"Promise me one thing, promise me that you'll never go to the Erdonal Kingdom, promise me that your foot will never step on their land."
I could hear his warning still ringing in my head. Erdonal is the last place one would want to end up at. I said that then, knowing very well that I would break my promise.
My fingers numb, half-frozen from nerves, when I shoved the last few items into the same small leather bag that just a couple hours ago I tried running away with. Most of its content was pointless, but it felt safer to carry it than to leave them behind. The dagger Vogan gave me, sat there. Looking back at me and asking the question. And yet somehow I was able to push aside not only the fact that I had no idea how I will kill King Aslan, but how I will survive and gather information in Erdonal.
With my stomach in knots and my body tense with pressure, I looked around searching for whatever I might've missed.
Daylight vanished in a blink, by the time I left my room, the sky was already dressed in twilight. I swallowed hard, when for the first time in a while my foot stepped out of the camp. The first steps felt hesitant. I haven't done this in a while. Turning back around was not an option, even if my gut was telling me otherwise. I would have to be meticulous, vigilant and scrupulous, one mistake and Erdonal would have my head. There is no space for mistakes. There was too much at stake. The brittle leaves crackled beneath my step, how odd it was that just a couple of feet away from the camp was a completely different greenery. The forest wore a strange kind of green. It was darker, deeper and completely unfamiliar. Erdonal was foreign land, probably in my wildest imagination I could not have imagined things they would do to me if they were to find who I was. A spy, a traitor trying to bring down their Kingdom. But Roe knew that, he entrusted me with this mission, so maybe he believed in me more than I did in myself. He was the one person who took care of me, the one I could trust.
I walked out of the camp without saying a single goodbye. They slow you down. And I had no time for that.
When the camp vanished behind the ridge and the trees in front of me no longer reminded me of silverspines, I took out the old leather pouch. Hardened from the rain of yesterday. Crumbling the second I pulled out the strings, removing an old compass my mother gifted. Nothing expensive, but it was the last thing I had of her. Swirls and letters in the language I did not understand circled it, and in the dead center was a single letter painted with brushstrokes still visible "R".
The distance between the camp and Lady Fairton should've been a short walk, enough for me to cover in no time and avoid being noticed by the Erdonal patrols, which grew bolder and more dangerous over the last few years. There were moments when their soldiers got near enough the camp to make General Varley almost call for support, waiting with breath held if they would notice the well-hidden and camouflaged by moss and silverspines Rasfalian Military Camp. All necessary means were used to achieve the cruel regime of King Aslan, even if it meant conspiring with the witches. They stopped respecting treaties and pacts, by now nothing was off the table, so Rasfalia mirrored their tactics. To survive, Rasfalia, once proud and principled under the protection of God of Honour Lahlan, was resembling Erdonal more and more, and maybe that's when the Gods vanished. Rasfalia was losing their favour in battles and now if we wanted to live we had to find out what Erdonal was planning. Now, I had to save Rasfalia and save my home.
Then my boot sank into something gooey and wet, I jerked back instinctively. There were puddles, many of them, spreading down the path. It dotted the earth like deep holes caving under the weight of something huge. I knew exactly what it was. Hoofprints of Ranian horses. Fresh. Erdonal was here recently. There were rumours about Erdonal breeding ancient breeds to gain superiority, especially horses and bulls, but to see the size of the tracks left in the soggy ground, was something entirely different. I recalled images of these creatures from books, used by the Darian Army of Erdonal, black glossy coats highlighted the framed muscles with liquid obsidian mane and tail. By the size of the hoofprints, the creatures weren't just bigger than an average horse, they were the size of a medium tree.
The light was fading fast, I wasn't exactly afraid. But smart enough not to gamble with it tonight. I braced myself, tightening the straps of my backpack. There was no time to dwell, I needed to keep going and reach Lady Fairton.
From what I was able to gather from Daniel in the last hours before my departure, Lady Fairton was an older woman in her late 60s, fair skin, light brown hair always impeccably coiffed. She had charcoal black eyes, so particular to the region and a trademark feature of many people from those lands.
"She's as arrogant as a peacock during mating season." Daniel's comment made me chuckle. "Trust me, there's one thing Rasfalia and Erdonal can both agree on, is that Lady Fairton's name spits poison." She ranked high between the most hated people on the Continent, Daniel wasn't an exception, he hated her as well and warned me not to trust a thing she says. Yet, among the royal courts she played the game better than most, ambitious and too clever for her own good. Daniel heard from his father that, at the age of sixty Lady Fairton suddenly became a widow of wealthy and renowned Erdonal merchant Sir Lucian Fairton, who owned one of the biggest fleet of ships in the Erdonal called – the Laethan.
"She's smart and ruthless. Before the death of her husband everyone thought of her as just a spoiled, entitled and pretentious noble lady, but she's so much more, Lyra. There's not a single political affair or a decision on the Continent that's done without her some sort of involvement."
Lady Fairton stayed a couple of times in the manor of the Lord Lochstar, on the detour to the Summer Palace, making Daniel see first hand what kind of evil she was.
"Lucian Fairton was a traitor to Erdonal, he was selling precious metals and luminite to Rasfalia. Without questioning, Erdonal found out and hanged him immediately, seizing all their wealth. But let's just say Lady Fairton's noble title goes beyond treason because somehow she managed to stay alive even if she's far from being favourite in the Erdonal Court."
"So why is she helping Rasfalia?"
"She grew up here, her father's side of the family are Rasfalian, I believe she hopes Rasfalia will take her back and protect her from Erdonal. I guess this is her way out." It made me realise that it was as dangerous for Lady Fairton as it was for me, and deeply in my heart I hoped that her being still alive after all the treason of her husband will mean that I will not die right at the border. She had as much risk as me. It would have been the last drop if Erdonal would find out she smuggled a spy into the royal court. So at least, this was deadly for both of us.
The woods were getting thicker and by the end of the road I could see tiny sources of bleak light coming out of what it seemed like a carriage with four horses harnessed to it. There was no one around to follow me, I made sure of that. The air was colder now, Erdonal laid further North and I could immediately feel the sudden drop in temperature. From a distance, horses came into view. Covered with silk canopy enriched with golden threats and brocades covered with stones on the side. All four horses wore a deep emerald green cover with a massive crest of two headed eagles fading into black coat of the animals. What drew my attention instantly were the sturdy wheels covered with leather straps specifically made for the mountainous regions; you wouldn't see those often in Rasfalia.
I inhaled sharply, forcing stillness to my shaking hands and praying that I could control any pulse of power that would appear. I breathed again deeper. Two Erdonal soldiers glanced at me immediately when I appeared from the horizon. They could not see even a glimpse of fear in me. Dressed in black tunics with a strict tall neckline, wide belt bearing Erdonal's crest and their military ranking. Black wool trousers neatly tucked into the tall leather boots, buried motionlessly in the soil. There was weight in their shoulders, warning before speaking, stirring unease in my chest. Their faces, their clothes and the way they stood, was all so distant from everything I knew and found familiar. They weren't the ones from my nightmares, the ones who took my mother away. Still, I approached with caution.
Symmetrical details infused with gold and luminite, insignias of the House of Fairton and the crest of Erdonal were prominently displayed on the doors, while smaller versions of it repeated itself on the wheels of the carriage. I crossed the final steps, when I found myself within an arm's reach of the soldiers. All the meticulous finishing of the carriage made me question how someone who on the outside looked like a supporter of the regime could betray it so shamelessly.
"Lady Lyra, I presume." One of the soldiers took a step forward, his chest rose stiffly. He had a strong Northern accent, sounding nothing like the people in Rasfalia. It was crispier and more commanding.
"You presume correctly." I replied, trying to mimic it, yet the slight twist of the lips of the other soldier clearly amused him to even watch me try.
"Please, Lady Lyra." Again, the accent scraped my ears. This time it was more pulsating and guttural. I would have to get used to it, pretend like it wasn't foreign to me.
I nodded, before glancing at him again. There was nothing about him that would say he was a servant. He looked…groomed. Not fitting any of the stories, or images I had of the war-worn brutes. There was nothing rough about him, no blood soaked uniform or scratches, no old cloak or dirt-stained boots. Most of the soldiers of Erdonal were savages, former slaves, bodies used for fighting the battle of King Aslan. Yet he didn't match any of those descriptions I read about in the textbooks. Then again, maybe his refinement wasn't something strange after all, if he served the crown and the noble lady, maybe it was expected.
The carriage door cracked open, and the soldier whose looks I have been dissecting, offered me his hand. I took it and climbed the wooden stair, before glancing at my own boot, which was nowhere as polished as the soldier's. The scent of perfume wrapped around me the moment I leaned inside. It was unlike anything I smelled before, a mix of amber with sea salt, wrapped in the flower petals. I inhaled so deep that it made my head light, as I almost lost my footing.
There she sat. Her cold gaze tearing straight through me. I was about to greet her, when she lifted her head suddenly.
"You're late." Lady Fairton snapped with icy precision. She looked sculpted, almost regal in her stillness. Dark hair meticulously pulled back and tucked in.
I opened my mouth. "I…didn't–"
"Doesn't matter." She cut me off.
I didn't even reach the second step, when her voice again sliced through the air. "You should change." She looked me up and down with thinly veiled disgust, like I was something clinging to the sole of her boot.
"Is it necces–"
She cut me off again. "You look feral. Not like a niece of a noble lady."
"I didn't think this would…"
"Darling, this is not appropriate for any court."
With a smallest flick of her fingers, she summoned the soldiers. All of them sprang into action, hauling an enormously large leather-bound case from the back of the carriage. Piece by piece, they began unpacking the case. Dresses in every shade imaginable – green, blue, red and soft gold, each more breathtaking than the last. Jewellery embroiled with gold and luminite, seemed so fragile like one unsteady move and it would break. Warm shoes gleamed in rich velvet fabrics. I gasped with the obscene amount of abundance in one place. While I stood there mesmerised, Lady Fairton watched me with focus and curiosity.
"Go there and try it." She pointed towards the tree. Before I could ask or answer anything, all the dresses, shoes and jewels were shoved into my hands. Once again, I felt like I was back in the camp carrying buckets of water for the training.
I exhaled, probably louder than I expected.
"I heard that! And hurry, we don't have the whole night." She commanded again.
Five minutes. It all it took for me to fully understand the legend surrounding her persona.
For the next ten agonising minutes, I kept changing dresses from behind the tree. Each dress felt colder than the last one, undressing in the heart of winter made my skin nearly translucent, lips trembling and fingers blue and stiff. Every gust of wind felt like it was cutting me like a knife. It didn't matter how many times I changed, or the fact that I was shivering like a leaf. Each time I emerged from behind the tree, Lady Fairton watched me with bored eyes, unimpressed. Again, dismissing me with a single motion. Through all of it, the soldiers never once looked away or even glanced down. Their eyes remained locked forward.
Just as I was on the verge of murder, ready to shove the entire case back into her lap, there buried at the very bottom my eyes caught something. Long emerald green dress. It shimmered. The fabric seemed to shift the color with the light, sometimes emerald, sometimes the faintest blue. With flowing long sleeves and a long and narrow waistline. It was unlike any of the others. I picked it up gently by the edge.
When once again I emerged from behind the tree, I waited for the flick of Lady Fairton's hand, the glare and then the sight. But she stayed silent. Still. No comment. For the first time, she seemed like she was lost for words.
"That'll do." Her eyes swept me from head to toe. The sharpness in her eyes dulled as for a moment, the color slipped from her face. "That'll do."
She looked at me like she had something to say, but instead she turned around and melted back into the carriage.
Then came her voice, firm and carrying the same confidence as before.
"We're done here. Let's get moving."