Chapter 9

Platonas Highway, the Kingdom of Wuthia, 1126

Mabel Laenas (Rila Faerson)

The road stretched ahead in a ribbon of amber dust, softened by the slanting light of the setting sun. The mountains in the distance rose in the far distance, their jagged crowns blushed with fire as if the sky itself had struck them with a forge hammer. I held the map tight in my hands, though I’d traced the route a hundred times already. The parchment felt fragile, almost brittle, but it was the only certainty we carried.

Richard rode a little ahead, as he always did, his dreadlocks catching the orange glow, so they looked almost burnished. He hummed some tavern tune under his breath, swaying in the saddle with lazy ease, as though he hadn’t a care in the world. From time to time, he’d flash a grin back at me—half reassurance, half mischief, as though we were on nothing more than a pleasure ride.

“How long till we come close to the Golden Mountains?” he called, tilting his head toward the blazing, treelined. Leaves rained down like scattered coins, red and gold, their crisp scent mixing with the musk of horses and the cool bite of evening.

I tucked the map against my cloak. “If my math is right,” I said, going through the calculations in my head, “we should reach the Golden Mountains in six days at best.”

He let a whistle. “Pretty long journey ahead of us then. Guess we’re going to be stuck with each other for a long time. Gives enough to share some ... dirty secrets.”

He laughed, rich and careless, though I knew beneath it he cared more than he let on. His hand brushed the hilt of his sword—absent-mindedly, but it comforted me to see it there. For all his jesting, Richard always looked after me.

The leaves whispered as the wind passed through, carrying with it the promise of colder nights. I pulled my cloak tighter and looked once more at the jagged outline of the distant mountains, catching the last blush of sunlight along their ridges. Six days. Six days until we reach them.

I could not tell if that filled me with dread or hope.

Richard slowed his horse until he was level with me, his grin crooked in that infuriating way of his.

“Six days,” he said, nodding toward the mountains. “Now, are we going to camp mostly outside like we did on our way to Olnfield, or can we stay in inns?”

“Thankfully,” I said. “We have a good amount of funds to last us for a good while if we manage it wisely. So, this time, we can stay in inns on our journey.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank the gods. I grew tired of sleeping on grass and swatting flies while trying to eat.”

I agreed. Those long nights sleeping outside were ... a tough endeavor on our journey to Olnfield. But this time, we had funds and provisions, along with better prepared skills to handle most of the dangers and obstacles in our way. We were no longer those scared, anxious individuals who left Freymount all those months ago. We were nobles, and we were on a mission to finally save our family from the darkness within us.

I just wish our parents could see us now.

Richard slowed his horse until we rode side by side, the golden light catching his dreadlocks. His tone shifted, no longer playful but softer, like a candle flickering in a draft.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said. “More than usual.”

I traced the edge of the map with my finger, though the lines had long since become familiar. “I keep thinking of her. What if ... what if we don’t see mother?”

He glanced at me sharply, remained silent, and the normal warm laughter was gone. “Why not? She’s our mother. Sure, she left, but -”

“To protect us,” I cut in, unable to stop myself. The words tasted bitter. “From the darkness in us. From herself. You think she’ll smile and open her arms, Richard? As if nothing’s happened?”

His horse snorted, and he tugged at the reins with more force than needed. For a time, only the sound of hooves striking the dirt filled the space between us. The leaves swirled around our path, orange and crimson, as though the world itself were listening.

Finally, he said, low and rough, “She left because she had to. She didn’t leave because she didn’t—” He stopped, jaw tight.

“I know she loves us, Richard,” I said softly, yet my chest still tightened. “That’s why she left us. Would seeing us only bring her more pain, more regret?”

Richard’s eyes flashed in the fading light. “If we get the waters and bring some to her, she will return to the mother we know and love. She’s still our mother, Mabel. No matter what. And these waters will be the thing to bring her back to us.”

The road bent, revealing a brief gap in the trees. Beyond them, the mountains loomed taller, their peaks sharp and dark against the blood-orange sky. My breath caught, because for a moment, I imagined her there—our mother, standing on those cliffs, her face shadowed, her eyes the same as mine.

Richard must have seen it in my gaze. He reached across the space between our horses, brushing his hand against mine in a rare moment of seriousness. “Whatever happens, we face it together. If she won’t see us, if she tries to turn us away, if the darkness is stronger than her will ... We’ll endure it. You, me, Solomon, and Bridget. Always.”