Cassandra stood tall, despite all of the unfriendly eyes bearing down on her. A small knot of dread had forced its way into her throat, and despair was seconds from setting in. Her head was reeling. How could all this be happening? There was really no explanation for this painful betrayal. At first, she'd tried to tell herself it was only a bad joke, of really poor taste. But she was an honest, open person, and that meant she was honest with herself. It was not a joke.
A calm voice she had once loved, but now came to equate with treachery, spoke. "You, Cassandra Altman, and your accomplices, have been found guilty of high crime, and will be expelled from the kingdom of Araluen, now and forever. The sentence becomes effective immediately. You are permitted one bag and one horse. You have until sundown to be out of the kingdom," Horace stared down at her and she could almost detect a note of sympathy, but not quite.
She could feel her world breaking down around her, crumbling to ashes. Her husband, a lying scoundrel who still clutched a piece of her heart in his hand. Her kingdom, no longer hers. Her friends, well, that was another matter entirely, for they were in the same boat as her. All banished, for however long they might live. But through all the horror and shock, she managed to pull herself together.
"My name is Evanlyn, and though you may deign to remove me from my land, it will still be mine, however long I might live. The people are loyal to their queen, wherever she might reside. I hope you regret this day for the rest of your life, Horace. And barring that, I hope you find your place in Hell torturous and miserable," Cassandra, now Evanlyn of the wilds, bowed crisply, and marched out of the oval chamber, not trying to mask the tears that flew freely.
Will, Gilan, Jenny, Halt, and Alyss were waiting for her in the long hallway. The skin around their wrists was red and puckered, and all of them, even Jenny, were looking malnourished. "We're leaving. I don't know where, but we must be gone by nightfall," she informed them, trying not to look at their eyes. She knew what she would find there. In Will's, a quiet sadness and tormented, frayed look that screamed "I've been shot in the back by my best friend!" In Gilan's, a look like her own, as if his life was being ruined by one man that he thought he knew well. In Halt's, a steely determination and an understanding, and in Alyss's, anger and hatred. Evanlyn couldn't face them; it was just too hard, so she led them to her chambers, where she had already prepared a bag for them.
It was a simple matter for Evanlyn to scoop the bag up and lead them outside where six horses were waiting to carry them from the word they thought they knew well. And as the horses' gait thundered under them, they reached the borders by night. No words passed between them, none were needed. And then, as they rode on, a shadowy figure joined their group. And then another, and another, and another, until the original party of 6 became a party of 20. Fourteen members of the Ranger Corps had joined them in their banishment. Two more people, riding hard, approached from behind them. Rodney and Baron Arald. Still no words were spoken, and still, none were needed. The quiet feeling of companionship bound them together.
And Evanlyn was regal, queenly, riding at the head of the pack. Her back was ramrod straight and her features proud, but really, she was just grateful for the support of her friends. They rode all night, and the drumbeat of horses' hooves was a battle cry that echoed through every skull. More and more riders joined the party every hour. The Queen would not be alone in her hour of need. Finally, as daylight began to streak across the sky and they were well into Celtica, a last lone rider joined them. George.
"For the love of all that shine's under this magnificent sun! Why do you have to ride so fast?"
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