The Dragonprince's Heir by Aaron Pogue

way we had come.
    We rode ten paces before Caleb grunted by my side. "Keep up that glare and you're liable to hurt your eyes."
    I tore my gaze from the soldiers escorting us down the line. "Caleb, we're as good as prisoners."
    "Child, we've been prisoners since the moment Isabelle went to meet the king beneath our broken gates."
    "And they can just—"
    "He is king," Caleb said, with bitterness and finality in equal measures. One of our escorts turned in his seat to frown back at us, but he could not meet Caleb's glare for long. Caleb shook his head. "We must trust to Isabelle's plans for now. She is neither weak nor foolish."
    "I should be with her," I said.
    Caleb nodded. "I should, certainly. You're right this time."
    He fell silent again after that. I glanced up to his eyes, but he did not appear to be scheming. He looked lazy and distant. I growled my frustration and gripped my reins too tightly and followed our escorts to the back of the train.
    I spent my time thinking. The contingent was a large one, sprawling, and organized though it was, it showed signs of the same busy disorder that always plagued large bodies of men. Even with the king's order out concerning us, we had moved easily enough through the ranks until we'd reached the line of the cavalry.
    Others had moved even among the cavalry, though. I'd seen servants and messengers scurrying north and south while we stopped in place to address the cavalrymen. I'd seen soldiers shifting among the formations, and I'd watched the officer who had faced us turn on his heel and gallop off unchallenged to the very front of the train.
    Movement was possible. That was everything I needed to know. They'd only stopped us when they recognized us. And they'd only recognized us together. No one here knew me . Without Caleb's ominous shadow hanging over my shoulder and two liveried knights at my heels, I'd look like any other page or squire hurrying on his master's errand.
    I watched my escorts and fought to keep the hope from my expression. These three knew me. They would lead me to the formation of Souward's Seventh, and perhaps a handful of infantrymen there would take note of me. But as long as they did not clap me in chains, I would be free to move around soon enough. I would be free to slip away. And as long as I avoided the formations of the two officers who had confronted us, I could steal a path all the way to Mother's carriage. I was sure of it.
    Souward's Seventh turned out to be a formation of light infantry on the far southwest corner of the train. We passed the cooks, the craftsmen, the baggage carts, and found a sole military formation at the very rear. I quickly came to understand Caleb's show of disdain. The men of Souward's Seventh were small and wiry. They looked uneducated, unwashed, and underfed—though they were working on that last one at the moment. The whole formation was stopped, sprawled in the dirt while they ate cold rations and passed around skins of sour-smelling beer.
    Caleb wouldn't have tolerated such men anywhere inside the fortress walls. I felt no such animosity, though. These did not look like careful caretakers. Our escorts guided us into the heart of the formation, and I saw them scanning left and right, searching among the rough soldiers for some sign of an officer. I caught Caleb's quiet smirk, and fought down a smile of my own.
    We wandered for some time among the lounging soldiers, then the cavalrymen turned to us with a fair pretense at confidence. One of them cleared his throat. "These are your companions," he said. "You'll be expected to keep up, pull your weight, and stay in formation."
    His head swiveled one more time, and Caleb raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure an officer will be along shortly to get us sorted out."
    The cavalryman blinked. He must have heard the sarcasm in Caleb's voice, but after a heartbeat he only nodded. "Precisely." He lingered a moment longer, trying to find something else to say, then wheeled his horse and