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“Not like that!” said Aedon, his voice a desperate, hoarse shout. “Not everything has to be so black and white.” He turned to Harper. “Harper, we would not steal it from you. We would only use it if you permitted us. There is always another way. We would have found one.”
Harper shook her head. Every time he said her name, with that twang of his lilting voice, it drove the knife deeper into her heart. “Empty words. Lies. I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.”
She felt hollow as she scooped up her belongings and stormed off into the night, having no idea where she went or how far. Her steps carried her from camp as fury and shame fuelled her onward. Once out of the circle of light and away from their presence, she allowed her hot, angry tears to spill forth.
“You stupid, stupid girl,” she cursed herself. “You knew they were thieves, yet you trusted them because they were kind to you. A full belly doesn’t make a friend. Damn it all!”
She had been better fed than in years past, but now she wished she had refused it all. Every mouthful of food, every kind word, every smile… It had been a way for them to get her to lower her guard a little further. When she could walk no farther, stumbling over the peat-filled hollows and heather, she sank onto a rock on the side of the hill as the purple of dawn bled into the sky on the horizon. She watched as dawn illuminated the sweeping moors.
With sinking dread, Harper realized she had no idea where she was. Nor did she have any food or resources to help her survive, not even her knife, which had sailed into the fire. Harper cursed internally—she would not crawl back to them. She could not. Wrapping her cloak around her, she stood and trudged to the top of the hill, a spark of relief lighting in her belly. Far in the distance, a city rose against the mountains. Tournai.
Behind her lay the woodlands they had camped in, and before her lay miles of undulating moors and valleys hidden from view. The river swept through a vast plain beyond, a ribbon of silver against the green. There was nothing for it but to begin walking. Her stomach growled lightly to remind her it was, in fact, breakfast time. She could not help but think wistfully of Ragnar making eggs, meat, and whatever else they could forage or hunt, finished off with a fragrant, warming tea made from local plants. She took deep shuddering breaths to ride through the surge of emotion, picked a direction, and strode on.
45
HARPER
It was not long before they caught up with her. She faintly heard her name shouted on the wind long before she saw them, but no matter how fast she strode, she could not distance herself. That resignation drove into her like a stake to the heart with every step. Eventually, just beyond a ridge, and out of the cold breeze, Harper stopped and turned, waiting, her breath coming hard and her shoulders bowed with exhaustion. She straightened nonetheless, waiting for them to appear. When they did, she stared them down without a word.
“What can I say to make this right?” Aedon asked. Ragnar huffed beside him, slightly out of breath. Brand held back, and Erika lurked behind them all, a brooding, unfriendly presence that Harper ignored.
“Nothing,” Harper said coldly, though her heart ached. Ragnar and Brand seemed regretful. “Nothing you say will make me trust you again.” Unconsciously, her hand clung to the inside of her cloak where the stone lay, as if seeking to reassure herself it was still there.
Aedon shook his head. “Where will you go?” he asked, gesturing to the wide vista around them.
“I’m going to Tournai to return the Dragonheart to the king in exchange for passage home.” Her voice betrayed none of her swirling doubts. She was still unsure what she would ask of the king, but Aedon did not need to know it.
“He won’t send you home, Harper. He’ll kill you.”
“What do you know? You’re liars and thieves. You’ll say anything to get what you want.” Harper edged backwards. Her pulse ratcheted up for another reason now. They outnumbered her. Her eyes darted between them, watching for any sudden movements—ready to turn and flee if they tried to take it from her by force.
“I suppose we deserve that. We’d have to find another way.” Aedon glanced up hopefully. With one look at her stony gaze, his shoulders slumped.
“So be it. We won’t be travelling with you anymore then. We have our own mission to fulfill. We need to find some knowledge in the royal archives to help those villagers and they do not have time for us to waste here with you,” said Erika. She moved off.
Harper bit down on an entirely inadequate retort. The others remained where they were. Brand pursed his lips together. “Fair winds to you. Mayhap our paths will cross again.”
A part of Harper wanted to thank him for her training. The previous morning, they had sparred again. He had shown her how to block attacks and find gaps in her opponent’s attack. For the first time, as clumsy as she remained, something had seemed to click. She held her tongue, her throat blocked and her eyes stinging, and held her own head high, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Brand bowed his head at her silence and ambled after Erika.
She stood in silence with Aedon and Ragnar.
“I’ll miss having you around the campfire, Harper,” said Ragnar with a sad smile. “Goodbye, and good luck—I mean that.”
That one felt like a punch in the gut. Harper exhaled shakily through her nose, blinking away the sting in her eyes. Resisting the urge to break.
Aedon lingered. “Please don’t go,” he murmured. His gaze burned with an intensity Harper did not understand.
She shifted, softening, before steeling herself anew. “My mind’s made up.”
Aedon reached for her, but she stepped beyond his span. He let his hand drop. “Very well.” Aedon sighed, his shoulders slumped. He turned to watch the others, already a distance away, but did not move. “I can’t stay with you, but I don’t want to leave. You’ve barely seen how dangerous this land is, and I don’t want to see any harm come to you.” He pushed a hand through his hair. He did when distressed. Even the realisation that she had cared enough to notice that hurt.
“I can manage,” she said stubbornly, even though she was quite sure she couldn’t. Without even a knife, she could not hunt to sustain herself.
“Look, Harper, this is your last chance. Please, don’t go to Tornai,” he implored. “This will end in folly you cannot even begin to imagine. Plus, we need you. Just as much as your Dragonheart.”
“I have to go,” Harper said. To Tournai, then home. Caledan feels like an ever-fading dream already. Betta needs me. This had all been nothing more than a ridiculous and desperate dream. “This is what’s best for me. Your mission was never mine. I’m grateful for your help,” she allowed herself to concede, “but I can’t stay. Erika was right. I have a different path to follow.”
Aedon sighed heavily. The breeze sighed with him, grazing through the trees and grass, brushing Harper’s hair from her face.
