Lora of Two Worlds

The convoy left Highgarden. Leon looked back at the little village in the morning sun, and his heart filled with hope.

How strange.

He’d thought, a prince with nothing but his title, his opening move must be alliances. Hence this risky journey. But Lora had surprised him at every turn. What he’d gained was more than the Odenheims’ changed fate and a few marcher lords’ goodwill.

And she, as if with a thousand silk threads, had bound him fast...

But not yet. If he married into the Odenheims immediately, his brother the King would never allow it. New troubles would sprout. Wouldn’t that ruin everything? Wait for me, little Lora. Wait until I have the right to choose.

Little Lora was also adrift. She’d stowed away out of worry for her brothers. But these strange sights of the Empire, they’d seeped into her blood, waking something.

Her cousin, in the histories, four years from death. He was no longer a name in a chronicle.

He was someone connected to her by a thousand threads. Could she watch him die unjustly, leaving behind only six cold characters: ”Leon died. Posthumously Duke of Kai”?

”I have to save him!”

Lora blurted it out.

”Yangyang, save who?” Faye rubbed her eyes. ”Where are we?”

”Yewtree already. Look, the drought isn’t as bad here. The wheat ears are full.” Lora was about to rest her chin on the windowsill, then remembered Carl’s warning: Don’t prop your chin on the sill, the carriage bumps, you’ll crack your teeth.

I’m going home!

Leon’s hand wound had healed. No swelling, lucky. But he felt a vague sense of loss.

That night, Lora lay awake. Outside the county office, the rapid clatter of hooves.

”I need to see Lord Roland!”

A familiar voice next door. Aziz, Alvin’s other trusted aide. With Ashford gone, Aziz was all Alvin had left. And he’d ridden through the night...

Lora stepped over the sleeping Faye, pulled on her outer robe, took the oil lamp, and went next door.

”Sister, you’re up? Good. We ride for Yorvik tonight. Pack fast, do your hair in the carriage. Faye comes too. We... probably won’t be coming back to Yorvik.”

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This urgent, no time to comb hair? It must be serious. Lora didn’t stop to ask. She ran back.

Faye was awake too. Lora told her. They threw on their clothes. By the time they reached the courtyard, everyone was ready.

Horn stood with his son. Seeing his daughter, he smiled: ”I won’t rush with you. At dawn, I’ll follow slowly. Faye, you go with your brother and the lady. Listen to your brother. Don’t be willful.”

Faye was still dazed. Her father had told her, he’d betrothed her to Lord Roland. She liked him. On the road, she’d found his scholar-general air quite dashing. And he was patient, like Lora, used to her ways.

He’d saved her and her father from bandits. Her father had proposed the match...

But now, this sudden parting. Her brother going with her, was this the wedding procession?

”Father!”

”Go on, go on. Listen to your brother.”

The carriage left the county office, faster and faster. Men on horseback beside it, torches in hand.

”Jian! Where’s Corin?” Lora saw Jian riding alongside.

”He went ahead to Yorvik! Don’t worry, he’ll meet us on the road.”

Wild boy. Three hundred men, he’d promised. He’d gone back to call them out.

Past the county town, the convoy slowed. Shawn leaned in: ”My lady, posting house. Lord Roland says: change horses.”

Carriages were half the speed of horses. Faye could ride. Lora, still half-skilled. She stepped down and saw their solution.

Extra horses. Swap mid-stage. At each posting house, fresh mounts.

Lora was about to mount Roland’s horse when Leon said: ”Come to mine. My archery is worse than his, I can spare the bow arm.”

This was Alvin’s order too. Emergency, be prepared for interception on the road. No time to hesitate. Lora reached up. Leon pulled her onto the horse.

”What’s happened in Yorvik?” Lora couldn’t help asking.

”Not Yorvik. Deepford.”

”Deepford? What does that have to do with us? Why is Alvin rushing us back?”

Lora wasn’t even sure where Deepford was. Riding was fast, but the bouncing was terrible. Talking would crack her teeth.

”Don’t talk, you’ll bite your tongue.” Leon didn’t answer. He held her, spoke by her ear:

”What you need to do now is ride with me. Feel the horse’s rhythm. Match your breathing to his, like your dance tempo. Squeeze with your calves, you won’t tire as much. If you’re tense, the horse tenses too.”

”But my feet dangle. I can’t push.”

”Stand on my foot.”

Lora tried. Better. Her legs had something to push against. Though, his foot had no padding. Might hurt him.

”Push hard. I don’t mind pain. Only if your legs and core are engaged can you follow the horse.”

”Then... don’t cry if it hurts.”

Leon: ...

After those two exchanges, Leon’s nerves eased. He explained:

”Greyhollow March raided Deepford. The crown sent a warrant to Yorvik, Eastmarch, and Weybrook, march and suppress. But Yorvik refuses to move. The others wait and see.”

”So Alvin wants us back, to change Sheffield’s mind? But Linnie’s still in Yewtree...”

”Yannic Xavier came back with us.”

”Oh!...” She’d squeezed too hard. ”Sorry... I’m dead weight.”

”No.”

”When we get back, teach me to ride.”

”Why not Carl?”

”You’re more available...”

”Fine.”

They stopped talking. Lora began to feel it, the horse’s rise and fall. His rhythm. Which was also Leon’s rhythm. The pressure on his back lessened. The horse ran easier. The gap to the riders ahead shrank.

So, two people, one horse, swapping mounts at every stage. Thirty li between posting houses. From dark to dawn. And when the sun was fully up, the high walls of Yorvik appeared.

”You’re clever. And you did well... Remember this feeling. When you ride alone, you’ll learn fast.”

Leon didn’t spare praise this time. Even in crisis, she’d kept up, adapted, held her own.

After dismounting, Lora noticed: Leon walked with a slight limp. He hid it, but it was there.

A little bit adorable.