Jahrra narrowed her gaze and averted her eyes. As they stepped out into the gently falling snow, she wondered if she should tell Jaax about her plans to meet Keiron in the morning. During their entire trek back to the cabin, she thought about it, eventually concluding that it was best not to say anything. They were leaving the next evening, and Jaax was already wound tight. She didn’t need to pester him with something as innocent as meeting up with a friend one last time before their departure.
Everyone went straight to bed that night, Jahrra and Dervit to their cabin and Ellyesce to his. As the elf bid them goodnight, Jaax grumbled something about checking the perimeter once again. Ellyesce waved him on, clearly thinking he was paranoid. Jahrra had to agree. Yawning hugely, she stumbled to her bed, only loosening the laces of her bodice before collapsing in a heap on the mattress. Despite the warm memories of dancing with Keiron all evening long to keep her mind occupied, she was fast asleep in no time.
Jahrra woke the next morning in a panic. Had she slept too long? Was it past dawn yet? Scrambling to her feet, she ran to the window and peeked outside. Her heart slowed its frantic rhythm. Still dark out, but surely sunrise was less than an hour away. She hastily removed her rumpled dress from the night before and pulled on her nicer tunic and pants, then grabbed her warm cloak and boots as she tiptoed to the door. Just before pulling it open and escaping into the crisp, frosty morning, she paused. Last night, her head had been fuzzy from the wine and mead, and the attention she’d received from the regent’s son, but this morning her thinking was a bit clearer. Jaax, and even Ellyesce, had suspected Keiron of being a spy. Could they be right about him?
Jahrra squeezed her eyes shut and pictured the Resai elf’s handsome, pleasant face. He had never once done anything to suggest he might wish her, or her companions, harm. And between all of them, she’d spent the most time with him. Surely, she knew his intentions better than her guardian and his elvin friend? Besides, if he was a villain, he would have acted the part by now. Still, that nagging voice in her head wouldn’t let up. Sighing in irritation, Jahrra snuck back to her bed and reached underneath the frame. She felt around for a while until her fingers brushed the scabbard of her sword. There. She would arm herself, just to be on the safe side.
Before making her escape, Jahrra glanced over her shoulder one last time. The cabin was nearly dark, all but for a pile of smoldering coals in the fireplace. Upon the couch across from her bed, Dervit slept, curled up like a cat on a pile of cushions. She felt her lips curl into a grin. When she got back from her rendezvous with Keiron, she would have to ask the limbit all about his evening. Carefully, she pulled the door open and stepped out into the cold morning. The city was covered in a fresh blanket of snow, almost blue in color beneath the still-dark, overcast sky.
Taking a breath, Jahrra pulled her jacket tight and trudged through the snow, making her way toward the stables. A young boy, in dirt-stained but well-made clothes, snoozed on a pile of hay just inside the doorway. Jahrra tried to move past him without disturbing him. Unfortunately, as soon as Phrym spotted her, he let out a long, boisterous greeting. The boy jolted upright, his head swinging in the direction of the horses. His eyes widened when he saw Jahrra.
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
The boy stood up. “Is anything the matter?” he asked.
Jahrra shook her head. “Just going for an early morning ride. Please, go back to sleep. I can saddle Phrym myself.”
The boy looked like he would protest, but as Jahrra suspected, the warm pile of hay had a stronger pull. He plopped back down.
“Come get me if you need anything,” he said through a yawn.
Within fifteen minutes, Jahrra had Phrym saddled and was already walking him through the stable doors and past the sleeping stable hand. Outside, the sky had grown a bit lighter, but she suspected the sun was still behind the mountains. She couldn’t tell for sure since the clouds impeded her view.
The frost crunched beneath Phrym’s hooves as Jahrra led him toward the trail to the Round. Her coat and gloves did little to fight back the cold, but her blood was pumping so fast these little discomforts could be easily ignored. Her thoughts kept returning to those few moments the night before, when Keiron had almost kissed her. She had been terrified at the time, because she’d never been kissed before. Her unusual life had not given her the opportunity, and she hadn’t ever been concerned about such things, either.
Maybe because you’ve never really liked any of the boys you knew growing up the way you like Keiron.
And she did like him. A lot. That was why she was being so careless now. Sneaking out before dawn on the day she and her companions would depart for Nimbronia, with an army of soldiers waiting just outside Cahrdyarein’s walls. Waiting to capture her. But that was precisely the point. She might never get a chance like this again, so she must take advantage of what joys she could now.
Jahrra took a deep breath, the air steaming around her in great puffs, and tried to shake off her sudden nervousness. Energetic birds, their bold spring colors of bright red, yellow and black on full display, despite the wintry weather, flitted around in the holly bushes. Somewhere far above, a raven argued with its mate. Jahrra reveled in the peace and solitude of the trail as she turned Phrym down the final path leading up to the circle of stones. The semequin whickered with boredom, adding his own voice to the mix of subtle sounds around them, and Jahrra reached down to pat him.
“The Round isn’t much farther,” she said, that twinge of excitement and apprehension flushing through her once again.
A scattering of snow tumbled unexpectedly from somewhere up the slope, forming a small mound in the trail ahead of them. Phrym twisted his ears back and rumbled a complaint.
“Oh, Phrym, it’s probably just those birds from earlier disturbing the holly branches,” Jahrra reassured him.
They walked a few more feet, but it wasn’t long before more snow started falling. This time, the loose powder was joined by several stones, one nearly the size of Jahrra’s head. The small avalanche tumbled from the hillside and came to rest some ten feet ahead. Phrym jerked his head back and whinnied in annoyance. He shuffle-stepped backwards, and Jahrra had to talk him out of bolting. Feeling frustrated and thinking that perhaps they weren’t as alone as she’d previously thought, Jahrra stood in the saddle and glanced up the steep canyon once again.
“Who’s there?” she called out. No answer. “I’d appreciate it if you’d show yourself and stop sneaking around. You’re spooking my horse.”
Some of the brush just ahead of them rustled, and Jahrra caught a flash of red. At first she was surprised, then she felt her face flush in anger.
“Dervit!” she shouted, her fists clenched. “Get down here! I know you’re up there!”
What was he doing out here? He had been asleep when she’d left earlier that morning. She was sure of it.
“Dervit, stop trying to hide. I know you’re up there so you might as well come down. I won’t move an inch until you show yourself!”
Jahrra crossed her arms and kicked her feet free of the stirrups. Phrym just turned and blinked at her, letting his weight shift more comfortably when he realized she meant to stay put for a while. There were a few more tiny avalanches of rock and snow rubble, but eventually Dervit peeked his head over the top of a boulder.