Prince Nera Mossveil's Arc

Chapter 13 of 23

The fawn slept against the kittens by the hearth. Nera counted the hours until dawn and knew the mount and map were not yet his. Glacienne had promised them, but she had also walked out without a word about payment. Angel Frostborne stood in the doorway with his arms folded, watching the ice at the windows. Nera stood up from the hearth. He could not ride out on a debt he had not settled. He crossed the hall to where Angel waited. "Name the price," Nera said. "For the mount. For the map. For the roof over the fawn tonight." Angel did not turn from the window. "Glacienne is not the one you owe. I am. Her house obeys the seat, and the seat is mine again once I take it back." He faced Nera. "I want a written pledge. Your crown will not treat with the advisor who removed me. Not for trade. Not for passage. Not for a cup of water." Nera felt the weight of it settle. A prince's word on paper was a leash. But the herd was scattered, and the forest was thinning while he stood here bargaining. He thought of the fawn's slow pulse under his hand. He thought of the ones still lost. "Ink and paper," he said. "Now." Angel brought both from a side table. Nera wrote it short. He would not receive, host, or trade with the advisor who unseated Angel Frostborne, for as long as Angel pressed his claim. He signed it with his field mark, not the crown seal he had left at the hall. Angel read the page, folded it once, and put it inside his coat. Then he tapped the wall twice. A back door opened. A gray riding beast stood saddled in the yard, breath steaming. A rolled map lay across the horn. Rosalind stepped in from the side hall as Nera pulled his cloak on. "My scout is back," she said. "Atletha reached the goats. Milk before dawn." She paused. "Blazen sent word from his camp. Fire fairies rode the low road tonight. Two dragons in the air over the ridge. They are not hunting you. They are hunting me." Her mouth set. "But they will cross your track before you reach the herd." Nera took the map and swung up. The fawn would ride in a sling at his chest once Atletha returned with the milk. He had the mount. He had the road. He had signed away a piece of his court to get both, and now fire riders moved between him and the scattered herd. He touched the beast's neck and turned it toward the yard gate. One debt paid. A harder road ahead.