Two days later, the hills grew drier and the air thicker.
The road that once curved gently now pressed forward like a spine of old stones cracked in parts and thick with dust.
Vinea travelled light, only ten knights at her side. Ygrenne, quiet as ordered, sharp as a blade. Their horses trotted without hurry, but never lazily. Vinea didn't like silence for too long. Silence on the road this far south made her wary.
Birdsong had faded into a dull hum of insects and wind. Even that began to disappear around noon, as they crested a low ridge and spotted movement down the slope.
Two riders.
Both dismounted, taking a break near a stream.
Vinea didn't slow.
Only when she came within thirty strides did one man raise his hand casually, palm out, fingers relaxed. It was a greeting, not a warning.
"I thought you looked familiar, dear princess," the younger man said.
Simon.
