A War for Truth

Darkness consumed the world, swallowing up every path that lay before Dreach-Sciene’s prince. He represented everything they hoped for. He’d bring back their light.

Trystan Renauld stood alone. Always alone. The pitch-black night surrounded him. Was it night? Or had he already lost?

A light appeared farther along the road, the small blaze from a ball of fire. It grew and hovered in the air, illuminating the palm that held it aloft. As it moved closer, the face behind the flame became clear. The seer. Lorelai.

Why didn’t it burn her?

“Someone you love will die by your hand.” Her deep voice vibrated from the heavens. “Someone you love will sacrifice their life for yours.” She raised her palm and curled her fingers. The fireball pulsed. “Someone you love will forsake your name.”

Sweat poured down Trystan’s face. He wanted to run from her words, from the obvious magic she held, but his feet stuck in the quicksand of her power.

“The curse of kings,” he breathed. His body shook. “Death. Sacrifice. Betrayal.”

The seer raised her arm, the light from the fire shining in her pale hair. She threw her head back as her magic shot forward and flames danced along Trystan’s skin. He screamed as they rose toward the sky and swirled around him.

An image appeared among the flames.

“Davi.” Trystan choked as his best friend’s eyes lifted to meet his.

“Trystan.” The voice didn’t come from right in front of him, but from the very air that infused life into the flames. “You promised!”

He shook his head violently as the scene played out before him. As Davi clutched the sword that would crush them all, Trystan fell to his knees. His friend screamed as the blade pierced his flesh and the light in his fierce eyes went out.

Trystan covered his face with his hands, only lifting his eyes when the flames released him and shot past his huddled form. He watched helplessly as they threaded through a village.

“Toha,” someone screamed. “You’re supposed to protect us.”

“Trystan.” Another voice cut through the noise, this one kinder. “My Prince, wake up.”

Trystan jolted awake, sweat soaking through his hair. “Davi,” he said.

The eyes that met his swirled with sadness.

“Lonara,” Trystan said when he finally realized where he was. “Is everyone okay? Have they found us?”

“No, but we should move on soon. It won’t be long before they track Briggs’ magic here.”

He nodded, pushing himself up, so he was sitting. His back ached with the movement and he scanned his body for burns as the dream came back to him.

Why was Lorelai important? Surely, she was still at the Dreach-Sciene palace with his father. He stretched his arms out in front of him. Pain was good. It meant he was still alive. That was the one thing the loss of Davi couldn’t take from him.

He glanced around the cave they’d arrived at yesterday. With a shiver, he huffed out a breath. It was cold enough to see the air linger in front of his face. He rubbed his hands along his arms. “I think it’d be better if we stayed here until the cold passes. Knowing Dreach-Sciene, we’ll have a heat wave tomorrow.”

“No.” Lonara looked wholly unaffected by the cold. “It has only been a week since Briggs used magic to pull down the side of the mountain.” She pursed her lips in disapproval. “His magic will remain traceable to those with seer blood for a while yet, but the thread will grow weaker with a little more time. Until then, we must keep moving.”

He nodded. Disappointment shot through him, but he understood. He rubbed his eyes, fighting the exhaustion brought on by the constant danger.

He climbed to his feet and held his hand out to her. Lonara was a small woman with russet, reddish-brown skin and dark wiry hair. She turned golden eyes on him as if to say something and only nodded as she took his hand and pulled herself up.

Trystan watched her hug her furs tighter around her shoulders, wishing he had some as well. She wore traditional mountain dress as she’d been living in hiding in the mountains for many years.

As he stepped to the edge of the cave, his eyes roamed over the snowy landscape. The white powder must have fallen while he’d been sleeping. It gave a false sense of peace.

“Before the magic was gone from these lands,” Lonara began wistfully. “There was a time of year for this. Winter. For months, the cold would encompass the land and dust it with snow. We always knew it was coming and prepared.”

Trystan grunted, resentment stinging his thoughts. Along with the other two members of the Tri-Gard, she’d had a hand in changing Dreach-Sciene forever.

Snow crunched beneath his boots as he walked out. Edric sat near the mouth of the cave deep in thought. He nodded to Trystan.

“Ladies,” Trystan said as he walked up to Avery and Alixa. “Are you healing well, Avery?”

She looked up from where she was sharpening her sword. “Almost good as new.”

She was lying, but none of them had healed well from their battle. Trystan dreamed of Davi every night. He hadn’t taken an arrow like Avery, but he was in no better shape.

“Good of you to finally wake, your Highness.” Alixa’s tone didn’t hold as much of a bite as it had before. The corner of her mouth lifted in a tentative smile. At least she was trying to return to some form of normalcy.

She placed her freezing hand over his.

None of them could be the same after that day. His hand grew slick, and he snatched it back just in time to see deep red blood oozing between his fingers. He squeezed his eyes shut as his breath came out in short gasps.

He hadn’t loosed the arrow that killed Davi. His friend died by his own hand. But he’d done it to save Trystan. He was the sacrifice. Maybe Lorelai’s curse was true.

A hand landed on his arm, and he opened his eyes to find Alixa staring at him. He calmed his breathing as her bright eyes held his.

“He may be gone, Trystan, but our mission is still alive. We’ll do it for him.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. With a glance from Alixa to Avery to Lonara, he sighed. “Where’s my sister?”

“The princess went into the woods at the end of the path.” Avery pointed with her sword.

Trystan turned to trudge through the snow to the trees. He should have known. Rissa had an affinity for trees or any kind of life that grew from the earth. She had the Tenelach, a deep connection to the earth, that he used to think was a fairytale. For most of his life, he’d thought that was all magic was. Fancy stories and unrealistic dreams.

Lonara followed him into the trees. He wanted to ask her to give him some time with Rissa, but she looked determined.

Rissa had barely spoken to anyone since Davi’s death. A constant scowl lined her face, marking the anger brewing just below the surface.

They heard Briggs before they saw him. The Tri-Gard member was bent over, drawing something on the ground and mumbling to himself.

“We’re so close,” he said. “Only one more.”

Rissa leaned against the base of a large tree, one leg propped up behind her. Her pale skin seemed paler still against the snowy backdrop, and her fire-red hair blazed bright. As Trystan and Lonara neared, she turned her once bright eyes on them. They’d dulled considerably and Trystan imagined they now matched his own.

For most of their lives, it’d been the three of them—Trystan, Rissa, and Davion. Now they were the only ones left, and it felt as if they didn’t even have each other to hold on to anymore.

She turned her head so she no longer had to meet his eyes. “Are we moving on soon?” Her voice was as listless as he felt.

“Yes.” He stepped forward cautiously. “I’m glad you didn’t go off alone today.”

She shrugged. “Briggs doesn’t expect me to talk to him. He just talks to himself.”

The accusation was plain in her voice, but he didn’t address it. Instead, he walked to look at what Briggs was drawing. Carved into the snow were two symbols. Each was a triangle in a circle, but one was upside down.

“What are these?” he asked, scanning the detailed depictions.

Briggs looked up as if noticing he had company for the first time. “I already explained the first one.”

Rissa kicked off the tree and strode forward. “To me, old man. You didn’t tell my brother.”

Briggs looked confused for a moment before pushing up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal the symbol tattooed on the inside of his wrist. “There are three of them, sigils, that must work together to balance the magic. We need all three to bring it back.”

“Each represents a member of the Tri-Gard,” Lonara explained. “The mark Briggs wears means dark magic.” She pointed to the second symbol he’d drawn. “Mine is light magic.” She pointed to each symbol inside her sigil in turn. “Light. Harmony. Fate. Magic.”

Briggs looked to her in alarm. “We’re missing earth.”

She put a hand on his arm to calm him. “We will get to him.”

He shook his head violently. “Ramsey was in league with the dark king.”

She smiled weakly. “We can’t completely blame him. We too, stole the magic. In the end, it did not matter that we were saving Dreach-Sciene from destruction or that we were forced. Ramsey was protecting his daughter. Love is the greatest force in the world. Greater than hate. More influential than fear. With it, we are flawed. Without it, we are nothing.”

Trystan met Rissa’s eyes. His love for Davi prevented him from fulfilling his promise. If Davi hadn’t taken his own life, it would’ve put the people of Dreach-Sciene in jeopardy. There was no doubt in his mind he would’ve saved his friend at the expense of his kingdom.

Rissa’s cold eyes were too much. Too real. Too painful. He turned on his heel and walked back the way he’d come, his footsteps fading away as fresh powder filled in the evidence that he’d been there, the proof that he’d cared.

Rissa’s grief threatened to pull him under the current of his own despair. Hardening himself, he climbed to the surface until all he felt was an emptiness and a fierce determination.

Because all he had now was this mission. He couldn’t save his friend, his brother. He refused to let his people suffer the same fate. For he was Toha. He was their protector, their light in the darkness. When he had no hope himself, at least he could give some to them.

That’s what he was born to do.

* * *

The light blinded Rissa as it pushed through the clouds and bounced off the clean white snow in front of her. She shielded her eyes with a hand and glared across the landscape before them.

“We should stop here to rest.” Trystan’s teeth chattered as he spoke.

Steam drifted in front of her face as Rissa huffed out a breath. They were getting nowhere. They’d been trudging along in the mountains for almost two weeks. She’d thought they’d have left for Dreach-Dhoun by now, but they had to wait long enough so Briggs wasn’t traceable to every seer.

He’d used his magic twelve days ago and Lona still said the traces clung to them.

Rissa didn’t care. All she wanted was a Dreach-Dhoun soldier to hit.

It didn’t help that it’d been so cold for days. They couldn’t travel far without stopping, lest they freeze to death.

“I’ll get to work on a fire,” Alixa said.

“I’ll help.” Trystan shot a look at Rissa, and she averted her eyes.

How could Trystan act like everything was normal? She saw the way he followed Alixa. Davion was dead and Trystan continued to flirt.

Edric dug in his pack as Avery tied up the horses. After the fight, they’d only found three of the horses that had ridden off—meaning Rissa’s feet screamed with every step. But she didn’t stop. She passed Lona and Briggs, who paid her no mind as she continued up the path.

Snow drifted from the sky, catching in her eyelashes. She blinked, and the snowflakes fell to her cheeks where they melted instantly, almost as if they were tears. She hadn’t cried since it happened. Crying meant it was real. It would serve as the final dagger twisting in her gut.

It had happened. Of that, there was no doubt. But there was a difference between knowing someone died and the crushing realization that they were truly gone.

The road bent around the corner before moving farther up the mountain. Rissa stopped and stepped off the side of the road onto the narrow strip between the well-trod path and where it dropped off.

It could’ve been the edge of the world.

The air was hazy with falling snow, obscuring the long drop off the cliff. She imagined there was a road down there or something of the sort. She shuffled forward so her toes hit the cliff. Fear surged through her, but she didn’t move back because it proved she could still feel something.

It was better than the emptiness inside her. She’d tried to fill it with anger. That worked when she didn’t think about it too much.

She closed her eyes as a frosty blast blew her hair from where it stuck to the damp skin of her neck. Her fingers rubbed the pendant at her throat.

“Tell me how to get through this, Mom,” she whispered.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she jumped back and whipped around. After pulling her knife free, she threw it at the bank of snow on the other side of the road. Leaping towards where it dug in, she tore it free before plunging it in again. The tip hit ice, the impact reverberating up her arm.

She stabbed it again.

She’d never known her mother, and she focused her anger on that. For so long, Davi had been the sole recipient.

But she couldn’t maintain an ire towards someone she didn’t know. Before long, it came back to Davi as it always did. He’d left her.

She collapsed into the snow, letting the cold freeze her heart.

She didn’t know how long she stared into the swirling sky before Alixa blocked her vision. Her coat was pulled up to cover the bottom half of her face, but her eyes shone with disapproval.

When she spoke, the fabric muffled her voice. “You’re going to freeze out here.” She planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes.

“Go play keeper to someone else.” Rissa’s lips trembled with the cold.

Alixa never listened to anyone. She sat down. “I’ve lived in these mountains most of my life, Ri.”

“Don’t call me Ri.” Only two people ever had—Trystan and Davion—and she couldn’t bear to hear it anymore.

Alixa kept going. “You don’t want to be caught too far from your fire when the sun goes down during a snowstorm.”

Rissa shrugged.

“I’m serious. You’ll die of cold.”

“I don’t care.”

Alixa jumped to her feet. “Rissa Renauld. Get your princess butt out of that snow right now. I know you’re hurting. We all are. That doesn’t mean we can forget why we’re here.”

“Haven’t we already forgotten? All we’re doing is wandering around these mountains.”

Alixa crossed her arms. “I won’t ask you again. Stand up. You will come back to the fire that Trystan and I have put our every effort into starting. I, for one, don’t want to die before we take that bastard in Dreach-Dhoun with us.” She reached a hand down.

Rissa had no more fight in her. She took the hand and pulled herself to her feet before following Alixa back down the path.

Before they reached the others, Alixa stopped. “Rissa, you know I’m here, right? We didn’t exactly start on the best of terms, but I know what it’s like to lose your best friend. My maid—”

“Davi wasn’t my best friend,” Rissa cut in. “Most of the time we couldn’t stand each other. He was annoying.”

“But you loved him.”

Rissa looked away.

Alixa sighed. “If you won’t talk to me, you should at least talk to your brother. You’ve both done your best to avoid each other, but maybe you need him. I know for a fact he needs you.”

Rissa pushed past her. “I don’t need anyone.”

She rejoined the others before Alixa could respond. Avery handed her a tin mug of tea as she sat. The flames warmed her face, but that heat didn’t permeate the skin. On the inside, she was just as cold as she’d been before.

As night descended, a silence stretched between them, broken only by the roar of a mountain cat in the distance. Lona’s sad eyes burned into her as Briggs tried to goad her into conversation. She ignored him and leaned against her pack. As she closed her eyes, she imagined Davi’s laughter cutting through the tension of the night.

* * *

The crunch of snow had Trystan shooting up from where he half dozed beside the fire. He rolled sideways to grab his sword and sprang to his feet just as the sound of clashing swords reached his ears. After running towards the commotion, he came to a stop, the sight before him sending a shock through his system.

Two Isenore soldiers had found their camp, but Lonara fought them fervently. Her magic wasn’t the weapon she chose. Instead, she blocked and parried with a long, thin sword that gleamed in the early morning light.

Her movements were swift, sure, as she moved gracefully.

“Help would be appreciated,” she called to Trystan.

He snapped out of his momentary daze and jumped into the fray.

“King Calis is going to gut all Dreach-Sciene scum,” one of the soldiers snarled.

Trystan grunted as he shuffled his feet and pushed his opponent so his back was against a tree. “All I hear is blah blah, I’m a bloody traitor.”

It was something Davi would have said, and Trystan found his smirk dropping.

Lonara knocked her soldier’s sword away and swept his legs out from under him. He landed with a thud, the tip of her sword pressed to the hollow of his throat.

“Are there others?” she asked.

Trystan forced his opponent to drop his weapon and kept him pinned to the tree. After a few moments, the soldier stopped struggling.

“We won’t tell you anything,” he growled before spitting in Trystan’s face.

With his hands occupied, Trystan couldn’t wipe the spittle away, and it dripped down his face as the Isenore traitor grinned.

Trystan slammed his knee into the man’s gut, eliciting a grunt of pain. “How many know where we are?”

The man shouted curses at Trystan rather than giving him any answers.

Suddenly, he went quiet and jerked before he slumped in Trystan’s arms. An arrow protruded from the side of his head.

Trystan let him fall to the ground and wiped his face as the twang of another loosed arrow sliced through the air. He turned slowly, knowing what he’d find but hoping he was wrong.

“Rissa Renauld,” Lonara shrieked as she stood over the dead soldier at her feet. “What is the matter with you?”

Rissa stepped from where the trees hid her and shrugged as she fingered her bow. “They wouldn’t have told you anything.”

Trystan marched over to confront his sister. “What if we have a whole troop of soldiers after us?”

She met his glare unflinchingly. “They were traitors. They deserved to die.” Her voice was devoid of any sign of life and Trystan shrank away from her. That was not his sister. She wasn’t cold, heartless. Not Rissa.

Lonara shook her head. “I would expect a daughter of Marissa Kane to have something inside her head besides air and anger.”

The sorceress trudged by them without another word.

How was Trystan supposed to help his sister when every part of his soul was broken as well?

Rissa wasn’t the one who’d broken the promise to prevent Davi’s capture. Trystan put a hand on the nearby tree to steady himself and closed his eyes, trying to rid his mind of the images that plagued him every day. Davi knocking the soldiers away from Trystan. Davi struggling to break free. The acceptance entering his eyes. His pleas for Trystan to fulfill his promise.

“Ri…” He opened his eyes but stopped when he saw her standing over the dead men, not a flicker of emotion on her face.

“We’re going to kill them all.” She plucked at the string of her bow. “Dreach-Dhoun is going to run red.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. There was nothing he could say to fill the hole inside of her.

“We need to get moving.” He turned and walked back towards the others, leaving behind the girl he no longer recognized.

Where was his sister?

They packed up their few supplies and hit the road once again. The day was slightly warmer than the one before, but the world was still bathed in white.

Trystan blew on his hands and sped up to match Lonara’s stride. Her long-sword was strapped across her back.

“So,” he began. “You can fight.”

She nodded shortly. “How do you think your mother learned?”

“I wasn’t aware my mother knew any of the Tri-Gard.”

“Dear boy, there is so much you don’t know.” She paused almost as if considering how much she should tell him. “Your mother was like a daughter to me. Her death was the greatest tragedy of my long life.”

He scrunched his brow. How could a member of the Tri-Gard think one person’s death was worse than the tragedy she’d forced on the rest of the kingdom? “If you loved her so much, why did you choose a different side in the war?”

It was her turn to look confused. “I fought for Dreach-Sciene. For your mother. I forsook my sacred vow of neutrality to protect her. What happened later—draining the magic—that was forced upon me.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Can you tell me about her? My father rarely speaks of her… almost as if he wants to forget.”

A smile warmed her dark face. “Marcus Renauld would never forget. A love that strong would not fade. I’ve never seen anyone else like Marissa and Marcus. I helped raise the girl, but your father brought her to life. Even though it was for too short a time. They were beautiful.”

He didn’t ask any more questions after that. Trystan had never completely understood his father. There was a part of the man that had always been closed off, held back. Now he realized that maybe that part died with his mother.

Trystan had very few memories of her. Just the occasional image of a woman who looked very much like Rissa.

Having someone with him who’d known her was almost like having his mother with them, watching them.

As soon as they stopped traipsing across the mountains and found a village, he’d send word to his father. The news about Davi would hurt him as well. He’d loved him as a son from the moment he’d brought him home. But knowing Trystan and Rissa were still okay might bring him some comfort.

That night as the fire thawed the icicles that had grown along his cloak, he sat silently beside his sister. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t move away either.

They’d get through it. Together. And then they’d get their revenge.

Someone was coming.

Trystan swore under his breath as he tried to conceal himself behind the snow-laden tree stump he’d been resting on.

They were almost on top of him. He’d been wallowing so much in his worry over Ri, and his need to be alone for a few minutes to pull his head together that he hadn’t heard them until now. After the attack days before, he should have been on high alert and wanted to kick himself for letting them be found. Again.

Whoever was approaching wasn’t any of his people. He’d left their Eastern camp before sunrise, his dreams still too haunting to allow sleep. These sounds came from the West. Someone else was making their way through the Isenore mountains, and with the way lady luck had been taunting them lately, it was more likely foe than friend.

The sun rose at his back. That was in his favor at least. The shadow cast by the background of trees would hopefully keep him hidden while he observed the newcomers. A few soldiers he could handle if he took them by surprise. Even without Lonara’s help. A regiment was a whole other story.

The quiet neighing of horses and the occasional snapping of a twig were the only signs of their approach, but Trystan’s fingers tapped silently against the hilt of his sword, readying for battle. His heart thumped against his ribs, and he tried to calm his frazzled energy. If Davi were here, he would have made some stupid joke by now to break the tension. But Davi wasn’t here. Ri’s accusatory glare reminded him of that every time she looked his way. His stupid desire for solitude had left him alone in the woods against the unknown, imminent threat. He no longer had his brother to watch his back. That harsh realization only fueled his anger instead of his fright, and he began to hope it was enemy soldiers. Nothing like a battle to take the edge off one’s anger.

It didn’t take long for the horses to make their way through the sea of dead trees. The sun’s rays highlighted the steel blades of two men flanking the women on horseback. The men were soldiers, their uniforms hidden under snow speckled furs, but Trystan swore he caught a glimpse of the Isenore colors, and his grip tightened on his blade. The last group of Isenore soldiers had tried to kill them. This was not looking so good.

He would have attacked already if it weren’t for the women. The young girl and the older matron were no soldiers. He could tell that, even from afar. Their postures in the saddle were perfect, and their furs of the finest quality, despite the well-worn look. Nobles. Trystan stayed hidden a bit longer, his curiosity piqued. What the hell were nobles doing this far up in the mountains?

“Are you sure we are going the right way, Anna?” The older lady’s voice floated through the quiet, the refined tone bringing with it the familiarity of court. No, she definitely was not a soldier.

“Yes, Mother. The aura of magic is waning, no doubt, but it still shows me the way. We are getting closer to the magic wielder. May we stop so I can concentrate?”

The older lady motioned to the soldiers and all four horses came to a halt.

Trystan could hardly believe his eyes as the young girl lowered her cloak and breathed deeply as if she were trying to draw in the magic’s very essence. Understanding set in. This girl was a seer, drawn here by Briggs’ magic. Alarm stiffened his spine. Who was she?

Before he could react, a stealthy form shifted quietly from the shadows at his back and crouched by his side.

“Toha.” Avery’s use of his title was a mere whisper, but Trystan heard the underlining reprimand. She was mad at him for wandering off by himself.

No time to worry about her anger. He pointed to the left flanking soldier, and she nodded, readying her bow. At his urging, Avery let loose an arrow that missed the soldier on purpose and embedded in the tree inches above his head. They reacted quickly, he’d give them that. In the blink of an eye, the soldiers yanked the woman from their horses and boxed them in between themselves and their beasts.

“Show yourselves,” the right soldier growled as he held his blade in Trystan’s direction. The prince had no intention of doing any such thing.

“We are the ones with a bow trained on your women. You don’t make demands on us.”

To his surprise, the older woman stood upright and pushed her way past the soldier’s restraining hand.

“I am Lady Yaro, wife of Hendry Yaro, and mistress of Cullenspire Manor. How dare you take a shot at one of my guards?”

Trystan was more than a little taken aback at her demanding tone. There was no mistaking the sincerity of her words.

“Cullenspire Manor? If memory serves me correctly, that is a vassal in Isenore territory, is it not? And last I heard, Lord Eisner was a traitor to the king. Do you follow the same path, Lady Yaro? For if so, my archers surrounding you at the moment are excellent shots and will not miss.”

“You take me for a fool, boy? That arrow came from where you hide. There are no archers in the trees, just like there are no coins in our purse if you’re aiming to rob us. If you wish for me to answer your question, then stop being a coward and show yourself.”

Trystan scowled but stood upright even as Avery shook her head in disagreement. He motioned for her to stay hidden as he stepped from the shadows, his sword loose in his grip in what he hoped was an unthreatening gesture.

“I’m no bandit, my lady,” he said. “But to reiterate my question, do you follow in Lord Eisner’s footsteps? Are you a traitor to King Marcus Renauld?”

She narrowed her eyes his way. “I don’t know if that’s a trick question or not, boy, for how am I to know if you yourself aren’t an Eisner follower? You have not revealed your identity. But regardless of where your loyalties lie, I have no qualms with telling you where mine do. I am no follower of Lord Eisner.” She spat his name in contempt. “Not only is he a traitor to the king I follow with the deepest of loyalty, but he is also why I stand before you a grieving widow. The reason why my children are left fatherless. The reason my eldest son has already died in the Dreach-Dhoun dungeons and my second son has left home to fight in a war we have little chance of winning. And the reason why I am traipsing through these god-forsaken mountains searching for the few people who may offer us a sliver of hope. Now, if you are indeed a man of Isenore, then step forward and accept your fate. For while I live, I’ll order the execution of every single follower of his that has the misfortune to cross my path.”

Surprise coursed through Trystan, but before he could respond, a disbelieving, “Dona Yaro,” echoed through the trees. Their exchange had drawn the rest of Trystan’s party. Alixa, Edric, and Rissa followed behind Lonara, their weapons drawn and ready, eyeballing the Isenore soldiers with distrust.

“Mistress Lonara?” Shock painted the older lady’s voice as her face paled to match the falling snow. She forgot about Trystan as she stumbled toward the Tri-Gard member, her hand held to her heart like she feared it would jump from her chest and splatter at her feet. “It is really you. When my dearest Anna said she felt a magical disturbance, I knew it had to be one of the Tri-Gard, back to save us. I told my people you would not abandon us forever. Oh my, what a glorious day to have found you. I thought we’d never meet again.”

The old lady fell to her knees as she grabbed Lonara’s hands and raised them to her lips, dropping a kiss on each knuckle. Tears ran down the wrinkled cheeks as Lonara gently pulled the woman back to standing and wiped her tears away. The Tri-Gard’s familiarity and fond smile put Trystan at ease, and he sheathed his weapon.

“It is good to see you as well, old friend. It has been far too long. But your words raise concern. The trail left by the magic is still traceable? I’d feared as much, but hoped it was growing too faint to follow.”

Lady Yaro called to her daughter over her shoulder and the young girl approached, wide-eyed and pale. “Anna, answer the Mistress’s question.”

“It is still traceable, yes, but is growing weaker. We’ve been following it for a few days. It’s why we came. We needed to find you.”

Lonara’s troubled eyes met Trystan’s. “You must pack up camp and make a swift departure.”

Lady Yaro glanced back and forth between the two in puzzlement. “This arrogant bandit is traveling with you?”

Trystan ignored Alixa’s slight snort at the lady’s assumption. Even Lonara’s lips twitched despite her concern. “He is no bandit, Lady Yaro. Let me introduce you to Prince Trystan Renauld and his sister, Princess Rissa.” She waved a hand Rissa’s way, and the girl nodded her head in greeting.

The look of horror on the lady’s face would have been funny if it weren’t for the worrisome news she’d just imparted.

“Prince? Oh, my goodness. Your Highness, I am so sorry.” Her curtsy was awkward with embarrassment. “Please forgive my impertinence. I did not recognize you.”

“No need to apologize, my lady. Your answer to my allegiance question is the most reassuring I’ve heard in quite some time. But Lona is right. We don’t have time to stand here talking. We need to make haste and you need to remove yourselves from our company. It won’t end well for either of you if you are found with us.”

The older lady pulled herself back to full height, regaining her composure once again. “Thank you for your concern, your Highness, but we aren’t going anywhere. Not without what we came here to find. Anna was not only able to feel the magic but also your distress. We came here looking for the Tri-Gard member, but we also came to offer our aid. More will be looking for you. We need to get you back to Cullenspire. It will be the perfect place to hide you, right in the belly of the beast.”

“Why do you offer your help?” Rissa’s unexpected words were as frigid as the mountain air as she stepped out of the shadows of the forest. “You are from Isenore. Why should we trust you?”

“Rissa,” Trystan admonished, and his sister’s icy gaze fell on him.

“What?” she questioned. “It’s not like you aren’t all thinking the same. Alixa, Avery, Edric, do you not all feel the same?”

“I understand your distrust, Princess.” Lady Yaro was the one to answer Rissa. “Yes, I am from Isenore, but my allegiance does not lie with Lord Eisner. On the contrary, there’s nothing more I wish to see than that man’s head rotting on a stake on my manor wall.” Trystan winced at the harsh comment and glanced Alixa’s way, but she seemed impervious to Lady Yaro’s words. “I can feel your sorrow from here. You’ve lost much. So have I, but we can’t let that impede us from doing what we can to fight back. Protecting the Tri-Gard is the first step. Although I’m surprised you slipped up, Lona, and used your magic. You of all people know how dangerous that can be.”

“It wasn’t Lonara,” Trystan supplied, suddenly taking a liking to the straight-shooting Lady Yaro. “It was Briggs who used magic. Although in his defense, he was trying to protect us.”

“Briggs? Briggs Villard?” Lady Yaro’s face lit up. “He is with you as well? Oh my heavens, two Tri-Gard members united? This is glorious news indeed.” She stared around in confusion. “Where is he?”

Trystan groaned as he and the others all realized the same thing. Briggs wasn’t anywhere in sight. “Good Lord, you left Briggs behind? We need to get back to camp right away before he does something moronic like wander off or use magic again.”

Lady Yaro’s eyes sparked in amusement. “Briggs Villard and moronic used together in the same sentence? Glad to see some things never change.”

* * *

“Briggs?” Trystan crouched down beside his still sleeping form. “Wake up, you old fool.”

Alixa walked around to the other side of him and met Trystan’s eye. They’d all had enough of Briggs’ antics on their journey.

“This isn’t funny, Briggs,” she snapped.

“Wish we could just leave him,” Rissa mumbled under her breath.

She wasn’t the first to express the same thought. They didn’t trust the Tri-Gard and for good reason. They were only in this darned mess because of them.

Trystan reached forward to press his frozen hand against Briggs’ cheek, hoping it’d shock him awake.

“Briggs.” His eyes darted around as he moved his hand from the old man’s cheek to his forehead. “He’s burning up.”

Trystan cast a worried glanced back to Lonara, and the woman ran forward.

“Something’s wrong.” He backed away to make room for Lonara.

Lonara looked her fellow Tri-Gard member over. “You need to get him to the healer at Cullenspire. Now.” She gestured to the two guards, and they lifted Briggs onto one of the horses.

Fear spiked in the prince as he took in the pale skin of the man who could help them save the kingdom. What if he didn’t wake?

“Where are you going?” Trystan gripped Lonara’s arm to stop her as she began readying her own horse.

She glanced at Briggs draped across the saddle then shifted her eyes to the prince. “I am going to give you time, my prince. One week should be sufficient for Briggs’ magic to fade away. You will be protected at Cullenspire. I will use my magic to create a new trail that veers off from this one. Hopefully the stronger one will lead any followers away while you all regain your strength.” Her eyes flicked to Rissa. “And deal with your new circumstances.”

“Don’t let Briggs die or we will all follow soon after.”

“Is it wise to use magic again? They will come after you in droves.”

Lonara’s mouth thinned to a grim line. “I’m aware, but we have no choice. You need to get to Cullenspire undetected. Trust me, I can look after myself. I will rejoin you when the time is right.”

Before anyone said another word, she was gone.

There was nothing left to do but follow her directives. Trystan wasn’t convinced it was the right choice, but Lonara was right. It was the only choice.

They rode hard, doubling up on the few horses they had. By the time they finally exited the mountains, Alixa could barely manage to stay balanced in the saddle in front of Trystan. His frozen hands steadied her, and she threw a tiny smile of gratitude back over her shoulder. Traveling through the heart of Isenore had not been easy on any of them, but Trystan could only imagine the torturous memories Isenore had dredged up for Alixa. In response to her smile, his arm tightened on her waist, and she stiffened in surprise under his touch but didn’t pull away. Instead, she glanced back at him with worried eyes.

“Do you think Lona’s plan will work?”

His mind drifted to Lonara. He truly hoped it did. He worried for her but if he were being honest with himself, his worry was more so for the rest of them. Lonara had survived in the mountains for years without their help. She could do so again. He just felt they were safer when she was around. If he had to choose to be left alone with her or Briggs, well, the choice was obvious.

“It will.” He answered back. “Lonara’s right, we need the week to rest and heal. We need to keep the old man alive for this plan to work. Lady Yaro’s healer will know what to do.”

Trystan hoped he sounded far more convincing to Alixa than he felt.

The snow fell heavily as the smoke-spewing chimneys of Cullenspire finally came into view. The manor spread below them on a sea of pristine white, the tidy gables of its rooftop making a dark silhouette against the gray evening sky. Lantern light spilled from every window, a welcoming glow against the frigid wind. The stone walls and gates surrounding it offered a sense of security, unlike the barren mountains and forests they’d left behind. Trystan sighed in relief and commented softly over Alixa’s shoulder.

“After all we’ve been through, is it trivial of me to say I cannot wait to sleep in a real bed again?”

He heard the laughter in her voice. “Not at all. Know what I’m looking forward to the most? A nice, hot, long leisurely bath.”

A flushed of heat-stained Trystan’s cheeks as the image of Alixa relaxing in a steaming tub filled his mind. This was not the time or place for such foolish thoughts. To cover his unease, he lifted his chin Rissa’s way. His sister rode ahead, her back stiff with anger, ignoring Edric’s attempts to talk to her. Ignoring everyone.

“Maybe that’s what she needs. A bit of normalcy to bring her back around.”

Alixa’s gaze shifted to Rissa and her voice filled with sadness. “Give her time to overcome her grief, Trystan.”

Alixa was right. But time was not a luxury any of them could afford right now. He needed his sister back. But she was nowhere to be found, and Trystan was deathly afraid she might be gone forever.

 A pair of burly soldiers met them as the gates opened, toothless grins indicative of how relieved they were to see their mistress again. Lady Yaro called down to them as they rode by. “We need the healer immediately. If he’s in his bed, wake him.” They moved instantly to do her bidding.

More servants exited the manor to greet them as they pulled up in front of the oversized, grand doors. Lady Yaro turned to the guard riding with Briggs’ unconscious form. “Take him to the healer’s workshop right away. We will check on him as soon as we are settled.”

The guard slid down and two other men ran forward to help carry Briggs away.

Trystan dismounted and helped Alixa do the same before turning to follow the guards and Briggs, but a servant’s message to Lady Yaro stopped him.

“I’m glad to see you back, Mistress. A visitor arrived from Whitecap this morning. A messenger of Lord Coille. He says it’s important but refused to speak to anyone but you, so he awaits inside under watch.”

Lord Coille sent a messenger? A cold shiver passed over Trystan and it didn’t have anything to do with the icy wind at their backs. Lady Yaro must have felt the same, for she jumped down and strode anxiously toward the grand house.

Trystan handed his reins to one of the waiting young stable hands and followed Lady Yaro up the marble steps to the double oak doors without hesitation. She threw them open and swept into the massive hall, pinning a terrified maid with her demanding stare.

“The messenger who arrived this morning. Where is he?”

“In… in the study, my lady.”

With no consideration for their snow-covered boots, Lady Yaro marched over the fine floors and around the corner to the end of the hall. A guard standing outside the door at the end of the corridor came to attention at her presence and opened the door. Lady Yaro paused and glanced back at Trystan.

“I would appreciate it if you would accompany me, your Highness, as this is surely news of the kingdom, but perhaps we should do this alone?”

Trystan shook his head. “I hide nothing from my companions, my lady. They are privy to everything. No room for secrets.”

She tilted her head in acknowledgment of his decision. “As you wish.”

The young man shot to his feet as soon as they piled into the room, his weary face a testament to his arduous journey. His eyes darted over all of them in puzzlement before finally settling on the older woman. She stepped his way.

“I am Lady Yaro. My guards tell me you’ve come with a message?”

“Yes, my lady. But Lord Coille said it was meant for your ears alone….” He trailed off as his attention flitted about the room.

“No worries, young sir. You are free to speak in front of everyone here.”

He swallowed hard before nodding and stepping out from behind his chair. He held a wool cap in his hands, which he twisted into a knot of nervousness. Trystan’s stomach knotted in the exact same manner.

“Something has happened, my lady. Something bad. Lord Coille has received word that King Marcus is dead. Murdered in his own bedchamber by an agent of King Calis.”

It took Trystan only a moment to track the whispered NO to his pale-faced sister. Her eyes met his, oozing pain and disbelief. Proof of what his mind refused to consider as truth. Trystan should have moved towards her. He should have offered her his strength, but in that moment, he wasn’t sure he had an ounce of strength left. The words ricocheted through his mind, refusing to grab hold.

His head shook of its own accord. His father was the grandest man he’d ever known. He couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t possible.

Rissa turned and ran from the room, from him, the silence left behind echoing with her footsteps.

“Ri,” he whispered in dismay as the pain stabbed into him. His father was gone. The man he’d looked up to his entire life. The man who’d felt like he’d always be there to guide him, to protect him, to love him.

You are to be a symbol of hope.

He’d said those words, changing Trystan’s entire world. He wasn’t just a protector of his people’s lives, but of their very souls. But who would protect his now that his father was gone?

Dead.

Forever.

Just like Davion.

Just like his mother.

A single tear tracked down his face as he lifted his eyes to the grieving subjects who waited in anticipation for his reaction. Avery stepped up beside him, her head bowed and her face damp.

“Murdered in his bedroom.” Anger tainted her words. “He deserved better.”

Trystan didn’t look at her. He didn’t look at anyone as he paced further into the room. “He deserved to die of old age with my mother still by his side. But none of us get what we deserve. We take what Calis Bearne gives us.” An unexpected wave of rage exploded in his heart, ripping through his body like jagged lightning. He lashed out at the nearest object, a footstool that careened into the wall and shattered into a thousand splinters. “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

Running his hands over his face, he breathed deeply through his nose, trying to calm himself down. The others didn’t need to see this loss of control. Reining in his anger, he dropped his hands, expecting to be met with gazes of shock or fear. Instead, he watched in puzzlement as Avery went down on one knee.

“And I will be by your side, your Majesty. For King Marcus and the people he loved.”

Your Majesty. The title sounded foreign. It wasn’t supposed to be his. Not yet.

When Edric, Lady Yaro, and Alixa also kneeled, he wanted to tell them to rise, but the gesture rooted him in place. As much as his heart craved revenge, as much as he desired to spill Calis’ blood, he realized one thing. It wasn’t only about him and the dark king anymore. It was about each and every person who’d been affected.

And he was now their king.

A chilling chant fell from their lips.

“The King is dead. Long live King Trystan.”