A sharp breeze rattled the River Rat's rigging. The waning moon cut the sky like a knife, offering little light through roiling clouds. Rika leaned against the cabin wall, counting each hour like a wound. Two days on this boat, and the relentless slap of water against the hull had become the rhythm of her fear.
Merric crouched at the rail, one hand never far from his knife. His gaze swept the shoreline where reeds whispered secrets.
"Why you?" Rika finally asked. "Why would the Queen trust a huntsman to escort me?"
Merric didn't turn. "I tracked Blair for eight seasons before he learned to hide his trail." His leather jerkin creaked as he shifted. "I'd know him blindfolded in a crowd of thousands."
"And me? Am I dangerous? Because of what I can do?"
Now he turned, torchlight catching in his beard. "The Queen believes you may prove valuable." His eyes narrowed. "That's enough for me."
"But not enough for you to sleep," Rika observed.
A shadow moved behind them. Merric's knife appeared in his hand before Rika could blink. The sailor froze, then retreated without a word.
"How far to Blair?" she asked when her heart slowed.
"Riop, then Tiereny if we're lucky." Merric sheathed his blade. "Rest. I'll keep watch."
Rika lay beneath the stars, cold seeping through her cloak. The memory of her last vision clung to her, flames dancing inside her lungs, blood writing omens into her bones. She couldn't forget. She didn't want to.
Her chest tightened.
The rift opened.
Not peace, never peace. Her vision smeared. Her mouth filled with metal and heat. She choked as her spirit tore loose from flesh.
Above the deck, wind keened against the rigging. Her spirit hovered, trembling. Burke slouched at the tiller, flask limp in his grip. She drifted toward him, rage pulling her like gravity.
The scent of brandy reached her, a reminder of every night he'd watched her, every comment about her breeches.
"DRUNK." The word left her not as sound but as force.
Burke's head snapped up. The tiller spun. The mainsail buckled with a crack, and the ship veered toward land.
The tree loomed, massive and ancient.
Wood shattered. The impact slammed Rika's body from the wool. Pain rang through both forms, flesh and spirit.
Then hands, rough, urgent. A grip on her shoulder. Merric.
She collapsed into herself like the wake of thunder.
Her breath came in pieces.
Merric knelt beside her, his face pale with concern. But she couldn’t speak yet. Not with fire still boiling beneath her tongue and the echo of Burke’s shame lodged behind her ribs.
"The sailor," she managed.
"I know."
On deck, Burke lay against the broken tiller, blood trickling from his temple. Captain Mossman appeared, his face a thundercloud.
"She did it!" Burke slurred, pointing. "She screamed in my head!"
Mossman hauled Burke to his feet, then hurled the flask into the river. "Off my ship, you drunken fool!"
Burke followed his flask overboard with a splash. Mossman turned to Rika and Merric, his decision final. "Find another way to Riop."
Dawn found them trudging along the muddy riverbank, Burke stumbling ahead, clothes still dripping. Each step pulled at Rika's boots like hands trying to drag her under.
When Burke slowed, glancing back with bloodshot eyes, Merric's knife appeared. Rika touched his arm. The blade lowered, but Merric seized Burke's collar.
"Ten paces behind us," he growled. "No talking."
They walked until dusk, when even Merric's determination faltered. They made camp beneath a stand of birches. Burke huddled at the edge of firelight, shivering.
When he crept closer to the warmth, Merric's blade flashed. A thin red line appeared on Burke's wrist. The sailor retreated, muttering curses.
They reached a ferry dock as the sun dipped low, a ramshackle shack beside a weathered pier. The ferryman squinted at them.
"Spray leaves at sunrise," he grunted. "Deck passage only."
Merric tossed silver onto the counter. Rika added gold. "A room," she said, her voice leaving no room for argument.
Upstairs, Merric checked every corner, then barred the door. "Rest," he said. "I'll wake you when it's time."
Hoofbeats shattered the silence. Merric was at the window instantly, knife in hand. Two riders approached, torches blazing. The lead rider pulled back his hood.
"Merric..." The name left his lips like an echo of memory.
Rika's heart pounded as she and Merric descended toward the firelit clearing. There, beside the horses, Prince Blair waited, his eyes unreadable in the shifting light.
Before thought could intervene, Rika dropped to one knee. Training overruled emotion.
Blair's hand on her shoulder felt impossibly light. "Stand," he murmured. "I travel in shadow."
Inside, Blair's gaze settled on her, cool and perceptive, as if reading a text written in her bones.
Rika straightened her spine. "I am Rika Gresso. Your mother's newest maid." Her breath hitched. "I discovered I can leave my body. Move unseen. At first, I thought it a curse."
Blair's expression didn't change, but his eyes did, light catching curiosity.
"And now?"
"Now I see it has purpose."
A breath of silence. Then Blair smiled, brief but real. It softened his features, peeled away layers of crown and burden.
"My mother chose well in Merric," he said, "though she owes him an apology. A huntsman shouldn't carry a knight's burden."
They shared a meal, but Blair's face darkened as he spoke.
"War looms," he said quietly. "A death at the Making ceremony was only the spark. The Mistress of Fire has been found. We follow the Regin of Fire prophecy" His fingers tightened around his cup. "I didn't seek this path. It's been placed beneath my feet."
He turned to Rika. "Show me."
Rika shut her eyes. Her breath slowed. The world fell away.
Amber light flared around her, molten. Her spirit unmoored.
When she returned, gasping, Merric was already there, water ready, patience steady.
"Burke was listening outside," she whispered.
Blair nodded to Kumar, who vanished with silent efficiency and returned just as quietly, Burke secured.
Then something fractured.
Blair ran a hand through his dark curls, his posture sinking. His features turned younger. Less prince, more boy.
"As heir, I was taught how to govern," he said. "Not how to survive this." His voice trembled. "I trained for order. Not for fire."
Rika watched the shift in him, fear wrapped in resolve. Still, he reached toward her, not in touch, but in purpose.
"Come with me," Blair said. "Your gift may turn what's hopeless into what's possible."
Rika bowed her head. Words dissolved in her throat as fear and conviction braided inside her chest.
She didn't know what path lay ahead. But in that moment, she knew she would follow it.
Blair turned to Merric. "You must ride to the capital. Cancel the bounty on Rika's head and warn my father."
Merric nodded, determination hardening his features. "I will. And I'll see her safely returned when this is done."
Blair rested his hand on his sword hilt. "We ride for the Aster Hills, to seek Aurin Sweetwater. The knowledge of giants and Fairy may be our only hope now."
The fire had dimmed to embers. Blair's profile, once crisp against the dusk, now blurred into shadow. But Rika still saw the echo of his words, etched in the space between them.
He hadn't commanded. That was what lingered.
Not "You will" or "You must."
Come with me.
She sat apart from the others, knees drawn close, cloak pulled tighter as the night deepened. The stars blinked above like watchful eyes.
For so long, her life had been a thread woven beneath others' hands. A maid. A spy. A ghost in corridors. She'd learned to be invisible by necessity, not choice. Now her gift, the curse she once feared, had been named useful.
Worse, important.
The weight of that terrified her.
And yet... Blair's voice had held vulnerability, not demand. The way he'd looked at her, not through her, but into her. As if she weren't just a tool, but someone who might matter.
She pressed her palms together and leaned her forehead against them, steadying her breath.
She hadn't answered him, not really. A bowed head could mean many things.
But in her chest, beneath the trembling, something fierce had begun to form. Purpose not assigned but chosen.
She would follow him. Not because he was the prince. Not because the Mistress of Fire protected the realm.
But because when he asked, he left room for her to refuse.
And that, that was worth answering.