Part 15 (1/2)

”No, not as a friend. I really love you, Kyra. Working here beside you these past months, I've never been happier. I think we should get married.”

Kyra had almost fallen off her lab stool.

It had taken him months to convince her, and when she'd said yes-shortly before her sixteenth birthday and the silly underwear gift from Ariana-she'd thought she was sure. It was the right thing to do, wasn't it? And working well with someone, doing something you cared about-that was more or less love, wasn't it?

Kyra tried to push away the memory of that moment. She knew now that she wasn't in love with Hal, not by a long shot, but she missed the easy companions.h.i.+p she'd had with him and Ned. She'd been happy. And now- If they caught her, the least that could happen would be imprisonment.

More likely she'd hang.

As the sun sank beneath the trees, Kyra saw a sparkle of water up ahead. She stopped and set Rosie and her pack beneath a tree, then got out her waterskins.

The bank down to the water was carpeted in browned pine needles, and their sharp scent revived Kyra, who felt like she almost couldn't take one more step. She was tired and forlorn. No closer to the princess than she was three months ago. And now she was tagged. Things couldn't get any worse for her.

At the edge of the stream she reached down to fill the first skin, the water icy over her hands. She watched the reflection of the trees on the water, the small yellow leaves twirling in the eddies.

A shriek burst out from Rosie.

Kyra turned, and there was Rosie being attacked by a wild dog. The pig squealed again.

Even as Kyra leaped up, shouting, the wild dog sank its teeth into Rosie and started shaking her back and forth.

”NO!” Kyra shouted, letting the waterskin fall to the ground and throwing a needle. ”Drop her!”

She hit the wild dog square on the side. It fell to the ground, its jaws releasing Rosie. She tumbled to the earth and lay absolutely still. There were b.l.o.o.d.y puncture holes where the dog's teeth had sunk into her belly.

The sight of the little wounded pig drove Kyra to her knees.

Cold fear gripped her heart, and all thoughts of her mission fled her mind.

She couldn't lose Rosie.

Kyra touched a hand to Rosie's chest. The pit-pat of a beating heart pulsed under her fingers. She tore off the hem of her s.h.i.+rt and wrapped it around the pig.

”Rosie, I'm so, so sorry.” Why hadn't she brought a single healing potion with her? Her only friend in the entire world lay bleeding to death at her feet, and she was too exhausted to think clearly enough to come up with a way to keep Rosie alive. Kyra felt again like things could get no worse.

That's when she heard the voices behind her. ”She's here. Close by.” Ned.

”Spread out the troops, Sergeant.” Hal's voice was so cold, so sure of himself.

”You heard him!” a harsh man's voice barked out. ”Fan out!”

Kyra gingerly scooped up Rosie and ran as quickly and as quietly as she could in the opposite direction, tears streaming down her face, her body racked with fatigue.

It took a good long while before the voices faded. But Kyra didn't think for a moment that she'd lost them. They were right on her trail.

She didn't dare look down to see if Rosie was still with her. She convinced herself that she could feel the little pig breathing, but couldn't bring herself to check.

She'd been jogging along for hours, feeling so tired it was an effort to keep her eyes on the trail and her legs moving, when the trail ended in the shallows of a wicked-looking bog. It appeared from nowhere and stretched in front of her as far as she could see, a swampy mess of fallen trees bearded with moss, and low-lying fog clinging to the water, and the stink of things decomposing in murk.

Kyra tried to pull herself up short at the marshy edge.

But she was unsteady on her feet from running for hours straight. And instead of stopping, she tripped over her own feet and tumbled directly into the mucky water.

Only it wasn't mucky water at all. The ground beneath her looked exactly like regular dirt. It was regular dirt.

Kyra raised herself up, keeping Rosie tucked under her arm, and looked around. As she got to her feet, she could see the bog take form in the air, coalescing out of nothingness. She felt the cold cling of the fog, smelled the stench of rotting things, heard the lapping of the swamp water. Then she ducked her head down and watched it all vanish.

The bog was an illusion.

She stumbled forward, hunched over, working her way deeper into the bog glamour, knowing the magic of it would help confuse Ned's tag.

Kyra had read about such large-scale illusions but never seen one: it took many magic workers to pull one off, and finding that many powerful people together was rare. Potioners' schools, or witches' covens, or- Gypsies.

Kyra saw the glimmer of the caravans' lanterns before she saw any people-their wagons were ringed around a large fire. She staggered toward the nearest wagon, but it only seemed to get farther and farther away the more steps she took, until finally she fell to her knees, the lantern light an ever-distant glow.

Of course they'd have other protection spells, she thought, realizing her confusion was another ward placed by the Gypsies on the caravan.

It was her last thought before she collapsed in exhaustion.

A SCENT OF INCENSE and honey was floating on the air.

Mmmm...honey. Kyra's stomach growled in response. She was lying on her back on a soft pallet, and when she opened her eyes she was staring up at a brilliant multicolored cloth roof lit by suns.h.i.+ne. Images of red and gold b.u.t.terflies flew among the flowers on the ceiling tapestry.

The warmth of the sun made her want to shut her eyes again and sink back into sleep. But then a thought darted into her brain and p.r.i.c.ked her skin.

Rosie!

She sat up and looked around, but the pig was nowhere in sight.

Struggling to get out of bed, Kyra felt warm hands rest on top of her shoulders. ”It's okay,” a melodious voice said. ”Your little friend is fine.”

Kyra turned and faced the woman who spoke. ”Fine? But she was bleeding to death!”

”It's been taken care of.” The old woman looked like a dragon, her skin wrinkled and scaly, her gaze glinty-eyed and wily.

”How?” Kyra asked, then knew the answer. ”Potions.” Her insides relaxed. ”You must be a potioner.”

The woman nodded. ”I'm Nadya.” She handed a steaming mug to Kyra, and the honey smell intensified. ”Drink this, and I'll get her for you.”

The liquid was warm and sweet and filled her with a delicious buzzing. Kyra felt a dull shock when she realized she was actually too worn out to work out what potions could have been put in it. She just didn't care.

The woman came around with a bundled-up Rosie. ”She needs sleep after the healing she's had.”

Kyra hugged the bundle close and was completely embarra.s.sed when two tears plopped down on the sleeping pig. She brushed her eyes with one hand as Rosie snuggled in with a contented grunt. ”Thank you so much. I thought I'd lost her.”

The woman's amber eyes met Kyra's olive ones. ”It was my pleasure.”

Then, the pig clasped against her chest, Kyra fell back into a deep sleep.

Kyra woke the next morning with a feeling of panic running through her-she needed to set off again immediately. She turned over and discovered Nadya working at a table across the room, mixing up a brew that smelled of mint and lavender.