The Prince's Mark

Chapter Twenty Four

Tracou hated the cold.

It was only early autumn and Winlea was already uncomfortably cold. This, paired with the bumpy roads and unfamiliar plants, made getting through Winlea a challenge. But the most trying part of Winlea was the people. Winleans were taciturn. If people were willing to speak at all, they opted to ignore Tracou and Pendaer and deferred to Ina. This didn't make searching for Mirthal any easier.

Unlike the humans from Aodehn or the Zeibr territories who had usually seen dezmek before, the Winleans acted like they never had. They didn't want to talk to Tracou or get particularly close to him, but they had no qualms with gawking at him. Dezmek didn't enjoy the cold and, considering the increasing skirmishes in the ocean between Dezmerian and Winlean ships, it was likely that a dezmek hadn't stepped foot in Winlea in years.

How Winleans treated Pendaer was another story.

Initially they had treated him similarly to Tracou—a novelty. But, as they closed in on the capital, things changed.

Seeing children spit at Pendaer's feet was amusing at first. The scandalized look on his face had been wonderful and Tracou would savor the memory as long as he lived. But that was one of the milder things people did. In one village, a group of elderly people hurled rotting food at Pendaer. In another, a man stalked over to Pendaer and socked him under the chin. The impact sent Pendaer reeling. Had Ina not gotten in between Pendaer and the man to stop Pendaer from retaliating, Tracou was certain that the rest of the village would have descended upon them.

That was the end of visiting villages in Winlea.

"If the prince is anywhere, he's in the capital," Pendaer had said through his teeth.

No one argued with him.

Thankfully, it only took another day for them to reach Dorssur after that.

As the city, a beige mass on a hill, came into view in the early evening, the horses slowed. The closer they were to Dorssur, the slower they moved until they came to a full stop about about half a mile away from the city.

Tracou and Ina exchanged a look.

"Why are we stopping?" Ina asked.

Pendaer took in a deep breath, held it, and let it out in a lengthy exhale. He then got off his horse.

"There are sentries," he said, walking to the back of the wagon. "I doubt they'll let us in if they see me."

Pendaer's pointed ears shot out from either side of his head, making what he was obvious at a distance. If they couldn't stay in villages with an elf, how were they going to navigate a city?

And what about Mirthal? If the guards here wouldn't let Pendaer through, it seemed unlikely that Mirthal would have slipped in.

"Can't you pull a hat over your ears? Or wrap a cloth around your head?" Ina asked.

With a scoff, Pendaer shook his head. "No, both of those would hurt."

"Wouldn't it be easier to find Mirthal if you tried to blend in? You're supposed to be his retainer," Tracou said.

This silenced Pendaer for a moment as he considered this, but he soon waved his hand.

"If I'm not at my best I won't be able to find him."

"You're not going to find anything if you're hiding in the wagon."

"We definitely won't find him if we don't get moving," Ina said. "Who's going to direct the horses?"