Page 52 of The Faceless Queen

“Precisely.”

I stifled a groan but allowed him to help me climb up onto the stag’s back. My body began to blur into the moonstag’s feathers and fur as I settled down, the cloak taking on the moonstag’s tawny shades. Once the Hermit climbed up behind me, he took hold of the reins, ordering the stag to fly.

It stretched out its neck from side to side, its head swiveling gracefully, as it shook out its wings, and began to trot forward, moving us out from beneath the trees. When we reached another clearing, the stag picked up its pace, nearly leaping with every step, until it leapt into the air, its wings flapping. The woodlands grew small beneath us as we flew higher, and soon I could see the border of Eskalon and the roof of the castle. In the far distance, past the fields was the city, Tavonia, Eskalon’s center of commerce. It led all the way into Batron, the outer district where Geoffrey’s had been.

My old home would have been too far east for me to see, even at my vantage point. Then again, that was if there was any of the tavern left. My heart panged. I hoped with everything inside of me that everyone was okay. Not too hurt, or scared. And hopefully already finding somewhere else to live, and work.

We flew closer to the keep. The buildings below us ended in a wall, much like we had in Azeal. Beyond it stood Lafir Castle. It was built of gray stone and featured multiple towers that all connected to the central keep through small bridges. Just outside the northernmost gates sat the jousting field. At this height, I had a clear view. Flags full of the sigils for the different royal houses had already been erected. Strings full of smaller flags crisscrossed above the field, tied to poles in each corner. The strings alternated between flags that were red and blue, the colors of House Lafir, and purple and silver, House Kanos. Olivay’s. Mine now.

Raised pavilions had been erected against the edge of the field where the tournament would take place. Each one decorated with flags and sigils to represent the royal house who’d be seated within them.

For the commoners, I could see raised benches and roped-off sections of grass. The stag slowed its flight beyond the wall, and turned, flying toward the castle’s looming watch towers. A soldier of House Lafir wearing the sigil of the blue moonstag with red flames on his tunic began to wave us over. Silver armor covered his arms, and a black leather belt had been tightened around his waist, holding a single sheathed sword, much in the style of Lord Brandon.

“Lean forward,” the Hermit said suddenly. “All the way against the moonstag before he sees you.”

I repositioned myself, suddenly unsteady against the stag’s jerky movements. I made the mistake of looking down and seeing just how many turrets and parapets my body could hit as I fell. I wrapped my arms around the stag’s neck more tightly. I couldn’t see anything in that position. Its wings blocked my view. Which probably meant it was blocking the view of anyone who might see me. Including the soldier on guard in the watch tower.

“Identify yourself,” he called out.

The Hermit pulled back on the reins, and the moonstag’s wings flapped rapidly, holding us in place for inspection. I sucked in a breath.

“Lord Brandon, House Eranos. Spartva’s ambassador,” the Hermit said, his accent still affected.

“Ah, Lord Brandon,” the soldier replied with a chuckle. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to stop you.”

“Not at all,” the Hermit said, his body shifting like he was waving the man’s concerns off. “Don’t think of it. Just doing your job. Keeping us all safe. As well as her.”

“Big night for your princess, ain’t it?” the soldier asked.

The Hermit laughed and slapped his knee. “You have no idea.”

I rolled my eyes. His impression of a nobleman was so obnoxious. So snobby. Though admittedly, entirely accurate from my experience.

“Will I see you at the tourney, friend?” the Hermit asked.

“Aye, if my partner arrives in time,” the soldier said. He sounded wistful. “Haven’t seen a joust in a minute. Bit of an honor to see the crown prince out and playing so publicly, ain’t it? Usually hides away.”

“Ah, well, our prince is rather private, but well protected.”

I could practically see the overly obnoxious wink Lord Brandon offered as he spoke.

“Just presentations tonight,” the guard continued. “Will definitely be there for the fights tomorrow.”

“Ah well, then everyone wins. I must be on my way. I do hope to see you there on whichever night you attend,” the Hermit called, his body leaning into mine as he reached for the stag’s head and urged him to fly forward.

“Can I sit up now?” I asked, gritting my teeth.

The Hermit pushed a hand on my back, holding me in place. “Not yet.”

The stag turned direction again, and a moment later, my stomach lurched as we touched down on a bridge. I could hear the distinct sound of hooves against stone, our flight transforming into a skip before our moonstag stilled.

“Now?” I asked.

“Now?” he mocked. “Now you can keep quiet, and keep your head down,” the Hermit hissed.

I started to lift up, beyond annoyed. I’d made my bed with this bargain. I knew what I had to do. But he couldn’t control my every fucking move.

Except he could. Because the second I started to lift my head up, the scar on my left wrist began to burn. The blood oath wasn’t happy.