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Back The Beholder Save as PDF
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. About the Author
  62. Books by Anna Bright
  63. Back Ad
  64. About the Publisher

—Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

17

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WINCHESTER, ENGLAND: WINCHESTER CASTLE

We beheld land the next day. The sight was like an arrow through my stomach.

I was in my room packing a trunk when he knocked on my open doorframe. Lang.

I sat back on my heels. “What can I do for you, Captain?”

He shrugged and sat down on the chair beside my bed. “I wanted to look through the folder Perrault gave you.”

I stopped folding a dress, startled. “My suitors’ profiles?”

Lang nodded. “Perrault seems to forget that I’m leading this expedition. He has an odd talent for somehow avoiding my questions by pretending I haven’t asked any.”

I pressed my lips together, reached into one of my trunks, and passed Lang my folder. He was kind enough to pretend not to notice my hands were shaking.

Lang flipped through the pages as I sorted through boots and gowns and a jewelry box full of things of my mother’s. “Twenty-seven is way too old for you,” he blurted suddenly, dark head jerking up.

“The Yotne prince?” I asked.

Lang nodded, mouth twisted in distaste. I folded a sweater.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said quietly. “With any luck, I’ll never see him.”

“What do you mean?” Lang frowned. “Selah, you have to. It’s an official stop on your tour.”

“I know. But, Lang, I can’t,” I said, suddenly fretful. “I’ll choose one of the first two, or bypass that stop and go straight to Páfos, or—”

“How do you think this ship will get to Páfos without passing through Imperiya territory, once we’re in Europe?” Lang asked. “Do you think there are wheels on the hull you’ve somehow missed that’ll just carry us over land?”

“I don’t know,” I bit out. “But, Lang, I can’t go there. I have to figure out something else.”

When Baba Yaga locks the door,

Children pass thereby no more.

I couldn’t bring myself to recite the stupid nursery rhyme. It had chased itself, singing through my head, too often lately.

Worse yet, it had begun to feel too little like a nursery rhyme. Too little like a story in a book. Too much like reality, growing closer every moment.

“I know,” Lang said quietly. “I know.”

I resumed folding my clothes. Silence stretched out between us, tense and uncomfortable.

Lang cleared his throat and picked up another paper. “Why isn’t there a portrait for this one?”

One of my calluses snagged a beaded dress. I winced. “Which one?”

“England. There are portraits for three of them— Oh, no, wait. Here it is.”

I glanced over, wondering how I’d overlooked it, and lunged at him when a flash of magenta in the folder caught my eye.

“What are you—” Lang lurched back, eyes wide beneath his lashes. A second before my fingers could close around the thick paper, he realized what it was.