Chapter 6

Valley of the Shadow

I Did It For Love by The Lone Below

Angerona Hereclea

The Year of our Lord 3051

LUBOV: “I’m quite sure there wasn’t anything at all funny.

You oughtn’t to go and see plays, you ought to go and look at yourself.

What a grey life you lead, what a lot you talk unnecessarily.”

― Антон Чехов, The Cherry Orchard

It was the middle of autumn. Dolores’s choice of clothes, a lightweight linen shirt and loose-fitting pants tucked into breathable boots, had confused Sol. But when she stepped onto the terrace and felt the warm sun on her skin, she understood the practicality of the outfit choice.

“How can you stand this?” Sol wiped the sweat already beading on her brow.

“If you think it’s bad now,” Octavia replied, seemingly unfazed. “Just wait until Midsummer.”

Sleipnir stood tossing his head and nipping at the unfortunate stablehand holding him. His thick, black mane and tail were combed and braided. “You can let him go. He won’t go anywhere,” Sol said as she ran her hands over his soft coat, shining in the afternoon sun. The stableboy let go without hesitation, stumbling back several steps while he rubbed his sore shoulder. Sol gave the beast a light slap on the shoulder before swinging a leg over his back. Her side twinged with the movement, but compared to the pain of the last few days, it felt like nothing. The horse’s familiar warmth was a reminder that she wasn’t alone. Neither the heat nor the pain could dampen her spirits at being reunited with her horse.

Octavia mounted her flaxen mare, and the two women rode out the gates. Guards bounced ahead with more following behind as they followed the road into a sparse forest. Tall trees cast bits of shade overhead.

Octavia glanced at Sol, keeping her voice low. “I know this is a terrible time for you to attend a celebration. But Mother and Father wish to keep the pretense of your visit quiet.”

When Sol looked back at the Princess, her gaze was fixed between her horse’s ears. “Do you know why?”

“Well, first of all, no one knows if you’re telling the truth.”

Sol stared at her.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Octavia exclaimed, shooting a pleading look at Sol. “Of course, I believe you! We’re friends now, and I know you’d never lie to me. They simply don’t want to accuse our allies and start a continental war without knowing the full story. Surely, you can understand that. So, for now, everyone believes you’re here to celebrate Fontanalia and possibly take an interest in one of the Lord’s sons.”

Sol wrinkled her nose. “I’m not interested in marrying one of your nobles.”

“Of course not; they’re all terribly dreadful. I suspect I will have to find a husband overseas. But Father and Mother had to give them something to bicker over, so they wouldn’t ask too many questions. They’ll all be so busy pushing their odious sons on you that they won’t think twice about how you arrived unannounced and without any of your soldiers.” Octavia giggled, clasping her hands beneath her chin as if it was all terribly good fun. Tossing her hair over one shoulder, she grinned at Sol. Golden light cut through her onyx waves, highlighting the contours of her deceptively beautiful face.

The idea of socializing with frivolous nobility and dancing with their revolting sons while her family was being tortured or killed had Sol’s breakfast threatening to make a reappearance.

The look on Sol’s face must have amused Octavia because she laughed even more loudly. She reached across their horses to give Sol’s hand a light squeeze. “I know it seems abhorrent amid everything happening, but it’s just for one night…to buy us time to figure out what’s happening. Your family will understand.”