His pulse roared in his ears. It all snapped together with brutal clarity.
Alexander stormed down the stairs and sprinted for the stables, already shouting for Duskwane. He rode hard for Lornhelm, dread galloping just behind him. He convinced himself she’d gone to the village, just as she told Yrenna. He’d find her chatting with Ulrik and Annett. Holding baby Aniva, taking her out for some sun. Or maybe taking the long road home, dawdling to collect herbs.
When he reached the square, Ulrik was tending the forge, and Annett was sorting linens with Aniva strapped to her chest outside her door.
“Have you seen Her Highness?” he called, pulling at Duskwane’s reins.
Ulrik shook his head. “Not today.”
Annett squinted up at him. “Perhaps tomorrow, my lord?”
The weight in Alexander’s gut turned to iron. “She said she was coming here.”
They exchanged uncertain glances but could offer nothing else.
He checked with Daan and his mother, and other villagers, but no one had seen JingYi today.
Alexander wheeled Duskwane around and galloped hard for Parandor, wind stinging his face. He’d just reached the bridge when the gates burst open. Darion ran out, waving him down.
“Alexander! Hurry—you need to see this!”
Conrad followed, leading Brisa. The mare was soaked in sweat, but JingYi was nowhere in sight.
Alexander dismounted, crouched beside the horse, and ran a hand down her fetlock. Her hooves were caked in mud—fresh, wet, and red-tinged. It hadn’t rained today, and this dirt was not the dry dust of village roads.
He stood slowly, eyes narrowing toward the west where the old river path lay. Niewberg was too far for her on horseback. She was unfamiliar with the trails. She wouldn’t try it when getting lost in Blackwood-Veyrde’s forests was almost a certainty. But Lowfen Quay lay just a few miles out. She could board a barge heading downriver.
“I’m going to Lowfen.”
Just as he leapt onto Duskwane’s saddle, Tedric rushed forward. “My lord, let me ride with you.”
Alexander glared at him, but the man didn’t flinch. “Better you don’t ride alone. If you need to send a message back, or summon Darion, I swear I’ll be faster than a Sparo.”
Tedric had always been sharp in the saddle and sharper with his tongue. Lately, he’d been the one escorting JingYi to the village—laughing with her, translating the few words that still escaped her in Tremesi. Perhaps he’d grown fond of her, too, the way others did without even realizing it.
He gave a short nod. “Fine. Quickly.”
There was no more time for doubt. Not when the woman he cared about might already be slipping away.
Duskwane surged beneath him as he turned toward the path. Wind tangled his cloak, cold dread building in his chest. He urged the stallion to speed. Every beat of the hooves against packed earth thundered the same refrain.
Let her still be within reach.
Let her still be his.
The docks were nearly empty, save for the gulls wheeling overhead and the stink of old fish and wet rope clinging to the planks. Alexander’s boots struck hard against the boards as he strode toward the port master’s shack, each step driven by the dull roar behind his ribs. Beside him, Tedric kept pace, unusually silent.
The port master looked up from his ledgers. His face paled as recognition dawned.
“Lord Wulfbane,” he stammered, bowing. “I wasn’t expecting?—”
“I’m looking for my wife,” Alexander cut in. “She’s of Xûen origin. Limp in her right leg. A dark birthmark on her left cheek. She would’ve come through earlier. Alone.”
The man swallowed. “No noblewoman came through, my lord, but—” He hesitated, fingers twitching toward a stack ofscrolls. “Therewasa barge carrying grains earlier, pulling in from Xûen. They unloaded quickly and didn’t linger.”
“Where was it headed?”
The man gestured to the ledger on his desk. “It’s all there. One moment?—”