CHAPTER 22:SHADOWS IN SADDLE

The morning was cool, but the sun threatened to burn through the clouds before noon. Draeven's gates opened slowly, groaning as if they too disliked letting royal blood ride out into unknown lands.

We were a small party. Just six guards, three Draeven nobles, myself, Kael, and Prince Valen — with Ambassador Alric riding near the front, speaking little.

My leg still ached from the twisted ankle, but I bit it down. I wouldn't ask for help. Not again. Not even from Valen.

Especially not from Valen.

Kael rode beside me, unusually quiet. She glanced my way and finally said, "That ambassador… he seems like someone who could read minds."

I didn't respond. Because she wasn't wrong.

---

"Form tight lines," Valen called from the front. "The road through the silverwood stretch is still known for bandits."

His voice was clear, commanding. His armor was simple but regal — a red mantle draped across one shoulder, sword tied high at his back.

He glanced over his shoulder once. At me.

And then didn't look back again.

---

The hours passed in silence, broken only by hooves and Kael's occasional humming. I tried to focus on the trees. The road. Anything but the weight in my chest.

He knows I'm not alright.

---

Sometime past midday, we stopped for rest in a clearing flanked by trees. Alric dismounted with a quiet grace, retrieving a map from his saddlebag.

I sat on a fallen log, stretching my ankle. Valen walked over and stood in front of me without a word.

I looked up. "You're glaring again."

"I'm not," he said. Then, after a pause: "I'm watching you limp and wondering why you're too stubborn to say anything."

I said nothing.

He crouched slightly, voice low. "You shouldn't be here. Not if you're hurt."

"You don't get to say that," I replied quietly. "I chose this."

He stood, jaw tight, and walked away.

---

Later, Alric sat across from me as the group took a meal.

"Tell me, Sera," he said without lifting his gaze from the fire, "how long do you plan to keep pretending this is just about survival?"

I looked at him sharply.

"I saw your eyes when I mentioned your mother," he said. "That wasn't survival. That was grief. And grief," he said with a soft chuckle, "always walks hand in hand with vengeance."

---

Before I could respond, a scout rode back into the clearing, breathless.

"A group of riders on the ridge! Too many to be coincidence. They're coming fast."

Instantly, the air changed.

Valen was on his feet. "Weapons ready. Formation two."

"Protect the ambassador," a knight barked.

Swords unsheathed. Hooves thundered in the distance. The diplomatic mission just became a battlefield.

Kael drew her daggers, lips tight.

Valen turned to me — eyes sharp. "You stay close to me."

I nodded, already reaching for my sword.

This wasn't survival anymore.

This was the beginning of something else.