Soon the sound of crashing water overwhelmed all else. Ani approached the sound and ducked under the branches of a fir. There at her feet burst the white eruptions of the river, shaking the earth and breathing out a mist that wet her hair. The water fell straight for the height of three men, then continued to churn around rocks and smaller falls until the land evened farther downstream. She could see the movements of Ungolad’s group above the falls and decided not to join them, enjoying the unfamiliar solitude.
Somewhere behind her she heard the dim call of a bird to its mate. Fly away, danger. It was a common cry among the woodland birds she had listened to as a child, and the familiar call in that foreign place made her feel as though the words were spoken to her. Danger. Fly away. She reached above her, gripped a branch, and began to step away from the edge.
At the same moment, something knocked the back of her ankles, and her feet slipped. Ani held to the tree and pulled her feet back onto land, and watched the stone that had struck her topple over the edge and drop into the river.
The ground beneath her was slick and wet. If she had not been holding on to a branch at that moment, she would have gone the way of the stone and possibly cracked her head on a rock or been held under by the strong current and drowned. She looked around to see what had disturbed so large a stone. No one. But perhaps, she thought, for just a moment, there had been a flash of gold. Perhaps it had been the tip of a yellow braid disappearing in the timber and shadow.
Ani ran back to camp, grimacing with each step for her sore ankles, and was brushing Falada when the hikers returned. Ungolad saw her and for a moment seemed surprised to see her alive and dry, but his expression changed again so quickly that she questioned if she had seen truly.
He passed her, patted her shoulder, and said, “You missed a fine waterfall, Princess.”
She was not sure that he or anyone had thrown that stone. But even if he did, she thought, I’m protected. I don’t need to fear. She patted the handkerchief at her chest and believed even more fervently that it was protecting her, that she could hear the voice of her mother’s blood even as she heard the birds speak.
A week after the waterfall, the company came to a tree as thick as five men that had fallen across the road. While some of the guards and horses worked at moving the obstacle for the wagons, the rest of the company forged their own way through the forest. Ani and Falada wove through the trees a bit apart from the others.
Something is not right, said Falada.
What is it?
I do not know. His ears twisted to listen behind and to the side, but he kept on walking.
Stop a moment, said Ani. She leaned forward to pat his neck.
Suddenly Falada whined and reared. Ani clutched at his mane and gripped his middle with her legs, saying all the while, Easy, Falada, it is nothing, easy now.
Falada got his footing back and quieted down. His skin shivered under the saddle.
Something whipped me, he said.
Ani looked back and saw no one. Immediately to the right ran a long gorge, a fall steep enough to break a neck.
Ani and Falada caught up to the rest on the road and pulled alongside Ungolad at the end of the company. She looked the guard over. His braids hung down his back like slain prey thrown over the hunter’s shoulder. He wore a long sword at his side. He was looking forward, squinting in the sun. Some bit of courage was prickling inside her, begging her for action. She considered Ungolad’s horse, a bay nearly as tall as Falada.
Falada, can you tell me about this horse and what he thinks of his rider?
Falada whisked his tail and turned an eye to the horse beside him. There was a change in the rhythm of his walk, and he lowered his head. The bay shook his head and picked his hooves up higher. From long association with Falada, Ani thought she could detect the spirit of the bay’s response but waited for Falada’s words to make her certain. Ungolad noticed the princess’s attention, and he smiled at her.
“Do you admire my beast, Princess?” he said.
She nodded. “He is a pretty horse, and you ride him well. He seems a bit meek, but I have observed that you like to be in absolute control.”
Ungolad blinked in surprise. She felt surprised herself, and she smiled pleasantly.
“You are a student of men and horses, then,” he said, “and I had heard that all you were fit for was to be married off and produce princelings.”
Ungolad’s comment would have stung, but its carelessness suggested that she had startled him, and she felt encouraged to continue.
“In my study of horses, I can say a fair bit about yours,” she said as Falada silently related to her all he had learned. “He was a wild colt, caught and trained later than usual, and had to be thoroughly broken, which made him ridable, but broke his spirit as well. He has had many owners and has been beaten into obedience so often that by the time he came into your hands he was as docile as a cow. He thinks you are unpredictable, heavier than you used to be, and smell unpleasantly. And he has a stone in his right front hoof.”
Ungolad laughed with obvious force. “Well, Princess, you have more game spirit in you than I thought.” He smiled, and the very tips of his teeth peered through his parted lips.
“Thank you,” she said, smiled graciously, and kicked Falada into a trot to the front of the company. Her hands were shaking and blood rushed into her fingertips, and she nearly laughed out loud. She fingered a corner of the handkerchief. My mother’s blood is protecting me, she thought. I have nothing to fear.
At the next stop, she saw Ungolad, glowering, remove a small stone from his horse’s right front hoof.
As they neared Bayern, the road pushed the trees farther away, and at midday there was no shade. The company was weary and sun sick. It was a bright and burning afternoon when they passed a small trading party going toward Kildenree.
“Ho there, sir,” said Talone. “How many days since you left Bayern?”
“Six days’ll take you to the city, if that’s where you’re going.” He lifted his wide-brimmed sun hat as he caught sight of Ani. She smiled at his accent. He spoke his words carelessly, letting each word bleed into the next, his vowels short and consonants ringing out from his throat. She turned to see Selia, wondering if she also remembered that accent from the time the Bayern prime minister visited Kildenree five years ago, but her lady-in-waiting held back by the rear guard. The trader did not see her.
“And how many since the last town or settlement?” said Ungolad.
“Oh, two, I’d say, at a good pace.”
Ani saw Ungolad and Selia exchange looks.
That night at camp, there were two fires. Dano, the cook-man, built the first, and Talone, Ingras, the wagon drivers, and some of the guards gathered around it. Ungolad built the second and drew in Selia and the majority of the guards. Ani turned from brushing down Falada to see the camp split into two parts, and she felt that something definite had been decided. She stood between them and did not know what to do.
Talone noticed her and walked to her side. “Princess, you look concerned.”
His face was lined with age, his temples graying. He had been faithful to her mother for many years, but did that mean he was faithful to her?
“What is it?” he said.
Ani twisted the handkerchief between her fingers and forced herself to look at him directly in the eyes. “Talone, can I trust you?”
He blinked and looked as though she had wrenched an arrow from his side. “I have failed you if you must ask that question.” He put a fist over his heart and said in his strong, solid voice, “I swear fealty to you, Princess Anidori-Kiladra, and promise to shield you to your safety and, if you wish it, will remain your personal guard until my dotage and death.”
She blinked at the force of his pledge, and gratitude and relief filled her. Feeling that the oath required a sign of her acceptance, she looked about her for something to give him. All she had on her person of value were two rings. She slipped one with a ruby drop
let from her second finger and placed it in his hand. “Thank you, Talone.”
Talone seemed moved, and lowering his head for a moment so she could not see his eyes, he tucked the ring into his vest pocket. “Thank you, Princess.” He led her to his fire, where the conversation was bubbling with unease at the splitting of the group.
“I don’t like their attitude,” said Adon, Talone’s second in command. He was a young man, eager for action. “Ungolad’s friends make it clear they follow him and not you, Captain. I swear they grow more insubordinate the closer we get to Bayern. Smells like mutiny.”
“Ungolad seemed interested to know how long it would take us to reach the first town,” said Ani.
“They might have friends there,” said Radal.
“Or plan to do something before we reach witnesses,” said Adon.
“Or they are just eager to sleep in a bed and eat real food again,” said Radal. “Aren’t we all?”
“Mmm.” Talone eyed the princess. “I don’t know what it means. It may be they intend to stay in Bayern and not return to Kildenree next spring. But, Princess, if there is any sign of trouble, you jump on the nearest horse and ride away. Do not stop until you get to the king and safety.”
Ani felt goose bumps rise on her arm. “Safety? What do you think they would do?”
“Nothing. I am just being cautious.” Talone stood and approached Ungolad’s group. The frivolity died down, and soon the party broke up. Talone assigned the watches that night to his most trusted men, but Ani hardly slept. She clutched the handkerchief at her breast.
The next morning dawned a bright, stinging sun. The company rode in a long line up next to the trees, hoping for a forest breeze or the occasional branch of shade. By the time they stopped to camp two hours from sundown, everyone was sick from the heat and headachy from squinting in the sun. The evening was warm and stale under the heavy-limbed canopies, and the air was sticky with the odor of pine, seemingly too thick to breathe.
There was a small clearing just off the road where the company set up camp. Ani, prodded by Falada’s grumbling of thirst, tossed off her pack and walked Falada through a thicket of trees toward the sounds of a stream. She dismounted, threw off her sweat-soaked sun hat, and bent over to fill her gold cup. As she dipped the cup under, the cold water against her heated skin shocked her, and she dropped it. The gold winked green through the water before the current pulled it down and away. She thought, One less thing to separate me from everyone else, and lay down on her stomach, scooping the water with her hands to her lips. Her sleeves to her elbows soaked through, and she felt the cold water on her neck and on her chest. She shivered and drank.
Princess, you lost something in the river, said Falada at her side.
Yes, my cup, she said.
Princess, said Falada again.
But a shout came from the camp, and Ani stood and turned away.
Something is happening, she said.
She could still hear the echo of Falada’s last word to her—Princess. But she walked away, toward the camp and the commotion. Embarrassed that the breast of her dress was soaked through, Ani decided to slip behind a copse of trees that separated her from the party and avoid being seen. Through a break in the leaves, she spied on the camp. Yulan was shouting. He had removed his shirt in the heat. Talone stood by. His hand rested on his side just above his sword hilt.
Trouble. Ani glanced back to Falada, who was still drinking at the river, and felt uneasy at being so far separated from him. But she reasoned there could not be any real danger or she would have a warning. She touched her chest where she kept the handkerchief and, prodded by curiosity, crept through the trees to get close enough to hear but still stay cautiously out of sight.
“While there are ladies in this camp, Yulan, you will stay dressed like a gentleman,” Talone said.
“Selia does not mind, do you, lady?” said a guard by Yulan’s side, and there was laughter.
“Let them be, Captain,” Ani heard Selia say, though she could not see her.
“I amend my statement, then.” He spoke through a clenched jaw. “While there is one lady in this camp, you will dress, and behave, like gentlemen. We are the royal guard of the princess, and we will act as such.”
“Royal guard of the princess,” said Terne, laughing. “She is not a princess, not here. Kildenree doesn’t claim her, and we haven’t reached Bayern yet.”
Talone ignored Terne. “As captain of the guard, Yulan, those are my orders, and to disobey them is treason.”
The pocket of men backing up Yulan shifted uneasily. Yulan looked at Ungolad, who was sitting on a log a few paces away.
“Nice and easy, lads.” Ungolad stood. “This was not the way to do things, but I think at last the time has come to tell the truth.”
“Not now,” said Selia.
Ungolad winked at her. “Don’t worry, my lady.” He looked at Talone and squinted, though Ani was not sure if it was for effect or just habit from the blazing day. “We don’t want a fight, but some things are going to change.”
“Yes, all hail Princess Selia,” said Yulan.
“Princess Selia!" Several men shouted and raised their swords above their heads.
“Hush up,” said Ungolad. He spoke with genuine anger.
Talone stepped closer to Ungolad. That Ani could see, they were the only two who had not drawn their swords. Both sides were poised, waiting for action from their leaders.
“Is that what this is about, mercenary?” Talone did not seem aware that he was shaking his head. “You’re aiming to dispose of a rightful princess and replace her with a fraud?”
Ani clutched at a branch to keep steady. Dispose of a princess. A fraud. They were trying to kill her. Until that moment she had never really believed it. Why would they try to kill her? So Selia could be princess. She remembered Talone’s order that she run at the first sign of trouble. But there’s still no warning, she thought. My mother’s handkerchief will protect me.
All the same, she thought she had better get closer to Falada. She spoke his name, but he was a long way off grazing at the river and did not respond. Slowly, so that she would not cause a noise, she started to make her way to him.
“Fraud?” said Selia. “Royalty is not a right, Captain. The willingness of the people to follow a ruler is what gives her power. Here, in this place, by this people, I have been chosen. These men are tired of being told whom to follow. Now they have a choice, and they use that choice to call me Princess.”
Selia’s words seemed seductively convincing. Even Ani, peering through pine boughs, had to stop herself from nodding. But Adon stepped up beside Talone and challenged her.
“You mean Princess Anidori-Kiladra, don’t you? You want to take not only the title, but the name—her name.”
“I suppose, my little warrior pup, but it’s the title that interests me most.”
Ani caught a glimpse of Ungolad smiling at Selia. A couple of men near Talone chuckled at the idea of Selia being a princess, but the other half was stiffly serious, and the laugh fell like water against a stone wall.
Falada, she said again. He did not respond.
“You’re mad.” Talone spoke the words as though they were the final revelation.
“If we’re mad,” Ungolad said, “then we are mad in large numbers, at least larger than yours.”
“Where is she?” said Selia. Ani covered her mouth before she gasped. They would look for her now. They would kill her as they had been trying since the waterfall. Why didn’t the handkerchief protect her, whisper to her through birds or nudge her to safety?
“She’s by the stream,” someone said. Ani could see Terne, one of Ungolad’s men, running from the group and toward the area where Falada grazed. Terne was already between her and her horse. Her cold fingers fumbled at the wet fabric at her breast where the handkerchief had been. Where it should be. Ani felt for it, patted her dress, looked at the ground around her feet. It was gone. She realized that she must have
lost it in the stream. It would be far away by now. Who would protect her?
Falada, can you come to me? she said. He did not respond.
Talone shouted toward where Falada stood. “Princess, do as I told you!”
Ungolad motioned for another soldier to follow the first toward the stream. Do as I told you, he had said. Run away. Unable to reach Falada without being seen, Ani turned to the dim forest and walked softly, afraid to hear fir needles crack beneath her feet, afraid if she did run on her shaking legs, she would fall. Just a little farther, she thought, get to the next copse, and then run.
“There she is,” said Selia.
Ani looked back. Hul left Ungolad’s side and jogged toward her. Adon shouted and started forward to rush him. He had taken only one step when a bloody sword point burst through the center of his chest. His face ripped in pain and then stilled, dead standing. Ishta pulled his sword out of the dead man’s back and grinned with his animal teeth. Ani gasped, and suddenly everything felt terribly real. She tripped, turned, and ran.
There was the din of sword meeting sword behind her and horses screaming and men shouting and men falling. She ran. She tripped past a thornbush, and her hair caught in its barbed arms. She pulled herself free. A man was close to her. It was Ungolad, now, running after her, running faster than she. She could hear the thumps of his boots against the hollow forest floor like an anxious heartbeat behind her. He was getting closer.
Falada, she said, Falada, please. He was too far away, or perhaps he was already killed. “Falada!”
She heard Ungolad grunt and turned to see him trip on one of the roots that ribbed their path. There was a pounding of hooves to her right. It was Radal’s dun-colored horse, riderless, cantering, and dragging his reins. A long, shallow cut marked its rump. Ani ran to him.
The horse stopped when his path was blocked by a thicket of firs and startled when Ani grabbed his reins. The reins were unknotted, and she managed to grab only one when she mounted. She leaned over his neck to grab the other rein. At once Ungolad reached her, and he growled when he sprang. Ani kicked the horse. He lurched forward as Ungolad grabbed her heel. Ani pulled tight on the reins and held to his mane to stay in the saddle. The horse reared, and Ungolad’s grip loosened. She clamped her knees around his middle. When the horse’s forelegs touched ground again, he bounded into a gallop.