Morning dew glistened under the early morning sunlight when Theo and Freya exited the castle the next morning, and a delicate veil of fog draped low over the city. The castle, located at the very center of the town, towered amidst the clustered houses of the city’s inhabitants. Encircling the heart of the city, a river meandered—part natural, part man-made, carved out two hundred years earlier to ensure the city had a steady water supply.

  In the distance, the mountains rose toward majestically the sky.

  “We’ll follow the river to the Silvershard Mountains,” Freya said. “There’s a clan of dragons living in the woods and mountains beyond it, the Craggy Peaks.”

  “Oh, joy,” Theo mumbled. His heart pounded with fear and trepidation—what would he not give to be in the kitchens baking bread for breakfast, rather than standing there in his most durable shoes with a heavy backpack on his back?

  But now this was his reality, and he would have to make the best of it. Stay alert, lest he be killed by some manner of monster in the woods—dragons were, after all, not the only beasts hiding there.

  At least he had the best possible companion with him. Freya stood resolute and unyielding, her steely gaze fixed on the horizon. Theo couldn’t help but admire her unwavering determination—he wished he had half of it.

  She glanced at him. “Got everything?”

  “You packed the backpack,” Theo said. “Well, most of it.”

  He may have added a few goodies to enjoy on the way. Freshly baked mini loaves of cranberry-walnut bread, wrapped securely to prevent crumbling, that he may have been down in the kitchen making before the sun even began coloring the sky, together with a tin of chocolate chip cookies.

  In short, necessities of life.

  A stable boy came out with their horses, packed and ready. No one who saw the horses and the riders would doubt which horse belonged to which human. Freya’s stallion Ebony, a bundle of muscles and nerves covered in black fur, was faster than most horses in the kingdom, but would sometimes jump at the sight of his own shadow. Brioche, on the other hand, was a caramel colored mare who had been Theo’s preferred horse for several years, who usually didn’t frighten easily.

  Meeting dragons might change that up, though.

  Both horses snorted in the crisp morning air, their breaths misting in puffs around them.

  Theo looked back at the castle, imagining his mother coming out to tell him goodbye. Her face would be a mask of regal concern, her light blond hair cascading down her shoulders, and her robes would have whispered against the stones as she moved with a grace Theo had not inherited.

  She had been too young to be taken from them.

  In his daydream, she said to him, “Theo, my heart. You make sure you come back, you hear me?” He imagined her voice was steady despite the emotion in her eyes.

  “Yes, Mom,” he would have replied, biting back any comments about how there would have been no need for him to come back, had his father not sent him off.

  In his dream, she cupped his cheek in her hand, and he wished it was real, wished he could have just one more moment with her. He wanted to feel the warmth of her palm, but all he felt was the cool morning air.

  “You are more than you give yourself credit for,” she said softly in his dream, echoing words she had said to him countless times before. She had always thought more of him than he thought of himself.

  He would never hear those words for real again.

  He opened his eyes, finding no one there. Was his mom still watching from somewhere? Was there a life after this one, from where she could see him? If she could, did she worry about him?

  His heart ached with how much he missed her.

  When the door opened, he had a moment when he mixed up dream and reality, thinking that maybe it was his mother coming out to bid him goodbye—but of course, it wasn’t. Instead, Ariana stepped outside. She wore a black dress that may have been the same one as the day before, or perhaps it was just one who looked a lot like that one—after all, Duchess Rosewick was not the type who would let Ariana go around in the same dress two days in a row.

  “Lady Ariana,” Freya said. “I didn’t think you’d be up this early.”

  Ariana didn’t respond, but turned to Theo. “I just thought I’d say goodbye.” Her voice was quiet, as if she didn’t want to disturb the morning. Next to her, Freya was so forceful. “And wish you good luck.”

  “Thanks,” Theo said. “We’ll need it. Or I will, anyway.”

  Ariana cast her gaze down to the ground. She kept her hands clasped in front of her, her shoulders hunched as if she wanted to make herself as small as possible.

  Trying to lighten the mood, Theo said, “If I don’t return, at least you’ll get out of marrying me.”

  Ariana looked up at that, her mouth falling open. “Your Highness—”

  “Theo, still,” Theo said.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  “That’s not funny,” Ariana said.

  Theo shrugged. No, it wasn’t, and he didn’t feel like dying.

  Ariana turned to Freya. “Will you take care of him?”

  “I will guard him with my life, Lady Ariana,” Freya replied, bowing her head slightly. “It is my duty.”

  While she might roll her eyes a lot, and Theo might have jested with her, he really had no doubt that Freya would do everything to keep him safe. He just wasn’t sure that would be enough.

  With no more words left to say, Ariana retreated into the shadows of the castle gate.

  As Theo was about to sit up on his horse, the gate opened again. Theo’s heart lurched at the sight of his father striding out, dressed in full royal garb even at this early hour.

  “Father,” Theo said. Had his father come to tell him that this was stupid, that it had all been a ruse to shake him up?

  “Theodore,” his father said with a nod, stopping a little more than an arm’s length away, far enough that there was no unspoken invitation for physical contact.

  Theo peered at him, waiting, his heart thrumming. Oh, how he wished his father’s next words would be that he didn’t need to seek out the dragons.

  “I came to wish you safe travels,” his father said in a clipped tone, clasping his hands behind his back like the leader of an army.

  “Oh,” Theo said, trying not to show how much those words made him deflate. All hope leaked out, like water from a sieve. “Thanks?”

  His father motioned to one of the two servants who had come out with him, and the servant came forward with a sheath from which an ornate handle stuck out.

  “This is the crown prince’s sword,” his father said. “Since you are now, finally, shouldering your responsibilities, it’s only right that you have it.”

  He took the sword and sheath from the servant and held it out for Theo. Theo stared at it.

  “A… sword?”

  “Yes,” his father said. “Dwarven made, light and easy to handle. Powerful in the right hands.”

  Powerful for someone who had any talent with a sword, Theo thought. “Right. Uh. Thank you.”

  They stood there, regarding at each other, and Theo had never felt the glass wall between them more acutely than at that moment. He wished his father would let his guard down for just a second, to hug Theo like his mom always had, or just to touch his shoulder—something.

  But no.

  Would he be more impressed with Theo if Theo returned having accomplished his task? Would he be glad when Theo returned? Theo wasn’t sure. Sometimes it felt like his father would only move the bar further up if Theo ever reached it.

  Then again, the bar was set pretty low at the moment.

  His father lingered a breath longer, his hand coming up to stroke a gentle hand down the mare’s nose. He carefully did not look at Theo, but Theo took him in—the slight hunch to his normally so proud shoulders, the weariness in the lines of his face. Was he sad that Theo was leaving? Did he regret having to send Theo away on such a dangerous mission?

  Did he miss the queen the way Theo did?

  Letting his hand drop, the king looked at Theo, and Theo imagined there was a hint of fear in his father’s eyes. “The kingdom is counting on you. Don’t fail.”

  Then he gave Freya a small nod, before turning. The mist swept around his feet as he strode back into the castle.

  Theo stared after him.

  Don’t fail.

  He wouldn’t.

  At least not on purpose.

  Looking down at the sword, he shook his head. His father had really gifted him a sword, of all things. When he had fastened it to his side, he moved around, trying to get used to the unfamiliar weight.

  At least Freya had the sense not to say anything. Once Theo had mounted his horse, they nodded one final time to each other, before pressing their heels gently to their horses’ sides, guiding them across the courtyard and out through the castle gates.

  They made quick work of the winding streets of the town—though the delicious scents of a nearby bakery made Theo want to ask for a break not five minutes into their journey—and then they were out, leaving the early morning bustle of the town behind.

  Before them, large fields spread out, and then, in the distance, the forest.

  The early part of their journey passed in a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Theo tried his best to pretend it was no more than a longer-than-usual excursion and that they would soon be headed back, though thoughts of dragons with sharp teeth kept pushing themselves into his head.

  The sun climbed higher, casting its warmth across the land and illuminating the path that wound through the thickening woods. Birds chirped above, and the scent of pine and earth filled the air, a peaceful backdrop to their daunting quest.

  Every now and then, Theo glanced down at the sword sheathed on his hip. A sword. It felt like a joke, like his father was making fun of him at a distance. How could it be a heartfelt gift, with what his father knew of Theo’s lacking sword fighting skills?

  Freya broke the silence, her voice cutting through the rustle of the leaves. “We should reach the edge of Nebulon territory by nightfall tomorrow if we keep this pace up.”

  “Nebulon territory,” Theo said on a sigh.

  “The Nebulon dragon clan,” Freya said.

  Theo grimaced. “Yeah, I know.” Instead of whining, he asked, “Any chance of stopping for lunch soon?”

  By now, his behind and legs were aching from the lengthy ride, and his stomach kept making noises to inform him of just how much it wanted sustenance. The only break they’d taken so far was to let their horses drink a few times from streams they had come across, with Theo taking each chance to dismount, stretch, and look at curious marks on the ground left there by animals and beasts.

  Freya pursed her lips, as if Theo were a weighty chore that just bogged her down. He felt like one—without him, she would probably already be meeting with the head of the dragon clan.

  Except they wouldn’t see her, because she wasn’t of royal blood.

  Stupid rules.

  “Fine,” she said. “We’ll find some place to stop. I’ve got to check my maps, anyway.”

  Theo faked a gasp, a hand coming up to his chest. “What, haven’t you memorized them?”

  She glared at him. “It was better when you were silent.”

  Theo sighed. He wasn’t making it easy for her, and he should be making it easier. Somehow.

  A village came up soon after, though ‘village’ was a big word for it—it was more like a quaint collection of thatched cottages and winding dirt paths, nestled between the verdant roll of the forest and the encroaching wild lands.

  “That looks like a tavern,” Theo said, pointing at a slightly larger house. His stomach gave a loud grumble as if to emphasize that tavern meant food and he needed food. He was a prince—he was used to meals at regular intervals.

  “Fine,” Freya said. “Maybe they can give us some useful information.”

  “And lunch,” Theo said, because that was far more important. How could she not need food? Or did she have chocolate or something tucked away in the bag strapped over her shoulder?

  Perhaps she snuck bites of goodness while he wasn’t looking. He thought of the cookies in his bag. How annoyed would Freya be with him when she realized he had spent some valuable space in his backpack on baked goods?

  As they rode into the village, their horses’ hooves clattered against the cobblestone square, drawing the curious gazes of villagers. They dismounted and Theo winced, the muscles of his body stiff and aching already. If the dragons didn’t kill him, the long journey just might.

  The tavern was a sturdy building with a sign swaying gently in the breeze, depicting a frothy mug of ale—sure to entice any travelers.

  Freya’s eyes scanned the small crowd gathering around them, and she said quietly, “Keep it simple. We’re just travelers here, no mentions of your heritage, got it?”

  Theo’s gut churned uncomfortably.