Free The Runaway King by Jennifer A. Nielsen

own people.
    “Who did this?” I asked.
    She closed her eyes for some time and I thought perhaps she wouldn’t answer. Then she opened them and mumbled, “You can’t be from this area and not know what happens here.”
    “I’m not.”
    She nodded. “Avenian thieves. They cross our borders at night to steal our cattle or frighten us from our homes.”
    I shook my head. “Why doesn’t anyone in Drylliad know this? The king —”
    “Eckbert’s dead. Haven’t you heard? Besides, he knew for months that this was happening.” She arched her back and gasped. I put my hand beneath her to help support her weight and felt the warmth of her blood. There was so much. Too much to survive. Her breathing was becoming more labored. “My husband . . . they killed him. Nila . . . take her to her grandfather’s . . . Libeth.”
    Nila placed her small hand on my shoulder. Libeth was north of here and would set me back several hours. Besides that, I had planned to avoid all towns. There was too great a chance of someone recognizing me, or of leaving a trail in case Mott decided to follow me.
    Nila’s mother rose again and used my arm to hold herself up. “Please,” she whispered.
    “I’ll get her there, I promise.” Even if it meant going backward for me. As if my words gave her release, she finally relaxed, closed her eyes, and was gone.
    Nila knelt beside me and touched her mother’s shoulder. “Is she dead?”
    I nodded as a new anger surged inside me. Had my father known this was happening? Had Gregor, or Kerwyn? Why had no one told me about this?
    “There’s a lilac bush near where I left my horse,” I told Nila. “Pick as many as you can for your mother.”
    Without expression, Nila stood and walked back to Mystic while I dug with my hands and knife into the soft springtime earth for a grave. It took well over an hour to bury Nila’s mother, and after the flowers were laid on her grave, I put Nila behind me on Mystic and we headed for Libeth.
    People were already awake and working in their fields when we reached the outskirts of the town. Libeth was a sleepy place that was protected from Avenia by marshlands that neither country particularly cared to claim. I’d never been anywhere near here before, but I liked the town.
    Nila didn’t know where her grandfather lived, only that he had a big farm and that people paid him from their crops. I had audibly groaned when she told me. It meant he was probably a noble. One of the useless snobs I detested.
    I wondered if he had been in attendance at my family’s funeral. If so, perhaps he was still in Drylliad. I wasn’t sure whether to hope for that or not. Because if he’d already returned to Libeth from the funeral, he was sure to recognize me. But if he was still in Drylliad, what was I supposed to do with Nila?
    A couple of hours earlier, Nila had finally begun acting sleepy, so I put her in front of me where I could prop her with my arms. Now as we entered the small town square, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I remember this place,” she mumbled.
    “Do you know where your grandfather lives?”
    “No.”
    We stopped near a stall where a woman had a variety of meats on display. I glanced at a roast and couldn’t help but think of the time I had tried to steal one and nearly gotten myself killed by the butcher. It hadn’t been my best idea ever. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been my worst either.
    “I am looking for this girl’s grandfather,” I said to the woman in the stall. “I think he’s a —”
    “Nila?” The woman ran from behind her stall and held out her hands for the girl, who fell into her arms. “What are you doing here?” Then her eyes narrowed as she looked at me, covered in dirt and dried blood. “What happened?”
    “Do you know her grandfather?” I asked.
    The woman nodded and pointed to a home that was high up on a hill at the far end of town. “Master Rulon Harlowe is her grandfather.”
    I slid off Mystic and held out my