Clothes soaked with sweat invited chill into Artowen’s bones. They had been moving without rest, intent on reaching Rynswater. Aunt Idwyn had been mostly confident in her navigation choices, but when uncertain, she would rely on Mav’s intuition. Whether they were in unfamiliar territory or a clouded night sky with no stars, Mav would somehow guide them out. Not through the ability of a deity, but by natural-born skill. Artowen had come to greatly admire that in his new friend.

  Cutting through the land was hard work, but they continued on, through thickets, over frozen lakes, and around gorges. Hunting food as they went; rest was scarce. I must put the safety of Royce and Emerii behind me. They will not fall there.

  A gray day with light snowfall. For once, his aunt appeared listless, though they still traveled toward their destination. Once in a while, she would stare at the sky, gazing at something that only she could see, far beyond the clouds.

  “We have long escaped our pursuers,” Mav said, perhaps sensing the strange mood. “There is no possible way the Uxsons are this far north, either.”

  “We should be able to make it to Rynswater easily then. Our opposition will not suspect us so close. Our real contention will occur inside the capital.” Aunt Idwyn said airily, uninterested.

  “I think it would be best to avoid other towns and patrols for now, even if there is no immediate danger.”

  She nodded, then a few moments of silence ensued. “Is it that time already? The day the year turns, welcoming the birth of new hope.”

  Artowen and Mav glanced at each other in confusion. “Aunt Idwyn, the turn of the year is still weeks off. I cannot claim the current date as our harried travel has blended night and day, but I know that much.”

  “I do not blame you for the confusion, Lady Idwyn, but Artowen is correct. It is still weeks away.”

  Aunt Idwyn seemed to snap back to her usual self. “My apologies, I was not thinking of our usual celebration. I was contemplating the old calendar. In that way, neither of us was wrong.”

  “Old calendar?” Mav asked.

  “Yes, from a time long ago. According to that system, now would be the turn of the year. It is my personal belief that it is more correct than what we currently use.” Her eyes suddenly sharpened. “But enough of that. How many days until Rynswater?”

  Mav stiffened. “At this current pace and path, four, maybe five days.”

  “Good. This is the time to discuss our plan then.” She gave a devilish smile. “Unfortunately, Mav, you may not enjoy this much.”

  Rynswater, the New Capital City of Bardoo. Mav’s city, his home. He traversed the crowded streets with his companions in tow. Hood up, he led them through the press without slowing a step. Ignoring hawkers, he swiftly stepped left and took an alley.

  An unfortunate circumstance that he could not go to the roofs, but the streets were as much under his domain as the skies. In the distance, the castle loomed, the target Mav was aimed at.

  Don’t get caught! Can’t be found out. Despite his wishes, he offered that prayer to God as commanded by his patron. He couldn’t let his true feelings be known; otherwise, the world would conjure the opposite reality into existence.

  Quickened pace losing steam, he relinquished his haste to allow the others to catch up. Faces he knew he avoided. Still, the main road was the surest route to their destination. As such, they continued on it, only swerving into alleys and other roads to get around things that would threaten their goal.

  To his left, a group of city watch. He took a quick detour, then returned to the main road. Mav could sense eyes on him and knew that they now had the attention of the guards. His features were a signal that he had arrived in the capital. Not good, not in the slightest.

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  Had he been recognized? The time to process did not come as a guard met him at the mouth of the alley he had taken. The guard was wary, but had yet to draw his blade. Behind Mav’s companions, more members of the city watch were running. Before anything else occurred, Mav threw his knee into the guard’s gut, then slammed his fist into his unprotected face. Apparently, the guard had not expected that.

  Jumping over the slumped body, Mav broke into a sprint, followed by the two companions he was leading. The chase through the city had properly begun.

  They had to reach their destination, but each path was blocked. Soldiers on the left. Soldiers on the right. Chasing them continuously into a final trap. If he were alone, he could have escaped, but with the two following slowly behind, that was an impossibility.

  When Lady Idwyn had suggested this plan, he knew it would not work. His skin and features stuck out strikingly against the Drajin; they knew who he was and the people he was guiding. A marker drawing them to the Promised One and the Truthsayer.

  Forced through a narrow corridor, they sprinted forward, the light cascading down and shining brightly, blinding. Still, they could only move in one direction, which led to the end of the passage.

  An open square, or what should have been one. Instead, the area was filled with soldiers, crossbows aimed, spears leveled, swords drawn. Surrounding Mav, aimed at him and his companions. Quickly, he tried to retreat from whence they came, but that area was already filling with more enemies.

  Resigned, he pulled his hood down and raised his hands to the sky. His two companions cowered, the hoods still covering their faces. They had been captured. Mav’s prayers had been answered. Hopefully, that was enough.

  The new King of Bardoo sat upon his throne, his fingers rapping against his armrest. A common habit that he tried to cover. Truly unkingly, but the only ones in the room were two of his most trusted soldiers and the old Truthsayer.

  His plans were proceeding smoothly, even though he had been forced to accelerate them. The Uxsons were devouring land to the south, and Bardoo was unprepared to deal with it. So the friendly Territory next to them would step in and assist. That was the draft for his vision, and it was working.

  There was a list of issues. The death of the Truthsayer and Promised One had yet to be reported, though it was possible their bodies had already been torn apart and fed to Uxson dogs. The placing of his pieces was taking some time, but once it was revealed that the Uxsons were invading and defense was needed, the holdouts would welcome succor. Then the transfer would go smoothly. Any who opposed after that would have to deal with it or flee to a different Kingdom.

  “Your smile is showing, Sire,” The old Truthsayer said.

  “You cannot blame me. Soon Bardoo’s safety and prosperity will be secured. We will finally be able to combat the Uxsons and leave the other foolish Dradris Kingdoms to fall. It is no surprise I am jubilant. In actuality, I should be dancing at this moment. This Kingdom will finally be reborn.”

  “Thanks to my skills, the Uxsons have been quite accommodating in their part of this plan. Nevertheless, it is too soon to let your guard down.”

  “Always one to lecture.”

  Boots on stone. He knew that sound, could hear the swift pace that was carrying those familiar feet. The King prepared himself.

  The Champion walked through the entrance to the throne room, a smile upturning his grayed mustache. “I have received word that they have been captured, Sire.”

  The King’s features lit as he bellowed a laugh. “See Truthsayer? It was ordained that our plans would work. I don’t think we can eliminate Idwyn, but her puppet will meet its end. Along with that, her dreams for the future will be severed, and she will be no threat to our vision. Especially if we let her rot for some years, though that may prove a difficulty.”

  “Sire,” The old Champion addressed the new King, “I ask that you spare Mav.”

  The King waved his hand dismissively. “Of course. He played his part spectacularly, and he is not one to strike at us even if Idwyn ordered him to.”

  “He is the best royal runner,” The Truthsayer giggled.

  “Put the Promised One to death immediately and quietly. Then we will leave Idwyn to think on her failures. Feel free to release Mav.” The King ordered.

  The Champion bowed, then swiveled to exit the room, but then hesitated for a moment. That was when the King heard it as well. A ruckus from beyond his sanctum. The roar of voices, a cacophony of stampeding humans.

  What could be occurring? Did word of Idwyn’s capture and mistreatment somehow reach the ears of those who opposed him? He sent a glare at his Champion, but the man shook his head, already knowing the pressing question that was on his lips. There was no way for this to have gotten out; their eyes would have been on them the instant they stepped into the city. Even a letter would not have stirred the castle to this degree.

  Then two figures approached, hooded in plain cloaks. They had pushed past his chosen guards effortlessly as other soldiers of Bardoo and the accursed councilmen surrounded the figures. Not to imprison them. No, they rallied behind them.

  Those two dropped their hoods, and he immediately understood. The man the King had never seen before stared at him with fierce, indignant eyes. Every feature matched the woman at his side. The two people he had tried to prevent from entering his Kingdom, his palace.