Hunter's Moon by Sophie Masson

I whispered.
    â€˜It’s all right. It is only natural. You are his daughter, flesh of his flesh. And he needs me more here. For I’m sure that … that he will recover.’ Her lips trembled. ‘The doctors – in Aurisola – they are the very best. They are, Bianca. The best in the world. Really.’
    Impulsively, I flung my arms around her.
    â€˜It is only because he is delirious. He must be delirious. Otherwise he would want you there. I know it. You have been the best, most loving wife. The kindest mother. I’m so, so grateful to have you as a mother.’
    She turned her head away but not before I saw the shine of tears on her cheek.
    â€˜Thank you, Bianca,’ she said, softly. ‘I hoped … I really hoped that …’ She didn’t finish her sentence but, taking a deep breath, began to speak of preparations for my journey. ‘We must get you ready. Siggy, go and tell Drago he is to saddle our two fastest horses at once. Then come back and help Lady Bianca pack.’
    Siggy nodded and set off at a trot.
    Belladonna stood up. ‘I’ll get word to our banker to come at once. You’ll need a good amount of money for the journey.’
    â€˜Thank you,’ I said, through a lump in my throat. ‘I … I just don’t know what I’d do if …’
    â€˜Don’t. We must be strong. Go and start your packing, Bianca,’ she said, touching my shoulder gently.
    As I left the room, a crumpled magazine that had been lying on the floor near the dressing table caught my eye. It was the Mirror , and I could just make out the beginning of the headline: ‘Fairest Lady makes her entrance.’ Usually I enjoyed gazing at the beautiful photo of Belladonna and the tribute article the Mirror published but today I didn’t even bother to look twice. The ball felt like a distant, irrelevant memory.
    Drago and I set out less than fifteen minutes later. I had taken only a small light bag as I did not want to burden the horses and make them run slowly and besides,Belladonna had given me more than enough money to buy whatever I might need when I got to Aurisola.
    As we left the city outskirts far behind and took the forest path, I was grateful for the fact that Drago wasn’t a talker even at the best of times. At the worst of times, like now, his silence was much more welcome than any ham-fisted attempt at comfort. I did not want him to speak aloud, even in comfort, and mention the terrible fear that gripped my mind like an iron band: the fear that we would be too late and that I would never see my father again in this life. I knew Belladonna had sent a telegram to Aurisola just as we left, so that Father would know I was on my way. I hoped – oh, I hoped and prayed so much – that the message that I was on my way would help him hang on. What really scared me was that Father was a fit and healthy man who’d hardly ever had a day’s sickness in his life. Whatever illness it was that had struck him down so suddenly had to be something very bad. Would that mean that it would carry him off quickly, too?
    We entered the forest. It was very quiet under the trees, but not a sinister quiet. Riding with Drago, I felt completely safe. It was peaceful, with the light filtering green-gold through the spring leaves. There were stories of wild beasts of the forest – bears and wolves and lynx – but Drago had been a huntsman in his youth and although in our peaceful, safe city there’d not been much call on his skills, I knew that in other places he’d saved Belladonna from more than one dangerous situation.
    The horses had to go a little slower as we rode deeper into the forest but we were still making good time when suddenly Drago halted and said, ‘My lady, this is where weleave the path, for the shortcut to the steamer port takes us this way,’ and he pointed into the trees. I nodded and turned my horse to follow