Lyle listened to the grass. It sounded like whispers from a thousand voices. It sounded like it was saying something he was too afraid to hear.

  He sat on a boulder on the side of the road, the reins of his chestnut horse in his hand, and his clothes the most expensive he had ever worn. He did not even know the cost, except that he could never have afforded them with his wage as a guide. Only a week ago, a guide was all he had been. Now he was “in favor with the Queen of Ordivicia,” who looked to be winning the war against her enemies.

  In the last report he had heard, the remaining clans were surrendering to her and joining her country. The siege of Whitehall, failed in its last stages because the queen had more soldiers stationed there than the clans could fight, had been one last desperate act of a dying resistance. Digging out collapsed tunnels to sneak-attack the queen, and likely her children, had not been enough.

  The grass rustled and sighed all around Lyle as he looked down the road that led to his home.

  The message was delivered. The words rang in his mind over and over. The message was delivered. That was what the queen’s messenger had told him a week ago. The letter he sent home, it had been delivered to his home. The letter detailing what had happened and what he had chosen to do next, the letter with half of the reward attached to it. He’d sent home more money than his family could dream of.

  The letter had a request, too—he had invited Brandon to join him on the next stage of his adventure: the join the Cambrian military. Brandon didn’t have to join with him, but they could live in the same city. Brandon could travel with his half of the reward. Lyle could keep an eye on him.

  In a week’s time, the letter went on, Brandon could meet Lyle on this crossroads, and anyone else was welcome to come and see Lyle off.

  Yet the meeting time was over an hour ago, and no one was here.

  The message was delivered.

  Lyle had half-expected his whole family to come, certainly Roderick and Mary, and try to talk him out of it. He already had in mind what he would say to them.

  The only thing I know about my father is that he was a Cambrian soldier. I have a recommendation from the Queen of Ordivicia, I can’t say no now. I want to see more of the world, I want to meet new people. Beth and Isabel can take over guiding for the rest of the season, they know what they’re doing.

  And what would he say if Jessica came? Guilt settled in his stomach. He couldn’t deny that his longing for her had faded. Perhaps they weren’t as good of a match as he had thought, because he didn’t miss her. Instead he found himself thinking of Iris too often . . . the way she had nearly cried when they said goodbye, and plant a kiss on his cheek. He had blushed so hard he knew she’d seen it.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  But a princess. Stupid ideas. No, if Jessica came, he would tell her that he would make a good wage as a soldier, and he didn’t plan to stay in the military more than the required four years. Then he would be old enough to return home and . . . marry her. If that was what he still wanted by then.

  He shook his head aimlessly. Too many thoughts.

  He emptied his mind of worry and closed his eyes, listening to the grass. He focused on his body, and his feelings as they came. Dread. Why did he feel dread?

  “Lyle,” came Soren’s voice from nearby.

  Lyle opened his eyes and turned to him. Clean and refreshed-looking, but his hair damp from the noon sun, Soren gave him a sympathetic look. “We need to be moving on soon.”

  Lyle glanced at the ten soldiers accompanying them—by the queen’s insistence for their safety from bandits and any remaining Ordics. A few were glaring his way but looked elsewhere when he met their eye.

  Lyle let out a hot breath. “It won’t be much longer. Someone will come.”

  The message was delivered.

  “Are you sure?”

  “My whole family will—will be . . . distraught. They’ll come to try to talk me out of it if nothing else.”

  “Do you want to be talked out of it?”

  “No, but my brother—”

  What if his father had found the letter before Brandon had? Not likely, with Brandon around the house all day, he would hear a horse approaching . . .

  “Are you sure they want to speak with you at all, Lyle?”

  Lyle swallowed and looked down. “No.”

  “No one is here. We’ll be getting to the inn past nightfall if we wait much longer, and the roads aren’t safe. Perhaps we should go.”

  Lyle rubbed his forehead.

  “You can send them more letters once we arrive, if you wish. Perhaps they will respond to that.”

  Lyle nodded.

  The only thing I know for sure about my father is that he was a Cambrian soldier. I want to follow that and see if I can learn anything more about him. I want to follow in his footsteps and see why he did what he did. That’s what he would tell Roderick.

  Well, if no one wanted to see him, and Brandon wasn’t brave enough to come, then . . . then . . .

  Soren reached over and gripped Lyle’s shoulder. “You’ll make plenty of friends in the military. And you’ll have me close by—you know, our living spaces are even on the same side of the building. You won’t be lonely.”

  Soren was coming with Lyle to the capitol of Cambria, where Lyle would train and Soren would be a scribe. Lyle was finding a better liking to Soren every day. They were very different, but got along well. Soren was a steady man, though shy sometimes, and he knew many things about other countries and their history—even more than Iris. They wouldn’t get tired of speaking to each other, not even with long days of travel ahead of them.

  “Fine,” Lyle said quietly. He took one look back down the road where he had been hoping to see Brandon. “Fine.” If his family didn’t want to speak with him, then he didn’t want to speak with them.

  He stood up, running his eyes, for they pricked with tears. He ignored the grass, which seem to keep whispering, something is very, very wrong.