Helga picked up a set of bright red cloaks lying on the bed. “You’d best put these on.” She held one out. “Prince Anton had them purchased down in the village this morning. I heard he paid a fortune.”
Céline didn’t doubt it. Both cloaks were of fine quality, dyed a rich shade of scarlet. Only a prince could afford to buy two such ready-made garments at a moment’s notice.
Amelie reached out and touched one. “Won’t these make us look more like ladies of court just playing at being healers?”
Céline took a cloak and put it on, leaving the hood down so that it rested on her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that this Captain Keegan believes we’re seers and healers from Anton’s court sent to help him.”
Ironically, they both were seers from Anton’s court, and Céline was a skilled healer, but no one at Ryazan could know they were peasants who, until a few months ago, had been scraping out an existence in a tiny, muddy village under the harsh thumb of Damek’s rule. They would need to command respect if they intended to conduct a proper investigation.
By way of answer, Amelie donned her cloak as well.
Turning, Céline looked into a tall mirror on the stand in the corner. Amelie stood beside her, and they appeared as two respectable young healers preparing for a journey.
“What about my hair?” Amelie asked.
“If anyone asks, we’ll tell them you had a fever and I had to cut it off, and it’s just now growing back out.”
“Right, then. Are we ready?”
Céline didn’t answer. This was all happening much too fast, and she didn’t feel remotely ready.
Near midday, Céline found herself in the courtyard of the castle, standing just outside a bustling collection of soldiers and horses as Jaromir called out orders in preparation for departure. He was dressed in chain armor and a tan tabard of Castle Sèone, with a sheathed long sword on his left hip.
Amelie was overseeing their travel bags being packed into a wagon, but Céline didn’t seem able to speak or move. A part her still couldn’t believe that only last evening, she’d walked up to the castle looking forward to attending a banquet.
Now she felt lost and out of control, as if she was being swept along on a current instead of guiding her own path.
“All right,” Jaromir called. “Get the provisions tied down and covered.”
Céline glanced over the men he’d chosen. Though not surprised, she was slightly unsettled to see Corporal Pavel at Jaromir’s side. Pavel was tall with a lanky build and dark close-cropped hair. He was considered quite good in a fight, and so Jaromir often brought him on journeys. But Céline was cautious around Pavel. He had a well-hidden temper, and although he’d never actually hurt Céline, he had come close once, and she avoided him when possible.
She was surprised, however, to see Guardsman Rurik in the mix. He was a smaller man with a wiry build and curly light brown hair he wore to the top of his shoulders. He was known as the swiftest rider of anyone under Jaromir’s command, and so he’d been offered the position of messenger between Anton and his father.
It seemed unlikely that Anton would wish to part with him for any length of time.
Still, Jaromir appeared to have great trust in Rurik, and when Céline and Amelie had first arrived in the courtyard that morning, Jaromir had explained his preparations a bit more carefully. He’d chosen fifteen men—whom he knew well—from the Sèone ranks as escort, and he’d had a wagon loaded with provisions. Once they neared Ryazan, he would keep Corporal Pavel with him and send the rest back to Sèone, as Anton did not want him riding into the encampment with a contingent. Jaromir would later send Pavel to arrange for an escort to come and see them safely home again, once the . . . difficulty had been solved. Anton and Jaromir had considered having the contingent camp somewhere in the woods and wait. But there was no telling how long it would take Amelie and Céline to solve the situation—possibly weeks—and so in the end, they’d decided it was a better option to have the men simply return to Sèone and go back when necessary.
However, the gist of all this suggested the trip would not be brief. That much was clear. So Céline had asked Erin, the blacksmith’s daughter, to come check on Oliver at the shop each day, to bring him milk and make certain he had fresh water. Céline had left a back shutter open, so he could get in and out easily, and he was perfectly capable of hunting for himself, but she wanted him to know that he’d not been abandoned, that the shop was still his home.
And now she was simply waiting to ride out on a journey she could not refuse.
“I chose your horse myself,” said a soft voice behind her.
Turning, she found Anton standing there, taking in the sight of her red cloak.
“Would you like to meet her?” he asked.
His face was unreadable, but his voice was strained and his eyes shone with misery. Suddenly, all her numbness faded away. He didn’t want to send her on this task. He looked as lost as she by all the activity taking place in this courtyard.
Trying to smile, she answered, “Yes, please introduce us.”
She followed him over to a dappled gray mare with a cloth bridle and a blanket over her sidesaddle.
“Her name is Sable,” Anton said. “She’s gentle but swift.”
Céline didn’t know how to ride, so she simply nodded, petting Sable’s soft nose. “Thank you.”
The misery in his eyes increased, and he leaned closer. “Céline, I didn’t want to ask this of you . . . any of this. But I cannot fail my father, and I cannot see any other way. You and Amelie have a chance of finding out what is happening at those mines, and then Jaromir can stop it. There is no one else.” He paused. “You understand? This isn’t about me. It’s about the future of Droevinka.”
His normally haughty voice sounded so pained, she wasn’t certain how to respond. She did understand, and she could not fathom even the prospect of Damek as grand prince, with the power of life and death over the nation.
“Mount up!” Jaromir called.
Céline glanced over at Amelie, who was scrambling up into the sidesaddle of a small black gelding. Amelie didn’t know how to ride either, and sitting with her legs on the same side of the horse would hardly make it easier. The very concept of a sidesaddle struck Céline as ridiculous, but she and Amelie were supposed to be ladies of court.
Anton took hold of Sable’s bridle and helped guide Céline’s foot into the stirrup. Thankfully, Céline managed to lift herself and settle into her own saddle with a modicum of grace.
Then she looked down. Before leaving, she needed to tell Anton something. She felt different from only moments ago. His coming out here to see her off, to express his regret and reluctance, had made her understand the importance of what he was asking.
“We won’t fail,” she said. “I swear that your father will not be disappointed, that he will see you as a leader who can step up to any task, any problem, and find a way to solve it.”
He stared up. “Céline—”
“I swear,” she repeated.
Then she managed to steer the mare around and follow Amelie and Jaromir toward the castle gates, with a contingent of fifteen soldiers and a wagon coming behind her.
Chapter Three
Two days later, Amelie’s backside had never been so sore. Perhaps riding on a horse saved wear on one’s feet, but she didn’t find the trade-off worthwhile. Every step sent a new jarring pain up her spine. As the contingent traveled up a heavily forested dirt road, she seriously considered asking Jaromir if she and Céline might tie their mounts to the back of the wagon and ride on top of the provisions for a while.