Rena awoke before first light, roused by a mixture of excitement and dread. A thin pale glow seeped in through the cottage windows, illuminating the bundles of herbs and travel gear stacked near the door. She pushed off her woolen blanket, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. Today was the day she would leave the life she had known—perhaps forever.
She slipped out of bed quietly, trying not to disturb Aunt Sorren sleeping in the adjacent cot. Gareth lay on a pallet near the hearth, breathing evenly. His wound had scabbed over, thanks to her healing and Sorren's careful ministrations, but he still favored his left shoulder when he moved. She half-expected him to be awake already, yet exhaustion must have finally claimed him in the early hours.
Rena washed her face in a basin of cool water and dressed in sturdy trousers and a faded tunic. She considered the pendant resting on the small table by her bed—its tarnished lily and crescent moon design a silent testament to her connection with Silverstrand. She cupped it in her hand, feeling the weight of its significance.
Am I truly ready for this? she wondered, heart fluttering. Over the past day, she had wavered between determination and terror, but this morning felt oddly calm. Resolve settled in her chest. She looped the pendant's cord around her neck, letting it rest over her tunic. It was time.
A rustling behind her made her turn. Aunt Sorren stood, tying her gray hair into a loose braid. Deep lines of worry etched her face, but her eyes held a fierce love. "Couldn't sleep, child?" Sorren asked gently.
Rena gave a small shrug. "Barely. Kept thinking about the road ahead. About—" She broke off, swallowing the sudden surge of emotion.
"Come," Sorren said, her voice warm. "Let's prepare breakfast. You'll need a full belly for the journey."
Together, they moved about the modest kitchen. Sorren set a pot of water to boil, then added dried bits of mushrooms and herbs. Rena sliced stale bread, toasting it over the embers. The comforting scents of simmering broth and woodsmoke filled the room. Before long, Gareth stirred, pushing himself up on his elbows with a wince. He managed a tired grin.
"Morning already?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Feels like I just closed them."
Sorren brought him a bowl of the simple soup and a slice of toasted bread. "We'll need to set out soon. Did you get enough rest?"
"Enough," Gareth replied, though he sounded a bit hoarse. He carefully rotated his injured shoulder, testing its range. "I can ride. I won't slow us down."
Rena studied him with concern. "If you need a few more hours—"
He raised a hand, cutting her off gently. "Truly, I'm fine. The fate of the kingdom won't wait for my beauty sleep. Besides, the sooner we reach Silverstrand, the less chance Severin's men have to intercept us." He looked pointedly at Rena, his tone softening. "And the sooner we can confirm your heritage."
Rena's stomach clenched. She tore her bread into small pieces, nibbling distractedly. Aunt Sorren placed a comforting hand on her back, then gestured toward the door. "Eat quickly. I'll fetch the horses."
They finished their meager meal in silence. Sorren had managed to borrow two stout horses from a nearby farmer—a bay mare for Gareth, a calm chestnut gelding for Rena. Sorren herself didn't usually keep a horse, as the dense forest trails were easier to navigate on foot. Now, she led the animals into the clearing just outside the cottage fence.
Rena stepped into the early dawn light, blinking as the air turned the sky a delicate pink at the horizon. The chestnut flicked its ears at her approach. She placed a gentle hand on its muzzle, murmuring reassurances. She'd ridden a handful of times, though never far beyond the nearest villages. This journey would be longer and far more perilous.
Gareth swung up onto the bay with only a slight hitch, doing his best to hide his discomfort. He tested the reins, giving Rena a small nod of encouragement.
Meanwhile, Aunt Sorren bustled around, double-checking saddlebags. "I've packed you plenty of herbs—salves, feverfew, antiseptics. Use them sparingly; you don't know how many injuries you might have to treat on the road."
Rena managed a wavering smile. "You always taught me well. I'll keep them safe." She glanced at the small cottage that had been her entire world. The wooden walls, the herb garden, the familiar squeak of the front door—each detail tugged at her heart. For a moment, she wondered if she'd ever be back.
Aunt Sorren turned to Gareth. "I trust you to look after her. She's capable, but this is all new to her."
Gareth nodded seriously. "I will. And thank you… for everything. Without your care, I wouldn't be alive to make this journey."
Sorren gave him a kind, if subdued, smile. Then, she turned to Rena. For a few heartbeats, neither spoke. Sorren opened her arms, and Rena rushed into them, burying her face against her aunt's familiar warmth.
"You'll do fine," Sorren whispered, voice thick. "Don't let anyone intimidate you into hiding your gift. Your kindness is your strength—remember that."
Tears pricked Rena's eyes. She clung to Sorren for another moment, then stepped back. With a trembling breath, she hoisted herself onto the chestnut's saddle. The horse shifted, sensing her slight nervousness, but quickly settled under her soft murmur.
She looked down at Sorren one last time, a wave of gratitude surging through her. "I'll come back," she said. "I promise."
Aunt Sorren's eyes glistened, but she nodded. "Go on, then. May the forest guide your steps—and keep you safe."
The morning sun sat just above the treetops when they set off, hooves thudding softly against the dirt path. Whisperwood's shadows draped the winding trail in half-light, cool and quiet except for the occasional birdcall. Rena felt a strange ache in her chest as the cottage disappeared behind them, replaced by towering trunks and rustling leaves. The forest had always embraced her, but now each step carried her further into the unknown.
Gareth rode beside her, occasionally giving directions. His instructions were based on notes from his original mission: the fastest route to the capital city of Silverstrand, the towns where they might find lodgings, and the roads to avoid because of bandit activity. Every so often, he cast her an encouraging glance. She tried to smile back, though a tangle of doubts still warred in her mind.
They emerged from Whisperwood's dense heart by mid-morning. The trees thinned, and open farmland stretched before them—rolling hills dotted with grazing livestock. A lone farmhouse stood in the distance, smoke curling from its chimney. Rena found herself oddly relieved by the sight of other people's dwellings. She'd grown up with only the forest for company, but the world seemed much vaster and busier beyond its borders.
"You doing all right?" Gareth asked, reining in his horse so they could ride side by side.
Rena nodded, taking a steadying breath. "Yes. It's just… everything looks so different out here."
He followed her gaze across the fields. "Silverstrand is diverse. You'll see farmland, small villages, and eventually the city walls. It's a lot to take in if you've never traveled."
She thought of Aunt Sorren, of how the older woman used to mention "the grand city" in passing, but never in detail. She also recalled the ominous tales of bandits and the rumored unrest that plagued the kingdom. Her fingers curled around the reins. "Gareth, do you really think it will be enough? My showing up, I mean. Even if King Darius recognizes me, that might not stop Severin."
His brow furrowed. "Stopping him outright might be difficult, but your appearance changes the political landscape. Many nobles still revere tradition and royal blood. If the princess is found alive, they'll hesitate to side with a usurper—no matter how powerful. At the very least, it buys King Darius time to rally loyalists."
Rena nodded, trying to let that assurance calm her nerves. She thought of the pendent around her neck, the ring hidden in her pouch—tokens of a life she'd never known. It was hard to picture herself standing in a throne room or wearing a crown. Would the king and queen accept her so readily? Or would they resent the daughter who'd vanished without explanation?
They trotted on, passing a handful of villagers leading donkeys loaded with sacks of grain. The villagers gave polite nods, occasionally eying Rena's silver hair with curiosity. No one recognized her, of course—how could they? She was no one's princess in their eyes, just a stranger on horseback.
Near midday, the road widened, joining with a trade route that led directly toward Silverstrand. More wagons and travelers appeared, from peddlers selling cheap trinkets to a band of minstrels in gaudy outfits, strolling along with lutes slung over their shoulders. Children darted between adults, laughing and squabbling, oblivious to the tensions brewing in the kingdom's higher circles.
As they rode, Gareth lowered his voice. "Severin might have spies on these roads. Keep your hood up if you can, just in case."
Rena pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, tucking away her distinctive hair. She felt a twinge of unease. Any moment, a shadowy figure could emerge from the crowd, alerting some far-reaching network of the steward's men. She remembered the desperation in Gareth's voice when he'd described Lord Severin's iron grip on the kingdom's resources. A man like that wouldn't welcome news of the lost princess's return.
They pressed on for a couple of hours, eventually stopping by a shallow creek to water the horses and eat a simple meal of dried fruit and bread. Rena stretched her legs, glad for the break from the saddle's constant jostling. Gareth used the moment to check his shoulder dressing, wincing as he gingerly pulled the bandage aside.
"Let me see," Rena offered. He nodded, removing his tunic enough to expose the wound. Though the skin around it was still bruised and tender, the gash itself had closed nicely, and no infection was visible. Rena placed a hand near the wound, letting the gentle warmth of her healing gift flow. Though her powers were modest compared to the legends swirling about her, she could at least ease his pain.
Gareth exhaled in relief. "You really do have a gift," he murmured. "Not just in healing, but in how you care. No wonder Aunt Sorren knew you'd be a force for good."
Rena blushed at the praise, pulling her hand away once the glow subsided. "I'm just helping. Anyone would do the same."
He cracked a small smile. "I'm not so sure that's true. But I'm grateful."
They packed up and resumed their journey. Ahead, the road curved around a gentle hillside, and beyond it—still a distant shimmer—rose the faint outline of Silverstrand's city walls. Rena's heart fluttered at the sight. Those imposing battlements seemed to beckon her, promising answers while also warning of perils unknown.
Dusk wasn't far off when they decided to stop at a modest roadside inn perched near a crossroad. A wooden sign creaked in the breeze, depicting a faded crest of a sun and wheat sheaves—The Harvest's Rest. Smoke curled lazily from a stone chimney, and the smell of stew drifted on the evening air.
"We'll stay here tonight," Gareth said, dismounting slowly. "Approaching the city after dark wouldn't be wise, and the horses need rest."
Rena nodded, sliding down from her saddle. Her back and thighs ached from hours of riding, and the prospect of a meal and a real bed sounded glorious—though she wondered if she'd be able to sleep with so many thoughts swirling in her head. She handed the reins to a stablehand, who blinked curiously at her hooded figure but said nothing.
In the glow of lanterns, she and Gareth entered the inn's common area. It was busy with travelers—merchants, a few off-duty guards, and what appeared to be a traveling minstrel trio setting up in a corner. Low chatter filled the space, and the scents of spiced ale and roasted turnips made Rena's mouth water.
They found a small table near the hearth. Gareth ordered a simple meal and two rooms for the night, paying with a few silver coins from his pouch. As they waited for their food, Rena scanned the room, half-expecting to see a shadowy figure watching them. No one paid them more than a passing glance.
"We'll reach Silverstrand by midday tomorrow," Gareth said quietly, leaning in so she could hear him over the din. "Are you ready?"
Rena considered the question, her hand instinctively touching the pendant beneath her cloak. Am I? She pictured the king and queen, strangers who might be her parents. She pictured court halls, curious nobles, the looming threat of Severin—and her own uncertain future.
She inhaled, centering herself. "As ready as I'll ever be," she finally replied, summoning what courage she could. "Let's just hope we're not too late."
Gareth nodded, sympathy and resolve mingling in his eyes. "Tomorrow, then."
They sat back as the innkeeper brought steaming bowls of stew and a small loaf of fresh bread. The fire crackled, the minstrel trio began a lively tune, and Rena allowed herself a moment of solace in the warmth of the hearth. But deep down, she knew dawn would bring the final stretch of their journey—a journey that would change her life and, perhaps, the destiny of Silverstrand forever.