Prince of Fire and Ashes: Book 3 of the Tielmaran Chronicles by Katya Reimann

stones, making little falls and pools, overhung with ferns and wisps of pink flower.
    This was the Tielmark she loved. Its wild loneliness, its beauty.
    The riverbank opposite was a solid ridge of granite topped with young pine volunteers, trending gradually toward the near bank, forcing the water fast and high as the stream channel narrowed. It reminded Gaultry of a place near her home on the south border where a limestone-bedded creek made narrow, slippery slides down into deeper, river-dark pools. The fast water was a little dangerous, but Gaultry and her twin sister, Mervion, had spent many summer days lazing there, alternately sunning
on the rocks and cooling themselves with laughing rides down the wildly slippery water chutes.
    The memory of that cool water made her feel acutely how long it had been since her last full bath. Two weeks, and longer. Not since before their flight began from Bissanty. Counting the days back did nothing to improve the suddenly itchy feel of her skin.
    “There’s a bridge ahead.” Martin, who had been riding in front, slowed his horse to ride with her. “Warn the Sharif that her ‘shadow’ will have to find its own place to make a crossing. There’s some kind of gathering at the bridge.”
    Tullier was once again at Martin’s shoulder, edgy and unwilling to let them speak privately.
    “I wish there was a place where we could climb down to the water to cool off.” Gaultry stood up in her stirrups to relieve the heat that had gathered on her seat. “Or even swim across, or ford, rather than going over with everyone else. I don’t like the idea of yet another crowd.”
    “If there were a place to ford, there wouldn’t be a bridge,” Martin said thinly. “Can’t you trust your temper for two minutes together?”
    “What’s wrong with Gaultry looking to find her own way?” As Tullier spoke, he moved his pony, subtly, so Martin’s horse was forced to break its pace. “If Gaultry wants to swim, why not? There must be a place where we can make our way down. It’s not as though we’re laden with market-goods and a cart.”
    Gaultry shot Tullier a wary look. She had become so accustomed to the boy challenging her that his support was unsettling. He often backed her now, even in her smallest caprices—much to Martin’s displeasure.
    Still—she did want her swim. “Why not?” she asked. “A short break would give Aneitha a chance to find her way over.”
    Aneitha-cat was aggressive, constantly hungry, and her narrow, rangy body challenged the size of Tullier’s pony. Only her intelligence, enhanced by the soul-bond she had briefly shared with the Sharif, made it possible for her to stay with them, on the hazy understanding that the journey would return her to her natural home. Since they had crossed into Tielmark, the great cat had been forced to range the countryside as their shadow. There had been a number of awkward moments, even guessing that the Sharif had kept the worst from her.
    The sooner Aneitha and the Sharif were shipborne and homeward bound for far Ardain, the better. Both were fast losing flesh and condition in this unfamiliar damp country.
    “Aneitha has to take care of herself. If she can’t keep up, that can’t be our problem.” Martin scowled at Tullier, a rare show of irritation, then turned back to Gaultry. “We’re not stopping and taking off our clothes to go swimming. We all need to reach Princeport. We both need to explain ourselves to Benet—you more than I.” He reached for a lock of her horse’s mane and twined it loosely around his fingers. “Don’t ask for what I can’t give you.”
    The curl of yellow horsehair looked gold against Martin’s sun-darkened skin. Gold, like a marriage ring. An unfortunate coincidence, considering that Martin was married, however honestly estranged from his wife. They both saw it at the same moment. Gaultry jerked her reins, making the horse start so it twisted the lock of mane free.
    “I’d give you