It was important, Jacinta knew, not to hurry. Even though she wanted to send her horse running ragged down the paths until she was as far away from the palace as possible, she knew not to. It would only draw attention to herself. Gunnar had spent so much effort to smuggle them both from the inner walls that it would be a waste to make herself obvious now.

With her hood blocking some of her vision she had to turn slightly to look over to Gunnar, his guard uniform and bright, proud tabard gone. He looked much smaller without it. He looked much smaller in general, his grief and disbelief weighing his shoulders down as he rode on his own steed beside her.

“We will solve this,” She assured him. “Please believe me.”

Gunnar blinked, taking a short breath as he came back to the present.

“I believe that your convictions are…” He trailed off. It was as if a part of him had ceased to function. That he was so uncertain of everything now that even finishing a sentence was a great effort.

With a small frown, Jacinta returned to looking back on the road ahead.

“I understand your misgivings but I know grandmother was right.” She paused as Gunnar snorted a little through his nose, unable to hold it back.

“Either way, it will get us away from here. Get you away from danger.”

Danger. It was an outrage to Jacinta. Her knuckles turned white for a moment as she clutched at the reigns. The only danger back there was being stabbed in the back. It was through no fault of her own, none that she could see at any rate.

It had come on so sudden and with such casual cruelty that she felt the white hot indignity of it flare in her chest. To be blamed so quickly, and for the others to accept it with the same swiftness. How long had they been holding on to these feelings? These grudges.

Jacinta raised her head again, refusing to be bowed by such arrogant swine. It wouldn’t matter for much longer. She had a way to solve this. Her grandmother had taught her how. How in her grandmother’s country they had often sought help for problems bigger than themselves.

At a price.

That cost seemed irrelevant to Jacinta in the face of her current situation.

There was a ghost of a thought that someone else might help her, but their price would be complicated. Layered behind politicking and mistrust, and she’d had enough of that. Instead she looked towards the sloping hills ahead, eyes scanning the horizon for the stones she needed.

It took more time than she would have liked to find them. If Gunnar had questions about what they were doing there, walking the horses through close-grown pines, he didn’t raise them. He barely said anything until they walked into the clearing. With the forest so dense around them it was like taking a deep breath after being pressed tight.

In the intimate space Jacinta counted the stones. Seven. Perfect. All a little taller than her and fat at the bottom, thinning to a rounded point at the top. It reminded her of the rats she saw in the stables sometimes, sitting up on their hind legs scenting the air for danger.

“I’ve never known a place like this. What is it?” Gunnar kept himself and the horses back from the circle. His uncertainty made the horses wary, they pawed and sniffed the ground searching for something nice to eat instead of the stiff blanket of pine needles.

“It’s a ring. It doesn’t matter why it was placed here, it’s still good enough for my purposes.” She smiled at Gunnar as she pulled out the hastily packed books and chalk from the saddlebags on her horse. She took a small amount of pleasure in feeling knowledgeable for once.

Usually it was Gunnar or her tutors wagging fingers and giving lectures, but now she had the upper hand. She flipped open her book. It had belonged to her grandmother and was wrapped in well worn, well loved leather. It was written in her grandmother’s tongue, a language she had been forbidden to speak but she had learned to read and write it regardless.

After all, that wasn’t speaking it.

The chalk was applied to the stones in slow, languid arcs that seemed random to Gunnar. He watched this display of artistry with a weary concern. He made no move to stop her, after all she must have been grieving as well in her own strange way. Writing on stones wouldn’t do anyone any harm.

Gunnar watched as Jacinta finished her work and began to search through the pages of the book in her hands. Then quite suddenly she began speaking. The words were slow and halting at first, they had only been heard from her grandmother after all and since her passing only read on paper. Then they began to form more easily. One after another in a tumbling rush, like water breaking from a dam, forceful and unstoppable.

When Jacinta stopped speaking, she held her breath. Her eyes wide and darting as she watched the stones, anticipating something. Anything. She almost screamed when a voice cut through the heavy silence behind them both.

“How strange.” A figure stood there, holding his hands clasped in front of him in a polite fashion as if someone had just shown him an oddity he was obliged to at least observe before dismissing. His clothes were the same colour as the dark pines surrounding them, but his hair was pitch black and poker straight.

Jacinta would have mistaken him for one of her grandmother’s countrymen if it weren’t for his pale skin. It almost looked carved, as if he was made from slightly luminescent marble. His features were equally as unreadable and stoic.

“Explain yourself!” Gunnar’s hand left the reigns and went to the hilt of his blade after the shock had worn thin. He took two steps to put himself between Jacinta and the intruder.

“I believe that is my question for you.” the intruder replied, his eyes travelling around to the stones and then past Gunnar to Jacinta. “I was summoned.”

“What nonsense…” Gunnar trailed off and then glanced back to Jacinta, loathe to take his eyes away from potential danger. But the man seemed unarmed.

“Yes! Yes I summoned you!” Jacinta beamed, finally remembering to breathe as she felt the heady rush of air combined with visceral relief that something had gone right. “My grandmother, Caetana, you owe her a debt.”

“I see.” The intruder placed an elegant hand against his chest, “I am Teague, and I do owe Caetana a great debt, but she is not present so…I shall depart.”

“No!” Jacinta pushed past Gunnar and brandished the book at him as if it were a weapon, “No you can’t leave! It says you can’t leave.”

“Girl.” His voice was slow and considered, as if speaking to a child. “I do not owe you anything, so this conversation is over.”

“Magnus is dead.”

The words were spoken by Jacinta but she felt as if someone else had said them, and struck her with them. She didn’t dare repeat them. To say it too often would make it true. There wasn’t time to grieve yet, it wasn’t safe and settled.

Teague tilted his head slightly, observing the other two with a bird like curiosity. His stillness was unnerving. When his silence continued Jacinta took a great gulp of air and pressed on.

“It would clear your debt with Caetana if you discovered who had killed him. Then it-it would all be wiped away. No one would bother you again.” She was uncertain if that was how it worked, even as she said it. Another silence stretched out between them as Teague considered this offer. His hands lay against one another thoughtfully, his fingers sliding against one another when he had come to a decision.

“I can agree to these terms.” He said with a note of finality.

Jacinta grasped at Gunnar’s arm and shook it, unable to contain her joy. Gunnar’s concern turned to awkward staring until Jacinta took notice.

“Good! You will come to us back to the palace. We will introduce you as…as a friend of my grandmothers, here to pay your respects.”

“An interesting lie.” Teague paused then tilted his head again, “Why would I not come pay my respects on Caetana’s own death?”

Jacinta scoffed, already walking back to her horse and leaving Gunnar standing there wondering exactly what was going on. Still too weary to question too much, the situation was clearly very far out of his grasp.

“You are a foreigner. Clearly.” Jacinta gestured back to Teague who glanced down at himself then back to Gunnar and Jacinta in turn. It was true that he was obviously an outsider. Where Gunnar was ruddy skinned and his auburn hair, already greying at the temples, Teague was a stark contrast of black hair and pale skin.

“Foreigners do strange things.” Jacinta elaborated, taking hold of her horse’s reins and staring expectantly back at the other two men. “You will have to use that to press your advantage at the palace. Find out what we cannot. The court will not concern itself with my father’s death, only his successor. It is up to us to discover what we can, so my heart can be at ease.”

Teague broke into a rich, lilting laughter. It was quite sudden, a cloudburst of spring rain on a bright day, shining and bright and gone just as quickly.

“I am to be your spy? How delightful.” He tried to walk beside Jacinta, to keep pace with her while she walked her horse from the tight knit pines, but Gunnar shoved his way between them. Teague said nothing but smiled. An act Gunnar did not take as friendly. There were far too many teeth on display for that.

As Teague fell back behind them, following at more of a distance, Jacinta considered the dangers of the offer she had made. This creature, whatever he was, wasn’t entirely known to her. Her grandmother’s writing had been very specific about the rules and consequences but not what he actually was.

“Oh! Gunnar, this is very important so please listen closely.” Jacinta did her best to give Gunnar a stern look, brows furrowing. “Do not thank Teague for anything. Do not incur his debt in any way. Or at least don’t acknowledge it. Understand?”

Gunnar gave her a strange look, a sharp glance behind his shoulder to the tall figure behind them, “I confess I do not. But I will do as you say.”

Next