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Erika shot him a glance.
Aedon returned it, shrugging. “Lost, used—what does it matter? Semantics. I had no choice if we were to escape alive.”
Harper glanced between them, wondering quite what had happened in the vaults. That fire had been completely out of control.
“We’re alive, but we only have your Dragonheart now, Harper,” Aedon said. “May we use it? The choice is yours.”
Harper did not know what to say. Her plans had changed by necessity, she realised. The Dragonheart was no longer her means to return to Caledan. Now, the Dragonheart had a greater potential use. The magic of how it had moved her was so unknown it could not be replicated. The king would most certainly not trade it for passage home. And, her time with the spymaster and his promise of freedom had never extended so far. He sprang into her mind—the slump of his proud shoulders, and his parting words. “Go do some good with that.”
She realised that she might have started to relinquish that idea after all—to return home. What kind of home was it? She had wanted to leave so badly, and she had nothing to want to return to. Only Betta. The thought of the old woman stirred familiar guilt, but if Harper was so far away it was nigh on impossible to return anyway, at what point did she have to accept that the notion of returning was nothing more than that—a thought that kept her trapped in an old life she did not want anyway. Betta would have to survive without her, because there was no other way about it—and Harper could not be responsible for that. The old woman was fiercely independent. She had survived before Harper and she would survive after.
This? This was an opportunity for Harper to find the courage to step up and embrace the opportunity she had always dreamed of. Everything she wanted to achieve lay on the other side of the fear standing in her way. Would she allow it to defeat her after what she had faced? Being dropped into a new and unfamiliar land, hunted by wood elves, withstanding the cruelty of a malicious king, surviving a court of sorcery and secrets—surviving the spymaster—and more. Whilst she had scrubbed tankards, served patrons, and avoided their lecherous attention… this was exactly what she had dreamed of. Wasn’t it?
Brand strode back into camp, distracting her. “No scouts that I can see. Perhaps we outran them, or maybe your charms have worked better than the last time we fled, Aedon.”
Aedon winced. He would not live down that the elves of Tir-na-Alathea had tracked them so easily for quite some time, Harper surmised. She stifled a small smile.
“We’re safe for today?” Ragnar asked.
“For today, and it’s worth us lying low and resting. We have a tough journey ahead, even with the horses to speed our return. On the morrow, we must leave with the dawn.”
Aedon turned to her, his face filled with expectant hope.
There were so many other questions she had—about Aedon’s fearsome display of magic, about Dimitrius. So many about Dimitrius. Yet one was most pressing upon her mind.
Another journey, thought Harper, but am I to join them on it?
73
HARPER
Aedon swung his cloak around his shoulders and fastened the clasp around his neck. Behind him, Brand, Ragnar, and Erika waited, eager to put distance between themselves and the king, and to return to the village with the cure.
He turned to Harper, who was ready and waiting, too. She had never before appreciated how beautiful freedom was. Every blade of grass seemed greener, the rustle of the trees a sweeter lullaby, the kiss of the sun on her face more sensuous. The morning sun bathed them in light, and the clear skies were filled with the promise of better things.
“So,” he said, his tone deliberately light, but Harper could see the worry that lurked within. “Do we have one more to journey with us on our quest?”
Harper scanned their faces. Anxiety lurked in the pit of her stomach. Each bore the same grim, yet carefully blank expression and stood with bated breath, waiting for her answer. This was it. Her resolve settled, the instinct within her humming with contentment at her choice.
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” she said. “If you’ll have me, that is.” She hesitated. They had parted on such poor terms, and even though they had come to rescue her, she still felt some kind of rift there, a bitterness on her part born of the hurt of their betrayal. That would take time to heal.
“You’re one of us now,” Brand said. Ragnar nodded in agreement, and even Erika jerked her head in what seemed to be support.
Harper’s smile widened. “Thank you.”
“Let’s go,” said Aedon, turning away. “Not another second to waste. People are counting on us for this cure.” They mounted their three horses, and Aedon offered a hand to pull Harper up onto his mount.
She reached into her cloak, and instead of giving him her hand, placed the weight of the Dragonheart in his palm. He stared at her, the wordless question in his eyes. “Take it. It’s needed.”
“You’re sure?” he breathed, as though he did not dare voice it too loudly in case she changed her mind.
“I’m certain.” Dimitrius’s words rang in her mind. “Let’s do some good with it.” And only then, when he had tucked it most carefully into the satchel on the side of the horse and murmured his astounded thanks, did she reach out her hand to allow him to haul her up into the saddle.
For the first time, she felt as though she lived the life she had sought. This was the adventure she had dreamed of—the chance to make something better of and for herself. And she did not have to do it alone. Here, she had a new family of sorts, a found one that somehow worked for all the odd individuals it brought together. Returning to them felt like slipping on a glove. They were as at ease with her as she was with them. Somehow, she fit in, in her own strange way, as though there was still room for her to find her feet—but they had her back. After all she had already endured with them, she felt as though she had earned her place there now.
“Come on, Harper. We haven’t got all day.” Aedon grinned and pulled her up behind him. Harper settled behind him and wound an arm around his stomach, as her own lurched with the rush of what was to come next.
For the first time in a long while, Harper felt alive. In that moment, she did not care when or if she returned to Caledan, and she certainly did not want to return to Tournai to see the king or the spymaster again. For now, she had a new home on the road, a new adventure whispering promises of novelty into her blood, and she could not wait to see what happened next. On to use the Dragonheart for good—and whatever lay beyond.
