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She looked at me in surprise. “My lady, you are the Fealty Bride and a prominent daughter of Titus. Surely you see the seriousness here.”
“I guess. But to make a day of it?”
“You had a fever, Sierra. We are out in the middle of nowhere.” She fussed over me, feeling my brow.
“Well, I feel better now. I do need to use the privy, though. And I’d sell my left arm for a bath,” I said, pushing her away.
“That we can do. Your mother had the forethought of packing a wash tub. It’s not that big but at least you can sit in it, and it will also help ease those pains. I will get on that now. Chamber pot is in the corner. I’ll be back, miss. Keep eating.”
Later on, somewhat clean and snug in my bedroll again, I thought about what was to come once the journey ended—meeting Fadon’s brother, my soon-to-be husband. I hoped I would like him. I hoped he wasn’t like his brother, so stern and removed. I thought of the Mor, which I admitted was something I was longing to see, explore all its rooms and corridors, walk along its grounds. I had always had a connection to the place, dreams about being there. I wished that Tamis, my old watcher, were here so I could ask her why. Did she tell me tales of the Ongahri when I was small? I couldn’t remember.
I yawned, my eyes heavy. The tonic Lucinda had given me after I ate was taking effect, making me sleepy, as she said would happen. I let go and sent a fuzzy-headed prayer to the gods, praying Demos would let me back on his horse soon.
Chapter 13
Fadon
Fadon looked on as Darius and Varia struggled to fix the two busted-up wheels on the coach. Neither man had that much knowledge about the intricacies of carriages, but they were the most suited to sussing out what would work and what wouldn’t. Both their fathers had been smithies, and like most sons, grew up around their fathers’ trades.
“Can it be fixed?” Fadon asked as the two warriors finished rolling large stones big enough to support the chassis once the front wheels were off.
“Aye,” said Varia at the same time as Darius answered, “Maybe.”
“Which is it?” he demanded.
Fadon’s impatience had been growing by leaps and bounds ever since he’d left Providence thirteen days ago. What with the incessant rain, Sierra’s health, and these blasted wheeled vehicles that were slowing them down, Fadon had to also deal with the threat of a snowstorm, which would delay them further. Snow they could handle, but a storm that would dump feet of it within hours would be impossible.
“Captain, we do have some tools that the Constant supplied—” Darius replied.
“We’ve used all the spare parts, but we can—” Varia added.
“Blast it, one at a time!” the captain said.
“Fadon,” Jon whispered in his ear.
“What?” he snarled at his Second. Fadon hadn’t even seen him approach, that’s how distracted his mind was while he watched his two men fail to satisfy his inquiries.
“Let them do their jobs. We need to talk.”
Fadon looked at him then, noting the serious expression on Jon’s face.
Ongar, what now?
Fadon turned back to Darius and Varia. “Do what needs to be done. We’ll camp here.” The area was spacious enough, and the horses would have room. “Report back to me in an hour.”
Jon and the captain walked off, Fadon barking orders to the envoy. He spied the princess and her watcher huddling close to each other, both trying to figure out what was going on. He didn’t have it in himself at the moment to stop to explain; they’d learn soon enough.
“Tell me,” Fadon said to Jon once they were out of earshot.
“I’m worried about that approaching storm. I think we need to go back. I remember seeing a possible cave a few miles back, lots of outcroppings. It would be the best place for shelter and would be the better choice than hoping we’ll find something further ahead before it’s too late.”
Fadon looked up at the sky. Above them it was cloudy, but marginally high enough, woven tightly and passively to just be a seasonal blanket of late autumn clouds. But ahead, to the north, a threatening darkness grew.
Would we ever get home? he wondered.
He let out a deep breath, resigned. He knew he couldn’t fight nature, as much as he wanted to. To order the sun to return, to command the weather to cooperate so they’d get home as soon as possible.
“All right. Brief the men. Tell them we’ll start heading back in two hours, if not sooner. That should be enough time to fix those blasted wheels.”
