Minerva gathered her robe and towel, holding her breath. Beau was motionless as he watched them back away down the hall, Rone still aiming the crossbow. Once they were around the corner she shoved him into motion.
“We need to leave now!” she violently whispered. “How long will it take for you to find Bryant?”
“Not long.” He pulled a small piece of plastic from the bundle of clothes in his arms. Minerva hadn’t seen plastic since she visited Yallifa as a little girl, where they also had motor vehicles and automatic weapons. “I let him know just now. Are your living quarters close so you can get some clothes?”
“I have some in the changing room.” She led them deeper into the mountain, where Rone jumped in the next changing room. Her fingers were shaking. She had never been under this kind of pressure before. Now she would probably be tortured before she was sent to the prisons.
Hearing Rone pacing around outside of her room, she gave up on the last few buttons on the back neck of her dress. Slipping into her flimsy cloth flats and hiding her blade in the secret waistline pocket, she hurried out. Rone was staring at the shining piece of plastic.
“He’s notified the crew. They should be ready when we get there,” he started down the wet hall.
“Wait, this is a quicker way.” Minerva stopped at a narrow door half hidden in the shadows. She creaked it open and slipped in. “This will take us right outside,” she said, hurrying down an enormous steep flight of stairs. At the bottom she had to heave open a solid wood door. It was going to be a cloudy, soppy late winter day. The wind felt warm as it blasted past them.
About a quarter mile down the mountain, people were scurrying around the docks, prepping for another day. Her and Rone were halfway down the muddy trail when the alarm bells began ringing up in the fortress.
She was practically sliding down the muddy trail. Once they were in the little village, Rone led the way to a small but regal ship made of dark wood. The dark green and light blue sails were tied and most of the crew was standing ready. Minerva could see Bryant’s tall frame. He stood just slightly shorter than Rone with the same warrior haircut. His expression was anything but happy when they boarded.
“What’s going on?” His booming voice was now deadly quiet as he lowered his head in secrecy towards Rone.
“We’ll discuss it below deck.” Rone cast his eyes up at the mountain fortress one more time before going below. Minerva’s home looked dreary and ominous, perched at the top of the mountain under a ceiling of broodingly dark cerulean clouds, however there was a sense of renewal that was starting to sprout in her. Something that was long overdue, like the first warm spring wind that was carrying them out of the harbor.
The ship smelled of fine spices and leather. Rone and Bryant were not just representatives of the Brier Kingdom, they were also some of the king’s advisors, so they obviously traveled comfortably.
“How long will it take to get to Brier?” she asked as they sat at a round dining table. The room had no windows but was lit by a swaying candle chandelier. It was interesting they had plastic but no electricity on one of their finest ships. Rone asked the cook for three meals then turned to her.
“We should be there late tonight if we have wind like this the whole way.”
“What happened this morning?” Bryant impatiently redirected. Rone explained everything quickly and concisely. Bryant glanced at Minerva for the first time, it felt like. At the meeting it had seemed like Bryant was the more hospitable of the two, but now behind closed doors he was most definitely more intimidating than she anticipated. Whereas Rone almost always had an ironic glimmer of humor behind his rough exterior, Bryant was only colder.
“Hmm… Well, I guess that doesn’t change much,” he finally spoke. “You were right in coming with us.” He gave Minerva a curt nod.
“Archen will be glad for another mind as hers.” Rone spoke to Bryant but was looking at her.
“Now that I’m not so sure of.”
“Why?” Rone’s eyebrows hardened in surprise. Bryant shrugged his boulder-like shoulders.
“If she’s willing to put a knife to her own king’s throat, what will she be willing to do to someone else’s king? Fine that we help her escape, but I hardly imagine King Archen will want her on his team.”
The discussion like she wasn’t there was getting on her nerves.
“I only do what is necessary. That was self defence. If your King Archen is a pig, then he will get the same thing. If not, there will be no problem.” Her clear voice cut through the air, not convincing the soldier. The angrily mortified look on his face showed her that no one ever spoke of their king that way. His eyes shot to Rone in warning.
“I’ll have a word with you.”
Rone looked annoyed but stood and followed Bryant out of the room. All she could hear were rumbles of their voices. As much as she wanted to hear what they were saying, she was absolutely not going to risk getting caught listening by the door.
“I know the real reason you brought her.” Bryant’s thundering voice escaped through the door, but Rone’s was still quiet. He had told the truth about what happened. Was Bryant thinking he was lying, or was he talking about something else she didn’t know of?
The food was brought out. The roast dish with vegetables and bread that smelled heavenly.
“If it’s alright, I will have this in the guest cabin… or wherever I’m staying.”
“Of course, ma’am.” The scrawny, precisely dressed cook took her plate, silverware, and water on a tray and led the way through a very tight corridor to the cabin at the end.
“Thank you.”
“I will be back to collect the dishes in a few hours.”
“Thank you again.” Minerva nodded. She dove in right as the door closed. After she scarfed her food, she stretched out on the bed, not anticipating that she would fall fast asleep.
It must’ve been the whole day she was asleep, since it was dark the next time she opened her eyes. Her tray of food was gone. She shivered in the chilly air and wrapped her light top blanket around her shoulders.
Creaking open her door, she could hear lively chatter coming from somewhere. Minerva decided she wanted some fresh air, so she maneuvered her way up to the deck, letting the icy air cut into her clothes. It was a shockingly bright night with a full moon shining from behind her across the water. The wind had only calmed slightly.
Minerva left her mother back home. She would send a letter telling her that she was okay, but would not be returning to Ghrathar. She tried pushing the sadness away as she stared at the large black strip of land they were sailing towards. This would be a new beginning for her. If the king didn’t want her on his counsel, she had no idea what she would do. The thought of sneaking back into Ghrathar crossed her mind for a moment. She would have to live in hiding. Her life in Brier would hardly be better. She didn’t know anyone, and she would clearly not fit into their warrior society. Behind her, a door opened and closed. It was too cold for her to stay out any longer, and she didn’t feel like making small talk with anyone.
It was Rone. He sort of stumbled over to the side of the ship and threw up. Minerva raised her eyebrows in disgust, trying not to listen to such a sound. It was certainly time to go back to her cabin.
“My apologies, Minerva.”
She stopped at the stairs leading down into the warmth. “Not to worry, I was on my way inside.”
“No, no. I’m done disturbing your peace.” He waved his hand, clearly a little tipsy. “This has been my first ‘vacation’ in four years.”
“Oh? Well, I’ll let you get back to it.”
“I’m also sorry about Bryant… He’s always a bit skeptical, but I know the king will give you a position. And it won’t be out of pity either.” He waved her over. She shivered in the cold but went over anyway.
“Here.” He shook off his jacket and wrapped it around her blanketed shoulders. He wore a plain muslin shirt that waved loosely in the wind. “I’d like to spend some time with you… I mean, if you don’t mind.”
Minerva smiled at his drunkenness. “I’m sorry I’m not in more of a partying mood.”
“Ahh, well, if you’d like, I’ll fetch you something to drink?”
“Oh, tonight won’t be the night for that, I don’t think.” She somberly shook her head and gazed out at the water. Alcohol sounded nice, but she needed to be on her toes for the next while. It might be more dangerous in Brier than Ghrathar for her.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, hanging his head forward to look at her better. His clever smile peered out of his stupor, revealing how clear headed he knew he still was.
“Nothing cheerful.” She pulled the warm jacket tighter around her.
“Well, there’s nothing to worry about. Have you ever met King Archen?”
She shook her head.
“He’s a much better king than Beau.” Rone squinted out at the approaching land. “Are you leaving any family behind?”
“My mother,” she solemnly replied.
“I’ll send someone for her.” He ardently declared.
“Oh, no! I can’t have you do that… I have to make sure I will be okay first.”
“Phh, of course you will.”
“Bryant didn’t seem too sure.” Minerva shook her head.
“He’s always like that. I think King Archen did that on purpose. We have very different skills that work well for our kind of business.”
There was silence between them for a few minutes. Minerva’s face was so cold, she couldn’t even feel it. She took it as long as she could bear, enjoying being near him.
“I’m afraid I’m much too cold to stay,” she finally gave up, giving him his jacket back. Only now did he show that he was a little chilly.
“I am about there as well. Best to sleep for the rest of the way. I assume you will have a busy day when we land.”
Minerva didn’t have to be told twice. Once she was back in her cabin, she climbed under the heavier covers and fell fast asleep.
It felt like only minutes later when there was a knock on her door to wake her. The ship was just as lively as it sounded last night as she smoothed her hair and dress, buttoning the last few at the back of her neck.
Unboarding under a sinking moon and rising sun, Minerva followed Rone and Bryant off the ship and into a bustling city, where somehow it looked like everyone was dressed ready for battle. It was Lancing, their capital. She was a little surprised to find a few vehicles driving around. Again, it was a luxury only Yallifa had, where they had the engineers and the resources to have them. Minerva was just now beginning to realize just how behind the times Ghrathar really was. Everyone else was spreading all of the lost technology, but not even the black market was drawing any of it back to her home country.
She followed the men to the large stable across the street, where they each got a horse. It was only a fifteen minute ride up to the heavily guarded castle. It was built on a wide hill that had patches of half melted snow heaped under each of the trees lining the wide road. The pink and orange sky gave everything a golden glow as they were approaching the royal stable.
“The king knows we’re coming,” Rone explained. “I would imagine he’s ready to hear how it went.” He was considerably more serious than last night, with traces of dark circles under his eyes.
“Do I have time to change into something more suitable?” she asked. Her dress was fine, but it was nothing special, and her light indoor shoes were covered in mud.
“No,” Bryant shot. “We’re running late. King Archen doesn’t like surprises either. You should
know that before you follow us in today.”
“You’ll be fine.” Rone rolled his eyes and continued leading them through the back entrance of the castle. It was much more beautiful than the fortress she’d lived in. It felt more like a splendid home than a barricade.
They came to a small room with double doors.
“If you could wait here, Minerva, I’ll come and get you when we’re ready.” Rone patted the armrest of a lavish, cushioned chair for her to sit. There was nothing for her to do but wait as they filed in without her.
Everything was quiet.
It felt like a warm house with no one home. Her nerves were starting to get the better of her as she bounced her knee in anticipation. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. She’d just spent years sleeping with one eye open back home. This place was far less hostile, yet she felt as if something was about to catch her off guard.
Hearing footsteps on the other side of the door, her heart crawled up into the back of her throat. It was a boy of about ten, wearing clothes of royalty.
“You are Minerva of Ghrathar?” he asked.
“Yes.” She stood.
“Please follow me.”