Rinnet of King's Helm (COMPLETED)

Chapter Twenty-five

By the time they were several days out of Minyavo, Distya and Tregan had come to a silent agreement.

Tregan complained only about the major injustices against his humanity, such as taking too few breaks and not stopping to buy food—they'd been eating nothing but dried meat strips and bread that had been slowly hardening. Distya held up her end of the agreement by allowing these complaints. In the end, it was easier to ignore him than try to argue that he was being foppish. She knew not to expect much from a noble.

And, if she was being honest, she appreciated the company. The chilly weather and dark skies in northern Tevar made for long, dreary travel. She might have taken anyone else given the choice, but at least Tregan was predictable. He contributed as little effort as possible to every task. He was useless, but that meant the chances he'd put in the effort to betray her were slim to none.

They shared that viewpoint more and more each day. Tregan had gotten nothing from life since coming into ownership of the estate, after his father died. He was a joke in Villotta, close to losing his expansive townhouse, and a monster in King's Helm. He expected nothing but difficulty from everyone and everything.

Distya was beginning to understand him.

***

They saw horses approaching when they were three days from the Hatawan border. The group rode out of the thickening tree line a few dozen yards off, black splotches against the dark forest green. Distya kept as tight a grip on her sword as she could until she could see faces. Then her grip loosened.

"Yurovin," she shouted.

The approaching party stopped. She heard their distant voices, sounds but not words. Then the trio came thundering toward her, Yurovin's horse outpacing the others. "Distya!" he called.

Again Distya reached for her sword on instinct. Then, embarrassed, she slipped her hand behind her back as if she were reaching for something in her saddlebag. She watched Yurovin's features come into focus as he got closer. His eyes were wide, and damp.

"It is you," he said in wonder, pulling his horse to a halt. "Distya, I...I can't believe it. You're alive!"

For reasons she couldn't yet explain, Distya went stiff. Hawthorn huffed. "Where's your Coretian baggage?" she asked. "I see Atzovar and Kyelva. Irya sent you with a third."

"I— yes," Yurovin said. He rubbed the green patch on his arm, blinked hard. "She sent Rinnet to cross into Hatawa and try to find out the Coretians' plans against Tevar."

Distya sized up the group as Atzovar and Kyelva came to a halt, looking equally amazed. Then she turned back to Yurovin, whose gaze hadn't yet left her. She thought he looked pale. "And?"

Yurovin opened his mouth, then caught sight of Tregan doing his best to hide himself and Valor behind Distya. "Who is that?"

"Where is Rinnet?"

"Gone," Kyelva said from behind Yurovin. "Defected three days in."

Yurovin shrank as Distya's head turned her head sharply. "She came back to our camp on the Tevarian side the second night," he explained. "She didn't have anything to report. The next day she left early while Kyelva was on watch. Headed up toward Hatawa, but she never came back that night. We waited a full day without her coming back."

"You didn't think to follow her?"

Yurovin frowned. "That wasn't our orders," he said. "And you know how dangerous that area is. We were lucky enough not to be spotted that close to the border."

"Probably just went back to Coreti," Atzovar said with a shrug. "Or decided to stay in Hatawa. The place is swarming with Coretians. Sure she felt right at home."