal scurried in the nearby brush to one side. She stood and found the horse grazing a dozen steps away. She untied it and moved it to her side. It knew the friendly sounds and the dangerous ones as well. If the horse became excited, so would she.
When the horse lifted its head and peered into the darkness, she did too. The blanket no longer provided enough warmth as she prepared to abandon it and run. The horse’s ears twitched, then a dark blur approached and quickly became the knight.
“It’s me,” he called softly.
Standing, Hannah relaxed and fought conflicting emotions. She wanted to race to him and cling to the safety he provided. Her heart pounded. As the kitchen fire-starter, she had never experienced the emotional highs and lows of the last two days.
As he neared her and the horse, it snorted and backed away nervously. Its actions backed her away too, as she looked for the reason. A dark stain covered his upper arm, clearly seen in the moonlight. Another darker blotch covered his stomach. Blood. It was blood.
“Are you hurt?” She asked, understanding the reaction of her horse. It smelled the blood and turned naturally skittish.
He climbed down from his saddle, more slowly than earlier. “No, just tired.”
“You’re covered in blood.”
“Not mine. There were three of them back there. Bounty hunters sent to find and kill you.”
“They told you that?” she asked, not questioning what he said, but trying to find more information than the bare facts he provided.
He hobbled his horse with a leather thong and said, “No, they didn’t. The only one alive, agreed to talk to me if I would send a message to his widow. He said the Young Mage at the Earl’s Palace provided the gold for the assassins and bounty hunters. He’s the son of a wealthy merchant, but even he does not have that much wealth. I think the mage followed instructions by a woman named Princess Eleonore, the wife of Lord Jeffery. I believe she provided the coin.”
“I have never heard of either of them,” Hannah said.
“Do you remember the conversation with the Old Mage about the line of succession?”
“I remember, but do not understand.”
He settled beside her on the grass, a blanket around his shoulders. “Imagine people standing in line. One at a time. The one in front gets to be called a King, lives in a palace, has gold, willing ladies to do his bidding, and people fighting to obey his every wish. When he dies, the next in line gets all those things. Do you understand that much?”
“I think so. I’m in that line.”
“Exactly. Your father was number four. That makes your previous position number five, but you will now take his place at four. Had he lived, everyone behind him would have been pushed back one place. Now they will remain the same unless you die.”
Hannah closed her eyes and tried to picture the people in the imaginary line Sir James use as his example. “With my father’s death, and me entering the line, nothing changes for them. Why is that a problem?”
“Good question. It’s well known that your father would have refused the crown if it ever came to him. Ahead of him are two others who will refuse it. One is too ill to rule, another too old. In reality, you are not number four; you are two.”
“They hate me for that?”
“Let me explain in simpler terms. If the King dies—his eldest son rules. If the son dies, you are next in line and will be the Queen. You are young and may rule seventy-five years or more, and with each birth of a child to you, those still waiting in line will move back another spot.”
“The King’s son may rule that long, too! He may have children of his own, and then I will move back.”
“Royal intrigue is a curious thing, my Princess. Younger sons often kill their older brothers. Sisters poison brothers. A carriage containing the right four people can roll off a cliff and someone far down the line as number five becomes King the next day. Few kings live long lives and the same for Queens. The closer you are to the crown the more danger you are in.”