In a sky with no moon, a golden star burned low on the horizon. It outshone all the constellations in the heavens, pulling the eye, impossible to ignore. There was a legend about this star, a myth about gods and saints wandering the land, holding salvation in one hand and destruction in the other.
A golden star would appear, and the world would change.
Daphne had watched the sky for years, wondering what might be beyond the walls of her father's house, beyond the tiny mountain kingdom that had been home until now. But she had never wanted to leave. Neither happy nor unhappy, she had been content to let it go on as it always had. Content to be ignored, half hoping that it wouldn't change.
But here was the star, and change had come.
The coach rocked, passing over an uneven spot in the road, and she gripped her seat, the view through the small window jumping. It was little more than a dirt track through the mountains, off the main roads, trees and rocks crowding in on either side. There was no one out here, no little towns or villages to pass through, no estates to wander by. Only a wide, unknown wilderness, between her father's castle and Cautes.
Her future home.
Her future husband.
She pushed the thought away, glancing at Olesia and Mae sleeping peacefully on the opposite bench. The questions had finally stopped, each word tentative, barely there, but still managing to crawl beneath her skin, picking at the worry she was fighting to conceal. They weren’t wrong to ask. It had all happened so quickly, a matter of days between the envoy and the signed contract. Everything they questioned, she questioned as well.
Do you think the rumors are true?
Do you think things will work out?
Do you think you’ll be happy?
She envied them their sleep, wishing it would come for her, take her to a dreamless place. They'd been with her through it all, childhood friends and now handmaidens to the third daughter and most minor princess of King Haran. She was grateful they were with her. She'd given them the option to stay behind, and without hesitation, they'd both chosen to come. It was comfort and worry all wrapped into one package. Their fates were now tied with hers. For better or worse they would all have to find a place in this new court.
Outside she could hear Yaron and Adler, the guards her father had sent with her, talking, soft voices, words indistinct. She wondered briefly what they thought of this journey. For them, it would be over in a few short days, and they’d be returning to their families. Their futures would remain unchanged, to go on and be surrounded by their loved ones. But at the end of this journey, change waited for Daphne.
She would be creating a new family. If you could call what lay ahead the possibility of a new family. Her future husband was less than kind, his reputation for cruelty well-known. There would be no happiness in the days ahead. Her father had known but signed and sealed the documents without hesitation. There was no other option. This was the way to save the kingdom from the war rolling across the continent toward them.
Only a high, narrow pass through the Black Stone Mountains offered protection. The Needle. The only way over or through the sprawling mountain range for hundreds of miles. If they could keep it closed, they would survive. But no one had come, despite countless messengers, and no other help had been offered. King Haran had reached out to their closest neighbor, barely an ally, one final time and a bargain had been made. Her life for his soldiers. It would have to be enough. But if it wasn’t, the dark horde of the empire would come through the pass and flood across the plains, destroying everything and everyone.
They’d all heard the stories, and most of the country had begun to flee south and west. But her father was stubborn and refused the messenger who had come from the dark prince, refused to become a minor lord beneath an invader and refused to retreat into exile. He’d even turned away messengers from her distant sisters begging for him to flee. Marius and her father had formed an uneasy alliance, half his troops sealed with a marriage. But she would be a minor wife, one of many, and all had failed to produce an heir. Her father had promised she would the woman to give him what he so desperately searched for.
Daphne leaned back and closed her eyes. Stomach knotting, she resisted the urge to rub her arms or pick at the embroidery on her gown. She focused on each breath, trying to release some of the anxiousness that had filled the last few days. There was no point in being anxious. It wouldn’t change anything. What would be, would be.
The coach bounced over another deep rut, lurching sideways but moving slowly, and the horses neighed, the guards shouted, their fearful voices rising above the sounds of the horses. Someone called out, an unknown, strong male voice, a command, and then more shouts. Daphne sat up, pushing back the curtain over the window, searching the night. With a jerk, the coach stopped, the guards louder now, their voices strained. She shook Mae and Olesia awake, both muzzy with sleep, and held a finger to her lips for quiet, pointing to the window.
“What’s happening?” Olesia whispered.
“The coach stopped,” Daphne said, straining to hear what was happening outside. “There’s shouting.”
“Adler or Yaren?” Mae’s pale eyes were large, brow creasing as she leaned toward the door, listening.
“Someone else.”
The coach rocked as Adler jumped down from the driving perch, shouting as he went. The horses whickered uneasily, the coach swaying as they pulled against the traces. The clashing ring of steel on steel filled her ears, swords crossing, another man shouting.
“Soldiers?” Olesia guessed.
“Are they already here?” Mae asked. The women exchanged a look, fear traveling between them as quickly as lightning.
“Impossible,” Daphne said, trying to get a better view beyond the window. “Father said they were several weeks out. The emissary traveled far ahead of the empire.”
“Bandits then,” Olesia said.
“Or the Wolf.” Mae put a hand over her mouth, covering the name, eyes wide.
Daphne stared at her, the hair on the back of her neck rising. The Wolf. They said he traveled ahead of the horde, preparing the way for the dark prince, a pack of killers led by a monster. If that’s who it was, if these were his men, there would only be one outcome.
“It can’t be,” Olesia shot Mae a hard look. “Yaren said there has been a lot of bandit activity. If the Wolf had crossed the mountains, the whole forest would be burning by now.”
“Would it though? If he were trying to conceal his location?” Mae asked.
Daphne bit her lip, glancing at her, exchanging a look that said more than words could. Bandits or soldiers, it didn’t matter who was outside, it meant danger for them.
“What do we do?” Mae asked, going over the interior of the coach as if a weapon might have materialized while they slept.
“Adler and Yaren will take care of it.” Daphne was relieved her voice remained steady. Her heart was pounding, stomach now a rock made of fear and dread.
“But if they don’t?” Olesia asked.
The coach held only a few things: books, furs to keep the chill off, a basket of food, and another basket full of embroidery materials. There was a deep purple gown with a half-finished pattern around the neckline in a darker shade, handkerchiefs with flowers, a pillowcase edged in gold roses. But in the basket, nestled in a tin, were several pairs of small, sharp scissors. She pulled it toward her, digging through the fabric and floss to find them.
Two pairs, gold handles shaped like graceful birds, the beaks sharp silver. She handed one to each of them, pressing cool metal into their hands, fingers trembling now. Outside the sounds of fighting continued—Alder yelling, a shout from Yaren. Something heavy hit the side of the coach, rocking it, and the women gasped, reaching for each other.
“Hold on to these,” Daphne gasped. “Hide them on you somewhere. Don’t hesitate to use them and run. Do you understand?”
The two nodded, eyes wide and on the door of the coach, many voices now reaching them, the sounds of fighting ending abruptly.
“What about you?” Mae tried to hand the tiny scissors back.
“No, keep it. A title should be enough protection.”
But what if it wasn’t? Nothing was a guarantee. But if anything happened, she wanted her companions to have something to defend themselves with, however small. Torchlight flickered beyond the glass, shadows moving, the darkness touched but not truly lessened by the light. Daphne forced herself to breathe steadily, watching the window and waiting. Olesia and Mae moved to sit on the bench beside her, the three of them squeezed into a space meant for two.
Boots crunched on rocks—swift, sure strides—and then paused. Daphne’s heart pounded, pulse racing as torchlight filtered through the curtains on the coach windows and door, voices murmuring beyond the glass. Mae squeezed her hand; Olesia drew in a hissing breath between her teeth. They sat frozen together, rabbits holding themselves taut in hope of being overlooked, with the hope that they might escape. The coach smelled like fear, Mae and Olesia staring wide-eyed at the door, the three of them holding on to the moment, drawing out the inevitable.
Someone knocked on the door of the coach, two sharp raps in quick succession. A man spoke, a deep strong voice that reached inside her and twisted, plucking a string within her, thrumming through her. Implication and threat, and beneath that a dark, curling promise.
“We have something to discuss, your highness.”