They changed horses twice that day. Elen used the first change-off to whisper Xilsi’s information to the haunt. Healthy, well-kept pacers allowed them to make such good time that, in early afternoon, they passed a small Halt at the edge of Pelis Manor territory but continued after a change of horses. The haunt was ruthless in pressing on. At sunset, the Sun Chasers rolled into Norvest Halt. The intendant wasn’t in residence, they were informed by an overawed official, preferring an easterly town by a lake, about half a day’s ride away.

No change of carriage horses was available so, in the morning, they had to proceed with the same teams from yesterday. A pair of riding horses, not yet saddled, had been brought out as well, drawing puzzled looks from the wardens.

The haunt leaped up onto the driver’s seat of the forward carriage, taking the reins before Simo could.

“Your Highness!” Simo protested.

“I’ll drive. The deputy courier may ride with me. Simo, you will drive the other carriage with Jirvy, Luviara, and Kem. Xilsi and Ipis will ride.”

“Ride, Your Highness?”

“They can better guard us from horseback.”

Simo’s mouth twitched as if he disagreed. “Of course, Your Highness. But Ipis is still young, on her first full patrol, and it might be better if she—”

“Is she not trained in bow craft and sword craft?”

“She is, but—”

“Is Jirvy completely healed? His injuries no longer troubling him?”

“Not entirely, but—”

“Therefore, do as I say. Deputy Courier, attend me.”

Elen stowed her pack in the wire frame and climbed up beside him. Before her butt could even touch the bench, he set the horses forward. They were good goers, as Xilsi had said. They rolled through the small Halt’s central street as folk stared at this wonder, a prince driving an open carriage for all to see. A ramp led them up on the road, headed north. Elen looked back to see the other carriage a good ways behind.

“You caught them by surprise.”

He said nothing, his gaze on the horses. The light of the rising sun fell on the side of his face, a sheen that made his complexion gleam like polished bronze. His mouth looked prim, disapproving, but those lips held promise, as if the right words would loosen their tight lines into the mischievous smile that delighted her. She studied his fly-whisk braids, now remarkably neat and tidy, looking quite splendid and noble as they dangled pleasingly past his shoulders, swaying with the motion of the carriage.

“Did someone at Pelis Manor rebraid your hair?”

A hint of color shaded his cheeks. “My scalp was itching. Yet I could have endured even that, until I saw myself in a mirror. I couldn’t bear how flyaway and disorderly everything looked.”

“High Heavens above, that would ill-serve the world for you to be seen one day longer in such a terrible state.”