The Promise

The wind felt cool against Artemis’s face as she urged Zephyr on through the grassy plain. The mare’s hooves barely made a sound as she raced across the grass.

She could hear another set of hooves thundering after her.

Artemis glanced over her shoulder at Atalanta atop her black stallion.

“So noisy!” she called, laughing. “You could never be a hunter.”

Atalanta urged Goliath forward until he pulled alongside Zephyr.

“Maybe not a great hunter, but good enough. Goliath would never let me starve.”

Goliath snorted as if he agreed.

Artemis laughed and leaned forward over Zephyr’s neck. “Come on, girl!”

The two horses raced across the plain, their shadows stretching alongside them in the afternoon sunlight. The air smelled of warm grass and wildflowers.

Ahead, a broad brook cut across their path.

“Race you!”

Before Atalanta could answer, Artemis kicked Zephyr into a gallop.

The mare sprang forward.

“Artemis!” Atalanta laughed and followed.

The sisters reached the brook almost together. Zephyr cleared the water in a single bound, while Goliath landed heavily on the other side with a splash of muddy water.

Artemis turned in the saddle, laughing. “I won!”

“You cheated.”

“How?”

“You started and then announced the race. That’s cheating.”

“Ha! I learned it from you.”

“I never—”

Artemis shook her head. “The selective memory of a big sister.”

They circled back and dismounted beside the brook. The horses lowered their heads eagerly to drink.

Atalanta removed her boots and rolled up her trousers before sitting on the bank and dipping her feet into the cool water.

Artemis joined her.

For a while, neither spoke.

Water flowed around their feet. Zephyr and Goliath drank nearby, occasionally lifting their heads to snort before returning to the water.

“Nine months,” Artemis said at last. “Our longest gig yet.”

Atalanta smiled. “Yeah. Couldn’t have imagined doing this when we were little.”

“No.” Artemis nudged her shoulder against her sister’s. “You were much too stuck-up back then.”

“Me?”

“You were always Father’s favorite.”

Atalanta looked at her. “Would you have wanted to be Father’s favorite?”

“Hell no!”

Atalanta laughed. “You’re welcome.”

Artemis laughed harder. “Thank you.”

Her laughter slowly faded. She watched the sunlight glitter across the brook “Really, thank you. You are a great sister.”

Atalanta looked down at her feet beneath the water. “You’re the one who saved me. If you hadn’t followed me three years ago—”

“You would have figured it out.” Artemis kicked her foot through the water, sending a small splash toward Atalanta. “You’re the hero.”

“Me?” Atalanta laughed. “Do you know how often I ask myself, What would Artemis do?”

Artemis grinned. “You’re right. You really lucked out getting me as a sister.”

“And as a friend.”

“And as a friend.”

Artemis leaned against Atalanta’s shoulder.

The horses wandered a few steps away, grazing on the grass beside the brook.

After a moment, Artemis asked, “So, what’s next?”

“I know that Miranda wants to find her parents.” Atalanta pulled her feet from the water and reached for her boots. “Her mother was taken by the Count, and she isn’t sure what happened to her father.”

“So we’re going back to Staropolis?”

“Only if you’re up for it. I’m sure that Miranda would understand—”

Artemis looked at her sister. “Sure. Why not?” She stood and brushed the grass from her clothes. “We sort of left Sir Boring with a big mess there. It might be fun to see how things turned out.”

Atalanta pulled on her boots. “You don’t like him. He helped me out a lot. Sparring with me—he didn’t have to do that. I am a better swordsman because of him.”

“Oh, Donavan is a good enough sort.” Artemis walked over to Zephyr and gathered the reins. “Except…”

Atalanta looked up. “Except what?”

Artemis mounted. “Except he’s completely in love with you.”

“He’s not—”

“You are so dense.”

Atalanta shook her head as she mounted Goliath. “It really doesn’t matter. I still have plenty of things I want to do with you.” She smiled at her sister. “And we have our own party now.”

“Party?” Artemis laughed. “We should get back. We shouldn’t be late.”

She started Zephyr toward the city.

“You’re right.” Atalanta pulled alongside her sister.

Then she smirked and pushed Goliath into a full gallop, leaving Artemis behind. “Race you to the tavern!”

Atalanta and Artemis could hear music even before they reached the tavern.

They had barely stepped through the door when someone caught Atalanta by the hand and pulled her into the dancing.

“Hey!”

Artemis laughed as another woman grabbed her.

Soon the sisters were being passed from one partner to another, laughing as they recognized the faces that had greeted them every day for the past nine months.

Carla was laughing near the kitchen. The wagonmaster was dancing with one of the caravan women. Daphne was spinning around with Miranda while Jonas watched from the edge of the room.

For a while, they forgot they were leaving. But the delicious aromas escaping the kitchen broke the spell.

Atalanta escaped the dancing and dropped into a chair. “I need food.”

Artemis collapsed into the chair beside her. “You always need food.”

“I’m a big girl.”

Carla appeared with two plates before Artemis could answer.

“Good. You’re sitting down.”

She set the plates in front of them. Beef, vegetables, bread— enough food to satisfy even Atalanta.

“I made these for you,” Carla said. “Think of it as my thank-you—and goodbye.”

Atalanta smiled. “Thank you, Carla. I’ll miss this.”

Jeremy came over carrying another plate.

“That’s very thoughtful.” Jeremy then raised an eyebrow. “So does that also mean you’re saying goodbye to my kitchen?”

Atalanta ignored the banter that followed and began to cut into her meat. Just as she was about to take a bite, Daphne appeared with a pot of tea and a stack of cups.

“From the peddler,” she said. “Said he isn’t big on goodbyes.”

Atalanta looked across the room. The peddler was sitting at a table by himself.

She poured herself a cup and raised it toward him.

“It’s wonderful!”

“I’ll get some for you to take on your trip!” he called back. “Wholesale!”

Atalanta laughed and took another sip. Then she eyed her plate and grinned. “Perfect.”

She picked up her fork.

The wagonmaster dropped into the empty chair beside her, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.

Atalanta politely returned the fork to the side of her plate and smiled. “You were looking good out there, old man.”

“Well,” he said. “I can’t say I’ve ever been this sad to see a job end.”

“It was a good job,” Atalanta said.

“Sorry I couldn’t pay you.”

“Ate well, though.” Atalanta patted her stomach and laughed.

Daphne chirped, “And you added another archer, swordsman, and… Miranda to your party.”

“Archer and swordsman in training,” Atalanta corrected.

“No fair. Why doesn’t Miranda—“

“She’s already the best at what she does,” Artemis said.

“I am in training until I’m the best?”

“No, just until you’re better than your master.”

“But you are the best!”

“I never said it was fair.”

The wagonmaster laughed. “So what do you have going on next?”

“We have some unfinished business in Staropolis.” Atalanta exchanged a glance with Miranda. Miranda smiled.

“When you’re through with Attica, look for us. We could always use an experienced escort.”

“But you can’t afford an experienced escort,” Artemis said. “That’s why you got us in the first place.”

The wagonmaster chuckled, but a dark-haired woman rushed over and grabbed his arm. “You’ve rested long enough, old man. It’s time to dance.”

“Duty calls!” He laughed and then disappeared into the wave of dancers.

“Duty calls.” Atalanta reached for her knife and fork.

“Too slow.” Artemis pointed.

A group of travelers approached the table. Elmira was holding onto Robert’s arm while he carried several packages with his free hand.

Atalanta returned her knife and fork to the table and then looked up at her visitors with a smile.

“This party is something else,” Elmira said. “And the food is just delicious.”

Atalanta glanced down longingly at her plate. “Yes, delicious.”

“Well, me and the others made you something.” Elmira turned to Robert, who handed her the packages.

She gave the first to Atalanta.

Atalanta opened it and stared.

A dress.

“For me?”

Elmira nodded. “You had us running all over the clothing district, and you still never let the dressmakers measure you for anything.”

Atalanta blushed.

“Good thing we know your size.”

Daphne laughed.

Atalanta ran her fingers over the fabric. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you.”

Elmira smiled and handed the second package to Artemis. “For you.”

Artemis opened it.

“A jacket?”

“It’s a little dressier than what you usually wear,” Elmira said.

Artemis slipped it on over her shirt. “How do I look?”

“Handsome,” one woman said.

Daphne leaned into her and looked into her eyes. “You look beautiful—you always do.”

“Damn,” Atalanta said. “Between the two of you, Sis is bound to get a swelled head.”

“Jealous.” Artemis raised an eyebrow.

“You are my sister—I can only be happy for you.”

“You sure?” Artemis said smugly.

“Happy. Just like Miranda and Sarah—“

“Bad example.” Artemis frowned.

Jeremy, who had been passing by with Sarah clinging to his arm, stopped. “What do you mean bad example? My love is—“

“Is a total idiot.”

“She’s not—“

“Don’t be so upset. You’re an idiot too. You deserve each other.”

“But we are going away.” Daphne’s eyes began to water. “And Elmira and the caravan—“

“We will be back. I promise—in ten years, maybe earlier,” Atalanta said.

Sarah stepped in and leaned in next to Jeremy as he wrapped an arm around her. “Five.”

“What?”

“I am your precious friend. Ten years is too long—but if it’s much less than five, you may eat us out of business. Five is the perfect number.”

“Five years!” the wagonmaster said, snatching an unsuspecting patron’s ale from a nearby table and raising it high.

One by one, the others raised theirs.

“Five years,” Miranda said.

“Five,” Daphne echoed.

Even the peddler lifted his cup from across the room.

Atalanta laughed. “All right. Five years.”

They drank.

Then Atalanta ate.