“On a scale of one to ten, how much do we trust this woman?” Drayce inquired.
“Five,” Caelan answered.
“Five,” Eno admitted.
All eyes fell on Rayne, who was frowning as he watched Vale take a saddle bag from the horse and toss it aside. She then moved on to the saddle and bridle, caring for the animal. “Six…and a half.”
“Really?” Caelan gasped.
“If it was Prince Shey in front of us, I would have said ten. Even though she was assigned to us by the prince, she has been out of Caspagir on assignment in Zastrad for five years. Her first and only priority is her mission and Caspagir. I’m afraid she might see us as a hindrance. The sooner she can get rid of us, the better. But, she’s part of a team chosen and trusted by Prince Shey to protect his people. I don’t believe he would entrust the King of Erya to someone who wouldn’t take the responsibility of caring for Caelan seriously.”
“Well, that was a hell of a pep talk,” Drayce muttered.
“It’s not Rayne’s job to sugarcoat things. I need him to be honest at all times.” Caelan pulled on the handle and opened his door. Caution with Vale was their best option. If they were lucky, she would get them directly to Mrtyu. If not, she could at least give them some tips on navigating Zastrad and point them in the right direction.
As they approached as a group, Vale looked up from her care of the horse, wrinkling her pert nose at them. “You got gear? We’re making camp here tonight and working out a plan before we move forward.”
“Prince Shey supplied us with tents and other necessities,” Rayne answered.
The woman snorted. “The gods only know what his people consider suitable supplies.” She turned away from the horse and moved to a fire pit a short distance from her yurt. She waved a hand in the direction of some open space to the left of her yurt. “You can set up your tents right here. We’ll go through what you’ve got. We can figure out what you need, what we can trade for suitable supplies.”
Eno jerked his thumb toward their vehicle. “The car?”
“Spare gas?”
He nodded. “Enough for probably another few hundred miles.”
She turned and stared off to the south, shoving one hand through her thick hair. It hung free down to the middle of her back in a mass of waves and curls. There were a few slender braids among the free locks, but they were almost completely lost when she shifted toward them again. “There’s a good-sized town less than a hundred miles from here. We can leave the car there and buy some horses. They’re more reliable and give us more options for cutting across country.”
“Shey told you where we were headed?”
Vale frowned at Caelan for a heartbeat and finally shook her head. “He didn’t tell me fucking shit. Just that he’s sending some important people and that someone needed to take them wherever the hell they needed to go. Even if it was straight into New Rosanthe.”
“Wait! You don’t know who he is?” Drayce demanded, pointing right at Caelan’s face.
Caelan batted Drayce’s hand away, though it looked like both Eno and Rayne wanted to take turns smacking Drayce on the head.
Vale’s eyebrows jumped up and she stared at Caelan until it became uncomfortable. “No. I mean, you seem familiar.”
“It’s the haircut.” Drayce turned to him and smirked. “You’re way overdue for a haircut.”
Caelan couldn’t stop himself from reaching up and touching a length of hair that was threatening to fall in front of his eyes. He’d always worn his hair long, but this was feeling a bit longer than usual. It wasn’t as if there had been any time to indulge in a haircut while they’d been in Stormbreak, though.
“Seriously, who are you? What the hell is going on?” Vale demanded. She spread her legs and planted her hands on her hips. “We’re not moving another inch until I know what’s going on.”
Rayne’s lips pressed into a hard line and even Drayce looked uneasy, as if suddenly realizing that he’d blown any hopes of them having cover against someone Rayne didn’t trust in the least.
“I’m King Caelan Talos of Erya. We need you to take us to Zastrad’s Dead God, which we’re assuming is in Mrtyu.”
For several heartbeats, Vale didn’t react. She didn’t move. Caelan was pretty damn sure she wasn’t even breathing. And then she exploded into rage-fueled action.
“Son of a bitch!” she shouted. She stomped across the campsite and kicked a stick, sending it twirling through the air as she stomped back in the opposite direction, still cursing. Although she had switched to Zastari, the tone was still the same. He wasn’t sure if her issue had to do with who she was dealing with or where she was supposed to lead them. Maybe a little bit of both.