Four days later, they were still pressing hard south, sometimes gallopping the horses through the more exposed sections of road. They’d gone without stopping for a day and a night, and then after that took to traveling mostly at dusk and dawn, when the long shadows distorted their shapes. What rest they took was shallow and kept them too exhausted to speak beyond necessities. Finally, on the third night they felt secure enough to rest the whole night, taking turns on watch as the horses slept. The day dawned grey and cold. The sky was the dull color of old dishwater. The pair set out without a word.

Hours at a steady pace are hard on even the most practiced rider. When a stream wandered close to the road around midday, the two took advantage of it to rest and water their horses. Aeric watched Lara as she busied herself looking through the packs for breakfast. In the dull, gray light, her hair seemed to glow with its own warm light. He frowned.

“Shouldn’t you cover your hair?”

Her wide eyes rose to meet his face before darting toward the road behind them.

“Here.” She tossed a loaf of bread to him, and took one herself. Bread firmly held between her jaws, she swiftly plaited her hair. Then she took the cloth that had held the bread and tied it as a kerchief on her head.

Aeric stared at her with a slight smile on his lips as he ate his father’s sweet, black bread.

“Better?” she asked, taking loaf in hand again.

“Um hm,” he answered, mouth full.

Again she glanced at the road, and drew her cloak tighter around her neck. The cloak effectively hid the tail of her braid, but her hands played nervously with the fabric, checking and rechecking that everything was in place.

“You needn’t worry about the villagers. They’ll not follow us this far.”

“I wasn’t worried about them.”

She chewed and swallowed small bits of the bread between hurried sips of water, her eyes drawn again and again to the northern horizon.

“You’re scaring the horses,” he observed mildly.

She stared at him with a face like lightning.

“Forgive me.”

Aeric said nothing. He looked down at the ground for a moment, then:

“So where are we going anyway?”

“South.”

“South where?”

After a moment, a graceful shrug.

“Well that’s illuminating.”

Lara rolled her eyes.

He explained, “South on this road is Erenelle. It’s the capital of the northern counties. From there you can reach any city in the southlands. At least five roads leaving Erenelle can take you south. Which were you considering?”

“I know next to nothing of the south,” Lara admitted finally. She turned again to the north. “Which would you suggest?”

It was Aeric’s turn to shrug. “I suppose that depends upon your goal.”

She turned back to face him squarely. “I have but one goal, Aeric.”

He nodded. “To get away.”

There was no answer to that. Slowly silence returned to the roadside. Even the horses stood quietly. A breath of wind touched the grass and went on, leaving the damp air thick and still. Lara had returned to her watch.

After an indeterminate amount of time, she spoke, her words quickly silenced in the close air.

“Does one of those roads lead to Aery?”

“Which roads?” he asked, watching her back as she waited for his answer.

“The roads from Erenelle.”

Aeric shrugged again, and realized she couldn’t see it. “I don’t know.”

Lara turned around, head cocked curiously.

“I don’t,” he protested. “Aery’s nothing but a myth now. No one’s seen it since before the War.”

The girl smiled, and even the harsh light of day couldn’t mar that smile’s beauty. “Then it’s safe yet.”

She climbed onto Flight’s back and waited for Aeric to mount as well. They began south once more.

“They laid a glamour on it.”

“What?” asked Aeric, catching up to her.

“A glamour. An illusion.”

He nodded understanding.

“We weren’t sure if they had, because they had no way of knowing they would lose the War. Dahles may have been our political capital, but Aery was our heart. In the temple to Talasia there, it was said the goddess herself occasionally appeared. It’s from Talasia that all magic comes. The elves are said to be her children by the unnamed god. That makes us, the Fey, her grandchildren in a way.”

“That’s what our histories say, as well, but they make no mention of Aery’s location.”

“Your histories?” she asked, a glimmer of light in her eyes.

“Yes,” Aeric answered. “I studied history, among other things, in Erenelle.

Lara frowned. “I fear I could reach the sea itself and the riders would still come.”

Aeric looked at Lara, his mouth slightly open and his eyebrows raised.

“I’m saying,” she clarified, “that perhaps knowledge is of more use to me than distance.”

“You want to find out who the riders are?”

“And what they want.” She nodded.

“I never learned anything about men in the north,” Aeric said slowly, but before Lara’s face could fall too much, he went on, “But I was not a student of history or geography, really. I’m sure there’s a lot I don’t know.”

“Then on to Erenelle,” she smiled, “where we might get some answers.”

Aeric sped his horse’s pace to match hers, and soon the countryside was flying by.

Hours later, Lara pulled up and slowed enough to speak.

“Is that Erenelle?” she queried, nodding toward a gray smudge to the south.

“Yes,” Aeric affirmed.

As they drew closer, the city came clearer, until every detail was bared to the light.

Aeric watched smoke wreathe from the various chimneys and almost believed he could smell a good inn dinner cooking. The city’s hum seemed just beyond hearing, the exciting murmur of hundreds of people exchanging news and haggling. One sound did reach him: the resonant music of bells ringing the hour.

Lara’s eyes saw a different reality. Haphazard shacks staggered their way toward the outskirts of the city proper where they were replaced by increasingly imposing stone edifices. In the center of that warren of streets stood a hunched, nearly windowless monstrosity of black stone.

“The fine buildings start at the old wall,” Aeric informed his companion proudly. “Back when the northern counties were independent, the wall protected the city from its neighbors. Now it crumbles: a curiosity piece. There’s been peace in the north for a century now, and the counts and lords have made way for a parliament. It and the university share Erenelle’s pride: the Castle Eren.”

Lara turned on Aeric. “You’re proud of that...that ‘castle’?” she nearly shouted. “It’s ugly!”

“It’s a good, strong castle,” he countered. “It was built for defense, not looks.”

“You say that as if it should mean something! Your houses are nothing but shelters to keep out the rain. Your towns and cities nothing but convenient gathering places. Everything is just what’s necessary to be usable! Everything is practical! Except for women’s clothes…” she yanked at her skirt, “and those seem to be designed after some romantic ideal. No wonder human poetry is all about imaginary women!”

Aeric had been patient through her tirade, but now he rolled his eyes and let out a puff of breath.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he ground out.

“You build things toward their use. Don’t you realize that you use things after their form?”

“What?”

“If you surround yourself with dark and ugliness, you will grow dim and ugly souled. No wonder humans are so dull-witted!”

Aeric reigned up sharply in front of Lara, his visage dark.

“That was uncalled for.”

Lara caught her breath. She glanced down and up again.

“You’re right. Not all humans are close-minded. Your father is not. Nor was Maerys. Nor are you.”

Her gaze softened as he relaxed. “I must say, though, that the most beautiful structure I’ve seen yet is your house. The rest are rude at best.”

Aeric looked back at Castle Eren, trying to see what the girl saw.

“My father is from the south,” he said. “They’re more frivolous there.”

Lara shook her head tiredly and nudged Flight forward. They rode in silence the rest of the way to the city.

There were no guards to pass upon entering Erenelle. In fact, it was difficult to say precisely where the city began. Did it start with the first roadside inn, or a mile down, where straw began to hide the mud of the road surface? Then there was the wall. It seemed that no poor tinker lived inside it and no wealthy merchant outside.

“That wall still stands,” Lara murmurred as they passed it.

“A few blocks up is Market Square,” Aeric spoke over the ring of horseshoes on cobblestones. “We’ll want to dismount and keep a close eye on our belongings there.”

The press of people grew closer. Lara stared straight ahead at her horse’s head, shaking slightly.

When Aeric glanced over, he leaned toward her, concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“There are so many . . . people,” Lara replied breathlessly.

“It’s going to get worse in a second.” He laid a hand on her trembling arm. “Market policy is to lead the horses. We have to dismount.”

She blanched.

“Is it too much?”

She tilted her jaw higher and turned to look at him.

“I should think not.”

Aeric grinned. “Let’s go, then.”

But before their feet touched the ground, they heard a shout.

“Aeric! Aeric ni’Mara!”

Looking over the heads of the throng, Aeric felt his grin widen.

“Cićn!”

In moments a slight, blond youth stood before them. The two men embraced, and then Cićn noticed Lara.

“Who is this?” he asked Aeric with a smirk, one brow raised.

Aeric shook his head and sighed.

“Alas no. She’s my cousin.”

“Well then,” Cićn smiled as he turned to her.

“And she’s not available.”

Cićn frowned.

“Cićn this is Lara...Lara--”

“Talan,” she cut him off. “Lara Talan.”

Some expression glimmered in Cićn’s eyes and was gone.

“Lara,” Aeric cut in, “this is Cićn o’ Erenelle. His family’s been here longer than the castle.”

“A pleasure,” Cićn purred, raising her hand to his lips. He kissed it gently and raised his head, his eyes lingering for a moment on her hand before he met her eyes again, smiling widely.

“Will you be staying in our beautiful city long? I would love to give you a tour of its . . . attractions.”

Something in his voice kept Lara from grinning back. Her face was pleasantly blank as she reclaimed her hand and answered him.

“A day or two, I think.” She looked to Aeric.

“Just long enough to say hello and take care of a bit of business,” he added, “Then we’re off again.”

“I don’t remember you mentioning this business before,” Cićn questioned.

“I didn’t know about it myself until I got home. You know how seldom news comes from the villages.”

Cićn kept smiling. “Are things well at home?”

Aeric blinked. “As well as ever.”

Cićn stared at Aeric for a split second longer. Then he looked to Lara and back.

“Well then, let’s go before the hall finishes serving supper.”

He took the reins of Lara’s horse and offered her his arm. She shot a glance toward Aeric, who winced, and then she began timidly to raise her own arm.

“Country women,” Cićn sighed. “North, south, east, or west, they none of them know what it’s like to be treated like a lady."

He placed her arm in his.

“And if we were feeling at all . . . friendly . . . you might place your other hand upon my arm as well.” He ignored Aeric’s glare.

Cićn waltzed off through the crowded square with Lara, leaving Aeric struggling to keep up with the horses.

“My ancestors founded county Eren and built the castle to protect their people from the savages still scattered across the countryside."

Lara’s brow raised.

“The faerie creatures and the fey,” he clarified. “Civilization hadn’t yet gained dominance here. The land was still wild and chaotic."

“Why come here at all, then?”

Cićn laughed. “Creatures like that are less than human. They use witchery to do things instead of honest work. How could they know the value of the land they walked upon? None of their sweat or blood had watered the soil.”

“I see,” Lara answered with only the faint interest in her voice of any foreigner.

Glad Cićn could not see his face, Aeric suffered for her. He paled and flushed and paled again, expecting any moment that Lara would grow angry and reveal herself.

“Of course, it wasn’t only the faerie folk castle Eren had to protect against,” he interjected, hoping to divert the course of the conversation.

Cićn glanced back at him briefly. “That’s true,” he acknowledged. “My ancestors weren’t the only ones to see the opportunity these northern plains offered. In those days, the borders between counties shifted often, and many counties fell entirely to their neighbors."

“How did county Eren fare then?” Lara asked, looking into Cićn’s eyes for a second.

He smiled and gripped her arm more tightly.

“We had our share of trouble,” he grinned, “but even at the worst, castle Eren stood firm against both threats and never fell. Not once. That is how Erenelle came to be the seat of power for the entire northern province.”

“They say luck flows through the veins of Cićn’s family instead of blood,” Aeric interjected.

“Nothing of luck in it,” Cićn scoffed. “We just understood the north better than most. We still do.”

He made no response to Aeric’s chuckle, instead releasing Lara’s hand and standing in front of her.

“And now I bid you welcome,” he said, bowing deeply, “to my ancestral home.”

The arched entryway went on for yards under the battlements. The light from the courtyard was faint in the distance.

“It is certainly . . . imposing,” Lara spoke uncertainly.

Cićn patted her arm as he took it again.

“Don’t worry,” he said lightly. “No one of honest intent need ever fear Eren."

Lara’s smile warmed her eyes and coaxed an answering grin from Cićn, but Aeric could see the tension in her shoulders. Nearly as unsettled himself by the implied threat, he entered the place that had been his second home feeling like an interloper for the first time.