Free Quest Maker by Laurie McKay

in clouds. Caden was grateful. Not seeing the moonlight kept the curse further from his mind, and there were more important matters tonight.
    â€œCaden?” said a hushed voice near the metal waterfall.
    Caden squinted. “Jane?” He walked to her. As he got closer, he saw she wore her sweatshirt and sweatpants. In her hand, she held a bunch of flowering weeds. “Why are you collecting weeds in the dark?”
    Jane looked to the hills and shrugged. “My mom liked wildflowers. She liked the spring and the night,” she said. “Sometimes I just like to collect them.”
    â€œTo honor her?” Caden said.
    â€œTo remember her,” Jane said. She was quiet for a moment. “Why are you out here?”
    The rigging dagger felt heavy in his coat pocket. He looked down at the flowers in her hands. It seemed they were outside for similar reasons. “To remember my brother Chadwin.” He fidgeted. “I have to bury something for him.” He blurted out the next part. “The dagger that killed him.”
    He hadn’t intended to say that. Jane looked shocked. Caden felt shocked. He looked away.
    After a moment, Jane said, “Where are you going to bury it?”
    He looked back at her. “I’ll call for Sir Horace. He and I will find a place.”
    In Caden’s royal opinion, this was one of the more awkward conversations he’d had. He kicked at the grass. The rigging dagger knocked against his side.
    â€œI’ll come with you,” Jane said.
    Jane didn’t know Chadwin. And while she and Caden were friends, she wasn’t close to him like she was to Tito and Brynne. Caden blinked at her. “Why?”
    â€œBecause that’s what my mom would have done.”
    Sir Horace showed up soon after Caden whistled for him. His snow-white mane was tousled, and his white-gray coat had a few strands of brown horsehair mixed with it. Caden suspected young foals would be born in Asheville that were part Galvanian stallion and part common brown horse.
    â€œYou must stop romancing mares, Sir Horace,” Cadensaid, but Sir Horace seemed unashamed. Jane reached out and Sir Horace nosed her fingers.
    Soon after, he, Jane, and Sir Horace trotted up the dark mountainside.
    He remembered the first time he’d ridden at night. He’d been ten. That night the stars had shone like white pixie flames. The air was so cold his hands ached in his leather gloves. His enchanted coat was snug and warm around his body; his sword was belted to his back. He couldn’t see beyond his arm’s reach. As they’d cantered up the long trail, Caden had felt Sir Horace twitch, tense with nerves.
    Up ahead and out of sight, Caden’s five oldest brothers led the way. The clip-clop of their mounts echoed in the night. Occasionally, his eldest brother, Valon, would shout an order, or second-born Maden would loose a laugh. He could hear the whisper-soft voices of third-born Lucian and fourth-born Martin, but he couldn’t make out their words. Every few minutes, he’d hear fifth-born Landon sigh.
    His other two brothers, Chadwin and Jasan—the sixth and seventh born—rode in the rear. They, too, were beyond his vision, but they were closer and their quiet words carried on the cold winds.
    â€œWe should ride with Caden.” That was Chadwin.
    â€œI ride enough with Caden,” Jasan answered. “He’s safe between us and the others.”
    â€œIt’s a dark night.” Chadwin’s voice dropped lower.“And he’s new to the Galvanian saddle.”
    At that, Caden bristled. While he was new to the Galvanian saddle, he wasn’t new to riding. And he and Sir Horace had practiced without stop for days on end. He was a competent rider.
    â€œWe trained all last week. He’s good enough,” Jasan said. Caden sat a little straighter. It was rare that Jasan complimented Caden’s abilities. Jasan continued. “And he