Gregory awoke to sunlight streaming through the curtains, momentarily disoriented by the soft mattress beneath him. After weeks of sleeping on hard ground, the luxury of a proper bed had rendered him nearly unconscious with comfort. He stretched, savoring the sensation, before becoming aware of a presence in the room.
Bryce sat in a chair by the window, already dressed and alert. The prince had an intensity about him this morning, a restless energy that suggested he'd been awake for hours.
"Good morning, Your Highness," Gregory mumbled, pushing himself upright. "How long have you been sitting there?"
"Not long," Bryce replied, though the shadows under his eyes suggested otherwise. "I've been thinking about our next steps."
Gregory swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "And? Have you devised a brilliant strategy to reclaim your throne?"
"I've realized we need people we can trust absolutely," Bryce said, ignoring Gregory's sarcasm. "Lord Halvorn and his son are loyal, but they're known figures at court. Their movements will be watched."
"Makes sense," Gregory acknowledged, reaching for his shirt. "So we need allies who aren't already on your mother's radar."
Bryce nodded, his expression brightening slightly. "There's someone—a woman I grew up with. Abigail. She was the daughter of the royal falconer, and we were inseparable as children."
"A childhood friend?" Gregory raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure she's lovely, but how does she help us navigate court politics?"
"She's not at court," Bryce explained. "She left the capital years ago, after her father died. She serves as a Ranger now, patrolling the western territories."
Gregory paused in the midst of pulling on his boots. "A Ranger? Those wilderness scouts who track criminals and map the borderlands?"
"Precisely. They operate largely independently of the crown, reporting to their own commander. And Abigail was the most skilled tracker I've ever known, even as a child." Bryce leaned forward, his eyes intense. "More importantly, I trust her with my life. She has no political ambitions, no ties to any faction at court."
"Alright," Gregory conceded. "So we find this Ranger. Then what?"
"She has connections throughout the kingdom that aren't tied to court circles. People who might help us gather evidence, move undetected, perhaps even reach my father without the queen's knowledge."
Gregory considered this. The plan had merit. An outsider with specialized skills could prove invaluable in navigating the treacherous waters they found themselves in.
"Where do we find her?" he asked.
Bryce's expression grew slightly sheepish. "That's where it gets complicated. She patrols a large territory. My best guess is she's either in Huster—that's a trading post about three days' ride west—or a mountain village called Vertis, further into the highlands."
Gregory frowned. "You want us to leave the capital? Just when we've arrived?"
"Not us," Bryce said quietly. "Just you."
"Me?" Gregory stared at the prince in disbelief. "You want me to go gallivanting across the countryside looking for your childhood friend while you do what exactly?"
"I need to stay here, to begin making discreet contact with potential allies at court," Bryce explained. "Lord Halvorn has arranged for a secure meeting with Chancellor Merek tomorrow night. If I can convince him of my identity, he could help pave the way for my return."
"And you're sending me, a complete stranger, to find and convince this Abigail person to drop everything and come help you?" Gregory shook his head. "She has no idea who I am. Why would she trust me?"
Bryce reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object—a carved wooden token in the shape of a falcon with outstretched wings. "She'll trust you when you give her this. It was a gift from her father to me when I was ten. She'll recognize it immediately."
Gregory took the token, turning it over in his palm. The carving was exquisite, the details of the bird's feathers still visible despite years of handling.
"I don't have anyone else I can send," Bryce admitted. "And there's no one I trust more than Abigail. If what Lord Halvorn says is true, if my mother is behind my disappearance, then I need allies who are beyond her influence."
Gregory sighed, knowing he was already resigned to the task. "Three days to Huster, you said? And if she's not there?"
"Another two to Vertis," Bryce confirmed. "I know it's asking a lot, Gregory. But I wouldn't if it wasn't essential."
"Fine," Gregory grumbled, pocketing the wooden falcon. "But you owe me. Again."
Bryce's face broke into a relieved smile. "I'm keeping a tally, I assure you. When I'm back on the throne, you can name your reward."
"I'll hold you to that," Gregory warned, though there was no real heat in his words.
Within the hour, Lord Halvorn had arranged for supplies and a horse—a sleek chestnut mare that looked faster and more valuable than any mount Gregory had ever called his own. As he inspected the saddle and bridle in the Halvorn's private stable, Gregory was impressed by the quality of the equipment.
"Everything is of the finest make," Eldon assured him, watching as Gregory checked the saddlebags. "The cloak is waterproofed wool from the northern provinces, the boots are double-soled for long journeys, and the knife..." He gestured to the sheathed blade attached to the saddle. "Well, let's just say it's better than most soldiers carry."
Gregory drew the knife partially from its sheath, admiring the fine steel and perfect balance. "This is generous, Lord Halvorn."
"The prince's safety is worth far more than a few pieces of equipment," Eldon replied seriously. "Besides, you'll make better time with proper gear."
Taren appeared at the stable entrance, carrying a rolled parchment. "A map of the western territories," he explained, handing it to Gregory. "I've marked both Huster and Vertis, as well as the most direct routes."
"Thank you," Gregory said, securing the map in an inner pocket of his new cloak.
Bryce joined them, his expression solemn. "You should leave immediately. The western gate is least watched, and Taren has arranged for a friendly guard to be on duty."
Gregory nodded, mounting the mare with practiced ease. The animal responded instantly to his touch, shifting beneath him with a grace that spoke of excellent breeding.
"Remember," Bryce said, handing up a small pouch that clinked with coins, "her name is Abigail Thorn. She has red hair, green eyes, and likely wears the gray cloak of the Rangers. And Gregory..." He hesitated, his voice dropping. "Hurry. I have a feeling we have less time than we think."
"I'll move as fast as I can," Gregory promised. "Try not to get yourself killed while I'm gone, will you? I'd hate to have made this journey for nothing."
Bryce smiled faintly at the gallows humor. "I'll do my best. Safe travels, my friend."
With a final nod to Bryce and the Halvorns, Gregory urged the mare forward, out of the stable and into the morning light of Bridane. As he navigated the waking city streets, he couldn't help but reflect on the strangeness of his situation.
A month ago, he had been a fugitive, fleeing his past and seeking only anonymity. Now he was riding on a mission for the crown prince, carrying secrets that could determine the fate of the kingdom. It wasn't the quiet life he'd imagined for himself, but there was an undeniable thrill to it all.
As the western gate came into view, Gregory straightened in the saddle, adjusting his cloak to hide his face from casual observation. The guard Taren had mentioned nodded almost imperceptibly as he passed, and then Gregory was beyond the city walls, the open road stretching before him.
Three days to Huster, possibly five total to find this Abigail. He nudged the mare into a canter, feeling the powerful animal respond eagerly beneath him. Whatever dangers lay ahead, at least he was well-equipped to face them.
And for the first time in longer than he could remember, Gregory rode with purpose rather than fear driving his steps. It was, he had to admit, a welcome change.
