The Witch's Reward by Liz McCraine

she struggled against her father’s strong arms, or the look of acceptance in Jess’s eyes as he stood by the side of the road, realizing there was nothing he could do for her. She tried to ignore the memory of banked hazel eyes staring at her from a bronzed, handsome face. And above all, she tried not to think about everything bad that might happen.
    If she did, she was going to fall apart. Mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, she would break into a million pieces, and then into a million more.
    There was still hope, she reminded herself. She had to hold it together. She had to overcome the urge to disintegrate. And the only way to do that was to focus on the facts.
    Fact: She was a prisoner. Okay, she could accept that. It wasn’t like throwing herself repeatedly against the bars of the cage in an attempt to escape was going to do her any good. Whether she liked it or not, she was stuck. She would have to learn to deal with it.
    Fact: She was going to the palace. The truth was, she’d always wanted to go; so even though her transportation wasn’t ideal, the end result was the same. And that was something positive.
    Fact: It was not certain that she would be executed. Likely? Yes. But she was working on forgetting that point of interest. The truth was that she was headed to meet with the king and be tried. A trial, not execution. Again, focusing on the positive.
    Which led to the next two facts.
    Fact: She was still alive and relatively unharmed, injured feet notwithstanding.
    Fact: She was on an adventure. Her very first. It was something she’d always wanted, but never hoped to have. And though the circumstances were far different than what she could have ever imagined, it was still an adventure. For the first time in her life, she had left Farr. The lush, green valleys of the home she had known were now far behind her, and surrounding her was a world foreign to anything she’d known.
    Aside from a few visits to the berry patches and an occasional town celebration on the outskirts of the forest, this was the only time Larra had ever been in the Rockwood. She noticed the trees seemed taller, denser, more alive within the heavy folds of the forest than she had imagined. The dirt road continued in turns and twists, winding its way through thick trunks and scraggly foliage. Sunlight filtered down in tiny clumps between the branches, casting grape-like spots along the road that danced to music of their own making. The scent of damp earth and old leaves rose from the ground, adding even more dimension. It was as beautiful as Farr, but in a totally different way.
    She fantasized of gliding through the forest’s shadows, of stepping through its hidden hollows. But after glancing down at her feet, that fantasy quickly dissipated. The cuts she had received from being dragged down the gravel path at the cottage were coated in dried blood and there was no ignoring the stinging sensation of infection. It would be so easy to reach down and heal them, but she feared the consequences. She wished she’d had time to at least collect her shoes, if not some pouches of medicine from her grandmother’s supplies. It certainly wouldn’t have hurt anyone to have the herbs on such a journey; though, in all likelihood, the captain would probably think the medicines to be some sort of witch’s poison.
    Looking up, she saw that besides the captain there were thirteen other men in the company. Two had been sent forward to scout the trail, leaving the remaining men riding in groups of two and three. They seemed far more relaxed now than at the beginning of the journey, the low hum of voices breaking the silence of the forest as they quietly spoke to one another. In addition to the men, there were the two dogs and two pack mules laden down with supplies they must have purchased in the village.
    She didn’t notice one of the men approaching her until a voice startled her from her thoughts.
    “Why, lookey here. What is this thing caught in