Chapter 10:

The Heroine

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“Catch her!”

Briallen turned around a little too slow when Amelia Brown started to fall. It was Ector and Ewen that kept her from hitting the ground.

“Is she hurt?” She glared at Ector, who was still dishevelled and disarmed. Ewen put the Weaver down on the ground slowly, taking care of her head.

“I don’t know,” the boy said. “She was fine, there is no blood. I don’t—”

“She is exhausted, used up her magic,” Ector said coolly, taking one of Amelia’s wrists and showing her blackened hands. “She’ll wake up soon.”

“What’s this? Blood?” Master Ivor said kneeling down and taking the woman’s hand.

“Ink,” Briallen said, examining the hand and recognising the distinct smell. “Did she do some ritual or enchantment then? Has she remembered?”

“She hasn’t and even if she did, she is not strong enough to change anything big, if getting us out of there put such a strain on her body.”

“Well, then we should wait until she wakes up.” Briallen sat down and crossed her legs and arms. “She saved us from the mess you put us on, she should choose the next door.”

The man glared at her, then shook his head and said nothing, getting up and walking away to a corner of the hall as he always did. Briallen wanted to keep screaming at him for putting them in danger over that flower but figured out that he was already doing it in his own head.

She was desperately hungry, they all were, the last time they had eaten had been those first days in Amelia’s world, some dry meat and the leftovers of a hunt. Three days from that now. They had to find food and water before the latter made itself sparse too, and after that… Well, it would be another world that might or might not be theirs. Now that they weren’t searching for the Weaver, their crossing was supposed to be short, but the matter of survival was as pressing as returning home.

“If the next world is not too dangerous, we should stay a few days to see if we are truly home,” she said out loud and both the boy and the old sorcerer turned to her. “Think about it, what if we get home and leave thinking it’s another world because we don’t recognise it?”

“The magic would feel different, Your Highness,” said Ivor.

“What if it doesn’t?” she countered. “It felt too similar when we were in this world, and I had no problem using it in that sea world. I don’t think we can use the magic as proof, sir. It might get us going in circles.”

“What do you suggest then?” Ector said mockingly from his corner. “Staying a year in every world until we see if it is ours? You do realise this is not some adventure to travel with some of your little friends, don’t you, princess?”

“I certainly realise it more than you do,” Briallen spat. “I am not the one that put our only hope of stopping the disaster happening at home in danger. And I never have travelled guided only by the thrill of adventure, moorlander. That was a gift your prince had.”

Ector glared at her with such hatred that she was sure that a curse would have been cast if there was any magic left on him. She raised her chin at him, daring him to protest. Whatever he had said about never seeing Amelia in court, there was no doubt to her that this man was close to the Raven King or at least in a position of intimacy with the royal family of the Moorlands.

Briallen didn’t believe for a second that he was just some envoy from the Brotherhood that served to represent his country because Lord Merlian didn’t want friction between the members of the company. It was an absurd story, not to mention ridiculous to have two people without magic in this group and one of them being there for ‘protection’. She understood why Lord Merlian might choose Ewen, the boy did have some talents and a good heart, even if he didn’t realise it yet. But what was the point of Ector in this? Why was he here if not to take Amelia away so she could be a weapon for the Raven King?

She doubted he wanted to right the wrongs he had committed against the rest of the continent, not when his actions had isolated Imnalia and given his kingdom a lot more power, and as much as she had liked Prince Ilian, he had said that he and his father were nothing alike.

Fortunately, it was a couple of hours for the Weaver to wake up. Briallen, Ivor and Ewen hovered close to her, immediately trying to help her when her eyes opened, but she didn’t seem to notice them. Her eyes opened and closed slowly as if she were seeing something else.

“He was always meant to lose,” she said very softly.

“Who?” Ivor asked.

“The king.”

“What king?” Briallen asked, closing in. Had the Weaver remembered more or had a vision from her time in the Raven King’s court?

“The King of the Giants,” Amelia Brown said and gave a little breathless laugh. “He was never going to become an emperor. He was too proud.”

Her eyes closed and rolled over her head and for a moment Briallen thought she would faint again, but then she blinked, frowned and looked at them.

“What happened?”

“You fainted,” Ivor explained. “You used your magic in excess, too quickly after a long while without it.”

“Right,” she murmured hoarsely, raising one of her blackened hands to her face. “My magic.”

She sighed and shook her head, mouthing something Briallen didn’t understand, then tried to get up. They helped her with care but she seemed well enough to walk. Ewen insisted on taking her things, saying he was fine carrying them until she was well enough.

“You have to choose the door,” he said with his bright smile. “It’s only right, you saved us all back there.”

“Are you sure? The last time I chose a door we nearly drowned.”

“You are not in control of the worlds inside, any of us could have chosen that one.”

“Alright,” Amelia said and Briallen took the silver key from her neck, sighed and turned to the ever-moving white doors.

She waited for one and reached with it, grazing it with her fingers. The door stopped and the Weaver touched the white surface with the palm of her hand before inserting the silver key in the doorknob. Briallen kept close, in case using the key would tax her or if this was another sea world.

Luck was on their side, though, and the next step they took was in a place over land. Blinking because of the brightness, the princess turned to see the perimeter as the rest of her companions crossed.

Most of all was field, Briallen walked over and looked over with her hand over her eyes. There was a large expanse of trees that went north from where they were, but at east she could swear there was the shape of smoke and… A tower?

“I think there might be a city close,” she said, turning to the others and pointing to the direction where the smoke seemed to come out. “There, see? When there is smoke, there is people. We might get food there.”

“Or we might get captured,” Ector countered, crossing his arms.

Briallen narrowed her eyes at him. Did he had the nerve to talk after what had happened?

“If we hunt here free here, we might get in trouble with whoever rules this land,” she said. “It’s better to buy the food or ask where we can hunt. I don’t know about you, my lord, but I don’t want to spend another day without eating in a dungeon.”

“She is right,” Amelia said, giving the man a look. “And besides, we don’t know yet but this might be your world. We should stay until we can confirm the contrary.”

Ector seemed prepared to protest but then shook his head. Disarmed and beaten up as he was, he couldn’t exactly put into a fight. He started walked in the direction Briallen pointed, but not before turning around and giving them a sullen book. “This is not our world, and you should know it better than anyone, princess.”

“What?” Briallen said, confused and casting a small spell under her breath. Everything felt normal. “How do you know—”

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you can’t feel it.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Those cold pale blue eyes nearly made her back off and for a moment, she realised they were the same colour that the Prince of the Moorlands had had. But for all their similarity with the eyes of the young prince she had met, the colour was where they started and ended. Ector blinked hard and stared at every one of them with a haunted expression. The setting sun over his pale, thin figure made him look like a ghost.

“You can’t feel it, then?” he asked in almost a whisper. “None of you?”

He turned to the Weaver, who only gave him a strange look, almost pitying. Then, Ector smiled, though there was no trace of happiness on his face, only the most dreadful misery.

“It’s the feeling of magic poisoning the earth, princess,” he said and turned around to keep walking. “The feeling of the world dying because a dragon’s blood was spilt.”

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In the end, they didn’t reach the place where the smoke came from, and despite the protest from Ivor, who insisted that he and the princess would light the way, they ended up making a fire and a camp under a safe circle of trees.

The fire was easy to do, with their magic and Ewen had brought some of the wood he had collected in the previous world. Amelia couldn’t help but be grateful that wherever they were going was still far away, even with the hunger. To tell the truth, she was still exhausted and didn’t want to faint again.

The ink on her hands hadn’t faded yet, it marked her skin with what had happened in the Land of the Giants as truth. She couldn’t even write it off as luck, because during her unconsciousness her mind had screamed with images, memories and words. Words popped in the back of her mind narrating what had happened in that place, how the king had been a powerful warrior that dreamed of becoming emperor. How the humans, after being made slaves and crushed under his power, had raised against him created a new way with magic and technology, until the king would be no more.

Then she had seen herself, seated that awkwardly made desk in a hall with the king smiling on his throne, sitting down during a bonfire, telling stories to the children that lived in his court, telling the king, maybe before she left, to evacuate his innocents if he truly cared about them, but that she was sure that his next battle would be victorious.

Had she done that on purpose? Had she purposely changed their destiny for her own ends? Over a whim? To see what happened? Had she led them to victory to destroy them?

She fell into a restless sleep and inside it she was in a room, sitting down with a big, fluffy black cat in her lap. There was someone else there, talking, making her laugh, but Amelia couldn’t make up their face, it was as if they were behind a curtain.

“I’m telling you, it’s ridiculous!” he said, it was a man then. Yet Amelia still couldn’t make up his face. She kept laughing, caressing the big cat’s fur. “You should have told him to take his suggestions and shoved them in his—”

“Only you could make me laugh about this,” she said, the burn of the previous crying she had done still under her eyes.

“You take things to seriously, Amy,” he said and she shook her head. “Anyway, I should have been on that call with you. Sorry. You know we are in this together.”

“Couldn’t forget it,” Amelia said and smiled, happier than she had ever been in any previous dream.

Ewen’s hand over her shoulder made her jump, the green light from between the leaves taking her back to the forest. She shook her head at the boy’s concerned stare and rubbed her eyes.

“We need to keep going.” Briallen reached out to help her up, she was already up and dressed. Amelia nodded and tried to crack her back, she wasn’t used to sleeping on the ground and her body was cursing her for it.

“We can’t be more than three miles away,” Ivor said grumpily. “No rest until we get there, yeah? We are perfectly capable of travelling by night.”

“I just hope there is a bed,” said Ewen, talking for all of them or at least talking for Amelia. “And food.”

“We can always hunt,” Briallen said as they put on their last luggage and started walking. “I am sure you are perfectly capable of that too, aren’t you, Master Ivor?”

The journey continued quite uneventfully, though the fatigue and lack of food seemed to be making itself shown in herself, Ewen and… him. Briallen and Ivor seemed to be holding on better or at least pretended to be.

Unlike the previous world, this one seemed to be in the middle of summer and before they were halfway through, Amelia had to shed her coat and jumper, carrying the former from her bag and tying the latter around her waist. Eventually, a road appeared in their way, and they followed it until they could finally visualise where the smoke came from.

“A village?” Ewen asked, smiling. “Maybe they’ll have an inn there.”

“It’s a camp,” Almeric said, speaking for the first time in nearly a day. “Military, if all those horse hoofs’ prints say something.”

“Maybe it is a royal progress, like those they do in the Moorlands,” Briallen said, not paying mind to his cautious tone. “And in any case, we don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“What if they think we are spies?” Amelia asked, as they came closer, the tents and horses were more apparent. Yes, there was a village too, but it seemed to be behind the camp.

“We won’t stay enough for that to happen,” Ivor said, determined. “We’ll get to the village, get food and water and a good night of rest, then we’ll find a door to cross. We stay together and nothing else has to happen. If this is not our world as you said, Ector, then we needn’t be here for long.”

They rounded the camp as a safety measure, going close to the road and then around the sea of tents that surrounded the village. Briallen and Ivor stayed at each side of her, flanking her, smiling at the passing people who looked at them funny. Ewen and Almeric stayed on the back, which when she thought about it, was just a disadvantage because only one of them was armed.

Amelia fidgeted with her ring and the ink pot in the pocket of her coat. There was something about this place, something that hadn’t sparked when she had been taken to the castle of the King of the Giants: recognition. Once they were inside the village, she started squinting at the sun and staring, remembering where there was an inn and pointing it to Ewen, who almost sprinted alone to it but was stopped.

“Have you been here before?”

“I think so,” Amelia said, “I know where the inn is, but it might be crowded with the army here.”

“It is an army then?” Briallen frowned, still holding Ewen’s arm.

“Yes, but I don’t think they’ll hurt us, they are not here for an attack.”

They were there for something else, they were waiting for something else, for someone.

She closed her eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“You are all right, lady?”

“Yes.” Amelia turned for a moment, squinting her eyes at the sun and spotting the golden peak of the tallest tent in the camp that was visible even from inside the village. A face flashed in her mind, the face of a young woman, bleeding and walking alone in the raging sun. They’d find her soon, they had to. They were waiting. “Yes, let’s go. We might get lucky with the beds.”

It was a strange place, in a way, while Amelia’s clothes were obviously the ones that stood out the most out of the whole group, the people in this world also looked at the others strangely. In the inn, which was as crowded as she predicted, she found herself looking at the customers and patrons. Their clothes weren’t as plain and straight as Briallen’s or Ivor’s. The women wore full skirts down to the ankles and the men wore puffed doublets. They reminded her of portraits she had seen of Queen Elizabeth I or some later Tudor period, though unlike those portraits, the women had their heads uncovered and many even had their hair loose and dishevelled despite the heat.

Everything seemed weirdly mismatched, like a world out of a play, her companions sort of plain in this worldly, loud and colourful place. Amelia was probably the weirdest of them all, with her short hair, her coat and clothes that might have looked like undergarments in the eyes of the patrons.

The inn was crowded with both soldiers and patrons and while Ivor tried to get beds for them, Briallen took the task of getting them a table and something to eat, as well as asking what was the fuss around the village.

“It’s the duchess’ daughter, the princess,” a woman told Briallen, as they finally got a table to sit down. “She came from long far away after being snatched away and they were taking her to take her crown. Those bastards from Dreland took her for all we know, and whoever was with her. Her aunt and mentor are cleaning the whole county to get her, but I will say that queen of theirs will ask for a ransom before they even dare to show the girl.”

“That’s terrible,” Briallen said.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“So you think there might be a battle in this place?” Americ asked at the same time.

The woman shook her head. “They are trying to get the girl with talking terms, her aunt, the countess is a witch and so is that other lady with the white hair that raised her. I doubt they will be open to continuing with the war, they have lost a lot these last twenty years and their new king is a child. The regent is a bastard though, took the place from the little king’s mother and locked her up, poor wretch.”

“I’m sure she’ll be back,” Amelia said with more confidence than she intended.

She didn’t add that the war might be inevitable and that the girl might come from her captivity changed. It was too redundant, wasn’t it? No one went through something like that and was reminded of the same.

They got rooms and almost no money left, but Amelia was happier than she had ever been in days when she saw that they were going to be sleeping on a mattress and had water to wash. The men got their own rooms, all together in a single one, while she and Briallen shared one with a single bed. She took her change of clothes from her travelling bag there, spreading the extra underwear, the breeches, the jumper and the shirt on the bed. They had dried from their time in the sea world, though they smelled of salt even with the spells Ivor had done to dry them.

Briallen got off her clothes with ease, barely paying Amelia any mind at first, then turning around, blushing and letting out a laugh. “I am sorry, I should have asked. I’m just used to undressing—”

“We’re both women, don’t worry,” Amelia said, hiding her own embarrassment and starting to get out of her clothes.

“I got used to going off alone when travelling with those three,” the princess said, searching for the washing basin, she had her breast pressed in some kind of bandage to keep them supported. “Before that, it was always me and my companions or my sister.”

The innkeeper had left some soap for them, they halved it with Briallen’s and started washing. Amelia longed for a bath, like the ones she could take in her little house, but this had to be enough for now. She scrubbed black ink from her arms and shoulders with a little too much force, then she washed the rest of herself, a little self-conscious of getting fully naked in front of someone else when Briallen didn’t seem to have the same problem.

“You haven’t yet told me how you did it,” the princess said as they finished. Amelia stayed in her brasserie and camisole while she sat on the bed with her shift.

“Did what?”

“Your magic, you didn’t seem to have access to it before. What happened with that giant that you started using it?”

Amelia ran her fingers through her hair and sat in the bed, not looking her companion’s face. “He knew me from before, he sort of forced me to do it.”

“Forced you?”

“In exchange of your lives.”

“Oh.” Briallen looked down and then reached for Amelia’s hand. “I am sorry, I should have stopped Ector from doing something so stupid.”

“Do you know why he wanted that flower?”

Briallen scoffed. “That man doesn’t tell anything to anyone, least of all me. I’m quite sure he thinks the witches of my coven are all hot-headed idiots that would attack are sorcerer just for existing in the same place.”

She wasn’t exactly wrong about that.

“Wouldn’t you?” Amelia asked, bracing for the response. Briallen’s eyes widened. “Ewen and Ivor said your people aren’t in the best of terms with the Moorlands or the Brotherhood.”

“We are not,” Briallen murmured. “But I won’t act in a way that shames my family or my mother. Ector is just one man and whatever we want it or not, what we are doing is for our whole world, even if I can’t trust his king, I might be able to trust him if he just gave me a reason.”

“Why can’t you trust his king? Ewen said you travelled with his son.”

She regretted the question as soon as it came out because Briallen’s face grew serious and she pulled away her hand, fisting the bedsheets. It was a similar expression to the one Almeric had had in the dungeon, one of grief, of hate, of regret. Were they both for the same reason?

“I did,” the young woman spoke quietly, her face carefully merging into a blank expression. “He was a good lad, we didn’t exactly plan to travel together, he was on our island with his aunt in a diplomatic meeting because the Raven King rarely set foot out of the Moorlands unless there was a campaign. I… I convinced him to go with me, so we might find some solution. I was so sure that in the old temples, far away from the cities and the up where the dragons themselves had been sealed. I was so sure we’d find an answer to what had happened. We did find something… Someone. But when we did it was not what we expected. She was the cruellest creature I had ever seen, Amelia Brown, maybe crueller than the Raven King himself. But how could I blame her for her rage? Our kind, all of us, humans, were destroying the world that hers had created. The Raven King killed one of them for glory, so when she saw her son…”

She stopped and Amelia let out a shuddering breath. So that’s what had happened? Briallen had been with his son? Had he died alongside her? Then why Briallen was so angry at him when it had been her who had taken his son to such a dangerous place?

“I didn’t know there was a curse,” the princess said after a moment. “I didn’t know how deep it would go. He was cut, yes, but when we went back, he was fine. Only months later when we received news about how he died, the way he died… The way it spread through all that camp…”

She cut herself, her voice breaking and it was Amelia who took her hand then.

“My sister was there when it happened,” she said and let out a breathless laugh. “She was alive by the time she wrote the letter and told me what had happened with clear detail, asking me if I had any similar... symptoms. I couldn’t write to her for nearly a month. What could I tell her? That it had been my fault? That our mother thought it was divine justice? She told me about the king, he was there when his son died… They said something happened to him there, that he had got the sickness and made sook an even more forbidden art to stop it from spreading. I don’t know. All I could think about those months was that I should have done better and that boy died because of me. That my sister… Almeric killed her, I know that, he killed her because of me.”

“Why was she doing there?”

“She was part of the Brotherhood,” Briallen said with a tearful laugh. “One of the few women there. She was a healer, my mother’s shame. And she was killed for her harshness and my stupidity.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Oh, but I know,” Briallen snapped, taking away her hand to wipe her face. “She vanished. No one saw her after the date she had written to me. She wasn’t in the camp, she didn’t go to court nor did she return to Grunore. I know he killed her. It was his son and heir against a healer that couldn’t save him, the sister of his enemy and the one that had taken him to the dragon.”

Amelia didn’t know what to say so she stayed silent. The Raven King hadn’t said anything about Briallen being responsible for her son, did he even know it had been her with him before he had died? Or did he just blame that dragon that had put the curse more, regardless of how Ilian had gotten there?

They brought their dinner up to the room, not wanting to go down with the loudness of the patron for what might be their single night under a roof in a long time. After a quiet dinner of bread, cheese and stew, Briallen fell asleep but Amelia stayed up, looking out of the window to the silhouettes of the camp at the outskirts of the village.

She thought of the girl that the patrons had mentioned, the princess brought from being away in a faraway land and of Briallen, both burdened to save a land that might be dying or in a conflict, then she looked at her hands, clean now and extended the right one in front of her face. Slowly, she closed her eyes half the way, opened them and the hand in front of her shifted. Suddenly, it wasn’t in front of a window illuminated by the moon, it was in front of a brick wall, smaller and covered in blood.

Giving a little jelp, she nearly fell back with the chair, but when she blinked her hand was back to normal.

Once again, the image of a girl’s blood hand was in the back of her mind. Like a memory, but not exactly, she knew it was not her hand, but it felt like she had been looking through that girl’s eyes.

She woke up earlier than Briallen, getting up before the sun rose to wash once again and change back into her second change of clothes. The first one, which she had hurriedly washed and put to dry close to the fireplace, was still a little damp but not anything she could ask them to dry with magic later. She combed her hair as best as she could even when it was sticking to every place and then went down to have breakfast.

The innkeeper was already working, calling for her employees and the cook to prepare for the few patrons who were already up so early.

“Can I have something hot to drink, please?” She would have killed for a coup of tea, but it didn’t seem to be something they sell in this place.

The innkeeper chuckled and gave her and amused look. “I can get you the soup we made last night if you want, lady. It’s still good.”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Amelia said with a small smile and went to find a table to sit.

The soup was well enough to wake her up properly, though it did get her funny looks from the people to be drinking something hot in the middle of such summer. Soon the rest of her companions started appearing in the hall, though they got too late to sit beside her since her table had quickly filled with other customers. Ivor was the first, cordially wishing her good morning while taking some ale and Ewen going with his usual easiness, asking her if she had slept well. Amelia lied, saying she had rested well. Briallen came down and sat silently in a corner, looking down embarrassed when Amelia bid her good morning.

“Where is Ector?” Amelia mouthed to Ewen after they had finished breakfast.

“He went to see if he could find someone to sell him a bow and a quiver,” the boy answered, almost screaming among the increasing noise of the people gathering.

“He better come back on time,” Ivor said, he was the closest to her hearing range. “Now that we are here we can use any door in the inn.”

A few hours passed and by that time Ivor ordered Ewen to go and find the man and see if something had happened to him. The inn was brimming with people, the village was also bursting, and the armies gathered had men and women coming and going, though that was not all. Something was going to happen, she knew that, and for all she knew, Almeric could be trapped in the middle of it.

So what? A voice said in the back of her mind. He is a horrible person, didn’t you listen to what Briallen told you? He is ruthless. He is a villain. He might have killed her poor sister on revenge. Why not let him here? Why didn’t you let him in that dungeon? He knows as little about you as you know about him.

He knew as little as she knew, truth to be told.

But still…

“I’ll go with you,” she said as Ewen stood up from the stool.

“Is that wise, my lady?” Ivor asked and Amelia gave him a look.

“I think I have proved that I am capable of taking care of myself, haven’t I?"

“Yes, but—”

“We won’t be long,” she said and shook her head at Briallen before the princess could get up and follow them.

Exiting the inn was hard, but trying to walk the streets was a nightmare. The crowd was so thick that Amelia had to ask for pass more than one time only to be pushed by another person walking in the opposite direction. Ewen kept close, one hand on her elbow, the other in the short sword on his belt.

“Excuse me! Sorry, sorry. Excuse me. Can you tell me where the smith is?” He asked to a passing woman who went in their same direction.

“Oh, the smith must be with the army now, laddie, in the camp,” the woman answered and pointed to the tents.

Amelia sighed and walked forward, nearly dragging Ewen alone, in the crowd.

“Maybe we should come back,” he said, looking back at the direction where the inn had disappeared. “Princess Briallen can find him with a spell.”

“That might raise suspicion here,” she said and shook her head. “Come along, there must be a queue, that’s why he is taking so long.”

“Or maybe he is arguing with the smith,” Ewen tried to laugh but worry marred his tone.

The way to the camp wasn’t far but the number of soldiers slowed their path. When they finally got there, three of them blocked their path to the tents.

“We just want to pick up our friend, good man,” Ewen told the armoured men. “We don’t even want to enter.”

“Access to weaponry is restricted today.”

“Good! Then he couldn’t have gone so far,” Ewen chirped, clearly losing his patience. “You might go and fetch him if you won’t let us pass. He is a thin fellow with dark hair.”

The soldier narrowed his eyes. “We don’t leave our post, there have been many disturbances in the last days.”

Disturbances indeed. Amelia stared up at the sky and closed her eyes. There was a girl in the other side of the camp, coming from a long, tiring walk in the empty country. Wounded, sick and alone.

“I’m sure you are doing your duty, friend, and we won’t ask you for anything else. We are travellers, we’ll take our friend and—”

“Is ir guarding the smith as important as helping your princess?” Amelia said and the men looked at her like she had just popped from thin air. “She’ll be arriving soon, and trouble with her.”

“What are you talking about, woman?”

“I mean that she is here now.” Amelia turned around to the see the people already running in the direction that the girl had arrived. “You should go and help them.”

“What?”

The screams broke out and Amelia shook her head, passing through the men and running towards the tent.

“Wait!”

“Go and help your people!” she shouted, cursing herself for not just writing them away, but the possibility of fainting again stopped her.

The smith’s tent was indeed full of people, men and women, knights and villagers, all of them already turning around when she entered, already going to see what the commotion outside was about. She called for the fake name the Raven King used, after chocking with the real one midway. They needed to get out of there. Now.

“He is not here!” she shouted turning around to find Ewen. “Come on, we have to find the others before it—”

The screams broke out, the earth trembled and Amelia tripped when a man grabbed her coat to support himself, pulling both of them to the ground. She rolled to one side before one of the runners could step on her, Ewen helped her up, pulling from the back of her coat.

“Are you alright?” he shouted among the screams. “What is happening?”

“It was a trap,” Amelia murmured, thinking about the girl in the field, the girl who was already safe in a tent, telling her aunt those exact words. “They let her go so they could attack her mentor here. Let’s find him and leave before they—”

“Stop!” A soldier asked, sword drawn, making them halt outside the tent. “Who are you? You are not from this kingdom.”

“We are just travellers, sir!”

“He’s armed!” Someone shouted, pointing at Ewen. Amelia shook her head and stepped in front of the boy before the soldiers could do anything. Her hand went down her pocket for the ink-pot, hastily opening it with two fingers.

“We are just travellers,” she said trying to keep calm. “We are not from Verena, but we are not from your enemies’ land either, I swear. My brother and I are just looking for my husband, we believe he has gotten into trouble. Please.”

Ewen stared at her, eyes wide at how easily the lies came from her. She had surprised herself, but what else could they say? They couldn’t possibly say they were from another world, even if they were to be believed, even if this world had enough magic to make it seem possible.

The soldiers narrowed their eyes, staring at her clothes up and down and Amelia took a deep breath, halting her hand from unscrewing the inkpot in her pocket.

“What’s that?” he said and she swallowed, taking the inkpot out with two fingers and showing it to him.

“Just ink for our letters, sir.” She smiled, screwing the cap open and dirtying her fingers, showing them to him. “Just normal ink, as I said, we are just travelled and our mother worries a lot.”

The soldier frowned and nodded, letting them pass. Amelia took Ewen’s arm as they walked and quickly wrote in the inside of her wrist. We find him. We find him now.

“Has the countess said where to take the prisoners?” A knight shouted as they dodged the people running back to the village.

“All of them to the cages, the ones you can’t contain with normal force to her tent,” another answered and Ewen stared at her once again.

“My lady…”

“They must have thought he was of their enemy’s side. Quick!”

Fire was burning in the distance and suddenly there wasn’t a single soldier that would stop them. The battle had broken out and ended quickly, but the commotion was still brewing and the people wouldn’t get out of it until everything was done. She hissed at Ewen before he could draw his sword, turning to every side to see the cages where the prisoners were supposed to be or the tent that belonged to the countess.

“I’ll go to the tent,” she shouted at the boy. “We’ll do it quicker if we separate. If you find him or I’ll find him we’ll meet in the village.”

Ewen opened his mouth to say something, to tell her they weren’t supposed to get separated, that they were supposed to protect her, but he stopped himself and nodded.

The tent wasn’t far and was easy to find, she didn’t even need to remember it, even when she knew how it looked both from the outside and the inside. It was the biggest tent in the camp, pearly grey, with the duchess crest with the falcon and the wolf still standing in a banner.

She will show me what will happen with them. She’ll give me no choice, so I know there won’t be. That I have to accept this is my destiny no matter how much I want to go back home.

Amelia stopped just in front of the tent’s door, her foot in the edge as the words flooded her mind. He wasn’t there, the girl hadn’t see anyone like Almeric, she had been with her aunt, almost alone until she forced her to get out and showed her why she had to stay in this land.

“Who’s there?” A voice shouted from inside the tent and Amelia froze. She heard the crick of a bed and tried to will her legs to step back and get to the village but just as the words and the images had come to her head since the moment they stepped into this world, her feet moved against her will and she found herself face to face with the lost princess.

She was young, so young. She stared at Amelia with scared, bright, distrustful green eyes, the cuts on her face and her ruined clothes showing the hell she had gone trough during those months of captivity.

“You’re the duchess’ daughter, Phillipa,” Amelia said and the girl frowned, taking a step back, looking at her up down as if she had just noticed the clothes she was wearing.

The clothes singled her out as much as Phillipa’s did, the pants, the shirt that was too big for her, the pants that were too tight and fitted to be from a man’s.

“Did my aunt send you?” the girl asked but Amelia said nothing. “You are from home, but… Those clothes look like the 1920s.”

“I am not from your world.” The girl’s expression deflated and Amelia wanted to tell her that there was no going back, not for her at least, because she knew what would happen. She saw it now. The boy… That boy that had came to this world with her, he would come back, but not her. Phillipa did not belong to that world, no more than Amelia had belonged to any of the worlds she had walked into.

“What are you doing here then?”

“Just to tell you something.” She blinked rapidly to ease the burn in her eyes. “Your friend, Chris.”

“Do you know where he is?” The girl asked, grabbing her forearms. “Did he make it?”

“He is in the city, he is safe,” Amelia said, feeling sick. In her mind, she remembered the boy as if she had met him just now, the same age as Phillipa, only fifteen. They had dragged him away as his best friend had let herself be taken away to save him. He would be riding to this very camp now, after all, he had followed his best friend to another world.

And this girl, this girl that had been burdened with a purpose that she didn’t want, would have to give him up in some short weeks.

The smile that spread through the princess’ face broke her heart and she didn’t know why… No, she did know why, but how she had the knowledge and why she deserved it was still splitting her head in two.

Phillipa hugged her, suddenly, unexpectedly for a girl that had had to hold her own in front of her strict guardian just hours ago. Amelia blinked, the tears falling down her cheeks as she touched the girl’s dirty, dark blonde hair.

“Thank you,” the little heroine said. “You’ve given me more hope in one news than they do in twenty.”

“Don’t thank me,” Amelia said, swallowing the knot in her throat and freeing herself from the girl. “I’m just a passing traveller. Good luck, princess.”

“Wait!” Phillipa cried when she turned around, making her halt at the tent’s door. “Take this, for your journey. I’ll try to find you when I get home or your relatives if you are too old in my time.”

Amelia nearly smiled, she felt rather old now. Older than that child, for sure, older than any of this.

The cloak was one of those that one could put their arms through, knee-length, of a soft dark grey wool. Amelia wanted to to reject it, to tell her she wasn’t worth it but then she remembered Fiona, the giant king and the people of those other worlds who might just not remember she was ever there. And because of that, even her news about Chris’ survival might just vanish from Phillipa’s mind, she’d know when the fight would be the thickest and run to him, apologising for bringing him to this place.

“Thank you,” she said, putting the cloak on even when the heat outside would be unbearable in it.

She squeezed the girl’s hand one last time and put the hood on, crossing the threshold to the chaos from the outside world.