Gregory held Abigail's gaze, recognizing the dangerous edge in her voice. This was not a woman to trifle with, and certainly not one to lie to. He reached slowly into his pocket, careful to telegraph his movements.
"Prince Bryce sent me," he said, watching her face carefully. Her expression remained guarded, but something flickered in her eyes at the mention of the prince's name. "He gave me this to prove it."
He pulled out the wooden falcon token, holding it out in his palm. Abigail's eyes widened almost imperceptibly as she took in the small carving. With surprising gentleness, she reached out and took it from his hand, turning it over with a familiarity that confirmed her identity beyond any doubt.
"Where did you get this?" she asked, her voice softer now but no less intense.
"From Bryce, as I said. He's alive, Abigail. He's returned to Bridane."
Abigail's composure cracked, just for a moment. She closed her fingers around the token, clutching it tightly.
"That's impossible," she whispered. "Bryce died a year ago. Everyone knows that."
"Everyone is wrong," Gregory replied firmly. "He was captured by Otagin renegades. We escaped together. It's... a long story, and not entirely believable, I admit. But he's alive, and he's in Bridane now, trying to reclaim his place. And he needs your help."
Abigail studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she turned away, moving to the small table where she set down the falcon carving with reverence.
"Sit," she commanded, gesturing to a chair. "You shouldn't be standing with that wound. And I want to hear everything. From the beginning."
Gregory gratefully sank into the offered chair, his body reminding him forcefully of its injuries now that the immediate tension had passed. He began his tale, starting with his first encounter with the disguised prince in Marisburg and continuing through their capture, escape, and the strange desert that had somehow stolen a year from them.
As he spoke, Abigail's face remained impassive, but her eyes betrayed her emotions—shock, disbelief, and finally, a cautious hope.
"Magic," she said when he'd finished, the word carrying a weight of suspicion and fear. "You're saying someone used magic to trap you in that desert?"
Gregory nodded. "Bryce believes so. And he thinks it might have been someone close to the throne. Someone who stood to gain from his absence."
Abigail paced the small cabin, her movements agitated. "The queen," she said finally. "It must be. She's the only one with both the motive and the means."
"You think she has magical abilities?" Gregory asked, surprised by her quick conclusion.
Abigail's gaze was sharp. "There have always been rumors about her family line. Nothing concrete, nothing anyone would dare accuse her of openly. But yes, I believe she does."
She stopped pacing, her decision apparently made. "I need to see Bryce. Confirm this with my own eyes."
"That's why I'm here," Gregory said with relief. "He sent me to find you, to bring you back to Bridane. He needs allies he can trust absolutely."
Abigail nodded, already moving with purpose around the cabin, gathering supplies. "We'll leave tomorrow at first light. Your shoulder needs one more night of rest before it can withstand a hard ride."
"Tomorrow?" Gregory protested. "But Bryce said to hurry. He feels time is running out."
"And you'll be no help to him if you fall from your horse and bleed to death halfway to Bridane," Abigail replied firmly. "One more night. I'll prepare everything we need for a swift journey."
Gregory wanted to argue further but knew she was right. He was in no condition to travel immediately, and Abigail clearly knew what she was doing.
"Fine," he conceded. "Tomorrow it is."
Abigail's expression softened slightly. "I understand your urgency. Believe me, if Bryce is truly alive... there's no one who wants to see him more than I do."
Something in her tone made Gregory look at her more closely. "You were more than just childhood friends, weren't you?"
A shadow passed over Abigail's face. "That was a long time ago," she said quietly. "And it doesn't matter now. What matters is getting to Bridane and helping Bryce secure his position."
She turned away, effectively ending that line of conversation. "You should rest. I'll make us something to eat, and then I need to prepare for our departure."
As Abigail busied herself at the hearth, Gregory leaned back in his chair, feeling the full weight of his exhaustion. He had found Abigail, against considerable odds. One part of his mission was complete. Now he just had to get them both safely back to Bridane—a task that suddenly seemed much more feasible with Abigail's help.
He watched her move around the cabin with efficient grace, noting the strength in her movements and the confidence in her bearing. Bryce had chosen his ally well. Whatever dangers lay ahead, Gregory felt certain that Abigail Thorn would prove a formidable addition to their cause.
As the aroma of cooking food filled the small space, Gregory closed his eyes briefly. For the first time since setting out from Bridane, he felt a glimmer of optimism about their chances. He had found the ally Bryce needed. Now they just had to make it back to the capital before whatever forces were working against the prince could make their next move.
