Once we reached Farminster, we bade farewell to Lanny and after reprovisioning, we set off inland. Ashton's family lived deep inside Chaingad Forest, and it would be a hard few days' ride before we reached the heart of dark elf territory.
I had mixed feelings about this leg of the journey, but the first few days, at least, were pleasant enough. It was only when we reached the edge of the forest that I felt the first stirrings of unease. The queen had a long memory, and if she recognised me for who I truly was, then the game would be up. I doubted the rest of the party knew who I was, but I didn't want the truth to come out in a fashion I couldn't control.
That was solved when Ashton took us to a small cottage a mile or so inside the forest's boundaries. It was dark and dim, with thick moss clinging to the trees, mantling them in shades of drab grey and green. The ground was mossy and damp underfoot, squelching unpleasantly in places, and poisonous mushrooms seemed to sprout everywhere.
By contrast, Ashton's cottage was cheery and bright, and we all felt better once the horses were fed and stabled. Peyton came in with us, however, which I didn't find unusual. What did set me on edge were the dark grey cloaks Ashton laid out as the rest of us sat and rested from our ride. "Wraith cloaks," Paradox confirmed. "Makes you look like a dark elf - doesn't hold up around real dark elves, but works enough to fool those not inclined to look too closely."
I shook my head. "These cloaks were soaked in the blood of the family Ashton killed the day he fled his home," I corrected. "To any dark elf, it will be as if they've come back to life, and given their beliefs about the afterlife and resurrection, they'll be too stunned to question us by the time we stand before Queen Zocerth."
Ashton gave me a brief smile. "You know your family history," he said. "Yes, these were the cloaks my family wore the day I escaped from prison for being a heretic. The blood has long since soaked into them, so to the eyes of my people, you'll be my family. Queen Zocerth will recognise us for who we are, but even Prince Khithran will be fooled into thinking my long dead family members will have come back. Once we get past him, I'll do the talking to the queen. The rest of you need to keep silent." He paused and looked at me. "You, especially, will need to keep your mouth shut."
I nodded, knowing in that moment he knew who I truly was, and was neither pleased nor displeased with the knowledge. "I shall be on my best behaviour," I said.
Peyton and Temara were to remain behind. "I've no cloaks to cover you," Ashton said regretfully, "and the weight of them would be too much for either of you to bear. There's enough food for you to keep going - the vegetable patch out the back is in full bearing, and there's plenty in the cellar. I can't imagine we'll be gone for more than a day or two, but if we're not back at sundown in three days' time, assume the worst and get yourselves out of here. Turn the horses loose; I won't have them being used in a hunt or worse, and they'll make their way back to safe pasture wherever their hooves carry them."
Neither Peyton nor Temara were pleased with this, but they didn't argue, accepting their charge less than gracefully, but understanding the grim necessity all the same. Lanlanor then spoke up. "Send Peyton in my stead," he said, fingering one of the cloaks with distaste. "I'm only half-elven, but my skin is crawling with being so near the blood of my dark cousins. Peyton can pass as a pack-horse well enough in this forest."
Ashton opened his mouth then shut it again. "Very well," he said. "Peyton, I hope you don't mind. Pack-horses are not common, but some of my people will use one from time to time. The colouring doesn't matter, so you'll blend in. But you'll need to keep your mouth shut as well."
Peyton shook out his mane. "Of course," he said. "I know when to speak and when to be silent."
Ashton nodded, then looked at those of us who'd be going. "The queen is in residence tonight," he said. "We'll start in an hour, and we should be there by sundown. If we're challenged, the cloaks will bestow the memories of each slain family member on you, and you will be able to answer in the dark elf tongue. Don't fret if you find your head filled with strange memories, or your tongue produces words you don't understand. You'll get by just fine; let instinct take over and don't think too much about the process. The magic in these cloaks isn't infallible - if you find yourself thinking about how they work, you'll negate the blood price, and we're all going to be in trouble."
Paradox, Ailsa and myself nodded solemnly. "Our word as given, we put our lives in your hands," Paradox said, almost as if reciting an oath. Ailsa and I echoed him, and some of the tension left Ashton.
"My word as given, I won't fail you," he said. "Right. Rest your feet. It's going to be a long walk, and I want to reach the queen's court by sundown. Any later, and the cloaks' magic will become susceptible to the Nightlily. Nothing gets by them, and if they're on guard by the time arrive, it'll all be over."
I wasn't the only one who shivered at the mention of the Nightlily, and I welcomed Temara's familar warmth on my shoulder as we settled in for our rest before the foray. I felt both relieved and saddened that Ashton knew who I was; relieved that he wasn't mad at me, but saddened he had to expend his magic to make sure I was safe. I hated relying on him so, but I knew he felt there was good in me to outweigh my nefarious design. And the more he and Temara believed in me, the more I wanted to believe in myself.
I was certainly growing less and less fond of my plan, and the more time I spent in the company of these unexpected friends, the more I hated the person I'd been previously.
Turning the weapon on myself would be immensely satisfying, if only to remove my unwanted presence from the surface of the earth.
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