“Let’s get your wounds looked after so you can get some food and go to bed.”
Taking his right hand, she helped him up. For once in his life, Kaden was too tired to think about food… not that he would refuse it.
Beside him, Marcus pushed himself into a sitting position, hissing out a breath.
“What are you doing?” Kyrin asked him.
“I should go to the sleeping quarters so someone else can have this cot.”
“Not without help, you’re not,” Kyrin said, sounding amusingly like their mother.
Jace came up behind her. “I’ll help him.”
She smiled and nodded, and Jace helped Marcus stand. As the two left the infirmary, Kyrin led Kaden to a table, where Leetra waited. He sat down in a chair, and they helped him get his armor and shirt off, which he would have been more than happy to leave on considering the pain it caused to remove them. Looking at his bare shoulder, he found it had turned an interesting shade of blue and purple.
“I’ll make sure it’s not broken,” Leetra said.
Before he could protest, she took his arm in her hands. For someone so petite, one would have expected a light and gentle touch, but no. Her fingers practically dug into his arm and the bruising. He clamped his teeth together, fighting a groan, but it forced its way out. Finally, he pulled away from her, clutching his throbbing arm to his chest.
“It’s fine. Just bruised and was dislocated.”
She gave him an irritable look, but he wasn’t about to let her continue her painful probing.
They moved on to his burns next, which wasn’t much more pleasant, and then helped him slip into a fresh shirt. When Kyrin lifted a sling for his arm, he stopped her.
“Help me get my armor back on first.”
“You shouldn’t do any more fighting with that arm.”
“It’s fine,” Kaden insisted.
“Well, at least get some rest first. You can put it on in the morning.”
He wanted to argue, but Talas appeared, cutting him off.
“Being stubborn with you too, is he?”
A little hint of a smile came to Kyrin’s face. “Yes. Would you please see that he eats and gets to bed?”
Talas grinned. “My turn to babysit again.”
Kaden rolled his eyes. He had to admit, though, that it would be nice to go without the armor for a while.
Kyrin tied his arm up in the sling, which helped immensely, and then he rose to follow Talas. Before he left, Kyrin touched his arm.
“Rest well.” She smiled, but her face grew more serious and her eyes a little teary. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
Any irritation with his situation melted. “Me too,” he murmured.
Jace helped Marcus to his cot next to Kaden and Liam’s empty ones, supporting his weight as he sat down slowly.
“Need anything else?” he asked once Marcus was settled.
Marcus breathed out a long breath and shook his head. “No, thank you.”
Jace backed away, but Marcus stopped him, “We haven’t had a chance to say much since the other night, but I’m glad you feel the way you do about Kyrin.”
“Really?” It was one thing to have Kyrin’s brothers be happy for them, but that Marcus was actually glad about their relationship meant a lot.
Marcus nodded. “I wouldn’t trust many men with her, but I trust you.”
Jace took this with a deep sense of gratitude. He would do everything in his power never to violate that trust. “Thank you.”
Marcus smiled, and Jace left him feeling remarkably content.
When he returned to the infirmary, things had quieted down. Kyrin waited there to look at the cut to his head, courtesy of a knee to the forehead when a soldier had knocked him down at one point. Thankfully, he’d had enough allies around to help him back up.
He sat down near a table, and Kyrin wet a cloth, dabbing the blood from his face. Her fingers were gentle as she brushed back his hair and cleaned the wound near his hairline. It hardly even hurt. A little smile came to his lips.
“What?” she asked.
“You’ve done this before, back in Mernin.”
Opposite of his, Kyrin’s face grew somber. He’d been in much worse condition then.
“That was horrible.”
Clearly the memory was difficult for her, but not so much for him.
“It wasn’t so bad.”
She stopped and stared at him, her brows raised. “You could barely stand up, let alone breathe. It was horrible.”
Jace shrugged as she focused back on his wound. He wouldn’t make light of it. Still, that moment had changed things for him.
“That’s when I first noticed you as more than a friend.”
She looked down into his eyes again. “You felt that way all this time?”
Jace nodded, and now he sobered. “I should have told you.” Prolonging it had only made him miserable, and perhaps her as well at times.
But Kyrin shook her head with a gentle smile. “Everything has its time. You needed to figure out your relationship with Elôm before thinking about one with me.”
His gaze glued to her face, he marveled over her. Blushing under his intent staring, she went back to work. Still, Jace watched her, thinking her lovely in every way.
When she finished, she asked, “Do you have any more injuries that need to be tended?”
He shook his head, not mentioning the sore bruises to his shoulder and back from the sword blow. “None that won’t heal themselves.”
“You should get some rest then.”
Jace stood. As always, it was hard to leave her, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself awake. Taking her hand, he squeezed it gently before leaving the infirmary.
Timothy smiled at Kyrin and Jace’s interaction. He couldn’t think of a better match after all they had been through together. Jace was smart for making his feelings known before he lost his chance.
Timothy sighed.
“Do you want me to look at your arm?”
He jumped at the voice, meeting Leetra’s gaze. His thoughts scattered like shattering glass. She stared up at him, her eyes so large and bright. Such a beautiful, unique shade of lavender, and, at the moment, snapping with impatience as he slowly processed her words.
“Oh, yes.” He glanced down at his bloodstained sleeve. “Thank you.”
He followed her. If only he could blame his poor response time on exhaustion, but it was more than that. He scolded himself.
She went to work, removing his bracer and rolling his sleeve up to reveal a deep cut to his left arm. “Looks like I’ll have to stitch it.”
She worked efficiently and was focused, not speaking. She offered nothing in the way of encouragement for his internal struggle. He watched her slender brown hands expertly clean and stitch the wound. As she finished tying off the bandage, Timothy moved almost without thinking and rested his hand over hers. Her skin was so soft and warm under his rough palm. She stilled.
Slowly, he looked up and met her eyes. Her steely external shell was gone, revealing her innermost shock and confusion. She stared at him, completely disarmed. Timothy’s heart pounded, yearning for some small signal that his feelings, whatever they were, would be welcome.
Leetra jerked her eyes away, breaking the trance, and pulled her hand from his. The shield was back in place—hard and emotionless. Without looking at him, she gathered her supplies and strode away.
Timothy sighed again and rubbed his forehead. He shouldn’t be so disappointed. What had he expected? All he knew was that something had happened to him when he’d come upon her crying last winter. He’d seen something in her—something soft, vulnerable, wounded—that most people probably didn’t know existed. She had her pride and stubbornness for sure, but underneath it was more. He thought it was only compassion he felt, but when he had left for Dorland last winter, she came to his mind strangely often, especially after meeting her family. After returning to Landale, she caught his at
tention more than anyone he had ever met, confusing him. A frustrating predicament when he was used to being so sure of things. He shook his head to himself. Lord, it’s Your will and Your desires I seek, not my own. Confusion is not from You. Give me clarity, wisdom, and direction. Whatever it is You want of me, that is what I desire.
A hand clasped Timothy’s shoulder, and Aaron stepped around in front of him, his expression sympathetic. “You gonna be all right?”
Timothy looked at him, understanding that his brother didn’t refer to his arm. “I’ll be fine.”
“I think it’s about time we got some rest.”
Timothy agreed. He hadn’t been this tired since he had worked for Harold back in Dunlow. Rising, he followed Aaron out of the infirmary. At the door, he glanced back, catching eyes with Leetra. She held them for only a moment before turning her back to him.
Kyrin rubbed her sore, sleep-deprived eyes and filled a fresh basin of water. Only a few more soldiers waited for someone to tend them.
“Kyrin.”
She turned to Josef’s kindly smile.
“Why don’t you take your brother and you both get some sleep?” He nodded to Liam, who hadn’t ceased working with them since he had come in.
“Are you sure you don’t need me?”
Josef gave her a firm nod. “Leetra will be here for a while. We’ll manage. You go on.”
Kyrin turned to take off the bloodstained apron she wore, relief settling. She had seen so much pain and so many injuries throughout the day.
“Your brother impresses me,” Josef said when Kyrin turned back to him. He was watching Liam across the room. “He’s been a big help. I’d say he has a knack for this.”
Kyrin stared at Liam. He had never displayed a talent for any unique skill set before. “Really?”
“Yes. When he’s working with the wounded, you can see the shared pain and compassion, but it doesn’t paralyze him as it might some. He works very calmly. I’d like to work with him more if there is ever the opportunity.”
Kyrin continued to stare at Liam. He had been brought up and trained as a soldier, against his nature. What if healing people was what he had been called to do all along?
Morning. Dread settled inside Jace, weighing down his already heavy limbs. Soldiers filed out into the inky predawn, their expressions determined and hard, but not quite hiding the bone-deep weariness in their bloodshot eyes. Every morning Jace and the others gathered in the courtyard felt more and more as if it would be their last day. Parting grew harder too, the emotions difficult to contain when one was so tired.
The hardest part for Jace was Kyrin’s struggle. She fought so hard to be brave, but this morning she looked fragile enough to crumble at the slightest touch. Even so, when she was near, she gripped his hand tightly as if meaning to keep him here with her. How deeply he wanted to stay, but Elôm controlled their destiny, and if it was his to die in battle, he had to face it. So, with a whispered, “I love you,” they parted again.
Up on the wall, the men took their places on the blood-spattered stones, half their force focused to the left, and half to the right. Jace studied their ranks. They were thinner today. He could only hope and pray that Arcacia’s would be too, but in all likelihood, fresh soldiers had filled the ranks on the wall overnight.
Though still in its scabbard, Jace rested his hand on his sword, waiting. The eastern sky hinted of sunlight, and the dragons already circled overhead. He flexed his fingers anxiously and looked over at Rayad. Where would he be if the man had never found him? Probably still a gladiator if he hadn’t gone through with his plan to die in the arena or just killed himself. How hard would he have been by now?
“I never think enough of how incredible it was for you to see me fighting in the arena and then come upon me when you did. Or what it took for you to free me, knowing I could kill you.”
Rayad turned a little to face him. “Did you consider it? Killing me?”
Jace shook his head, thinking back to that first night alone with Rayad and those that followed. “No. I thought about stealing Niton, but I never would have killed you.”
Rayad smiled. “I didn’t think so.”
In a short time, the first sliver of the sun peeked over the horizon. Where was Arcacia’s attack? Not even the firedrakes had made an appearance yet. The men were growing antsy, but the Arcacian camp seemed still. What were they up to now? What new and unpleasant surprise would they bring today? A warning of danger crawled along Jace’s skin. He didn’t dare hope that the army had given up.
Oppressive silence reigned. The sun grew higher until it was a full, golden globe above the distant mountains. The men murmured, some hopeful while others shared Jace’s suspicion of something sinister at work.
Just when their confusion was at its height, a dragon glided down toward the wall.
“My lord!”
Jace recognized Captain Darq’s voice. King Balen came forward to meet the crete as he landed in an open spot nearby. Trask and the others drew closer to hear the news.
“My lord, a large force is coming from the northwest,” Darq reported, his face grave. “They march under the banners of Arcacia.”
Like the ominous rumbling of thunder, dread rolled through them as they absorbed the implications of this news. It could only mean their forces in Amberin had failed. Their chance of victory was destroyed. Jace’s heart sank. They had fought too hard for this. Surely Elôm intended them to have victory… didn’t He? Jace reached out to Him, but it didn’t change the fact that they now had enemy forces on both sides.
“There was another banner at the front,” Darq said, “not of Arcacia. I couldn’t get close because they are escorted by firedrakes, but it appeared to be the colors of Samara with a white lily.”
Balen’s eyes grew wide, and he looked at General Mason. “That’s the queen’s banner.”
Balen strode toward his waiting horse with General Mason at his side. What was Queen Rhosin doing at the head of the Arcacian invaders? None of the answers that presented themselves were good ones. If she had done what he was afraid she had . . .
He gritted his teeth and mounted his tall, bay gelding. The guards at the gate opened it just enough to let him and his general ride through. A couple hundred yards ahead, a group of Arcacian riders awaited under the parley flag. He glanced up. Most of the dragons had landed, lined up on the walls surrounding the keep, but a couple—Captain Darq, Talas, and Kaden—circled overhead as a precaution.
Drawing closer to the gathering, Balen recognized General Veshiron’s daunting form. He must have taken a firedrake to Amberin after their meeting with him three days ago. And next to him, on a roan mare, sat the queen, her burgundy, gold, and white banner fluttering over her head. As they closed the distance, he could more clearly make out her features—dark, reddish hair with wisps of gray, and a hard, lined face. The very essence of a strong, capable woman. He couldn’t recall a single memory of her smiling. She sat astride her horse, clothed in rich linen of deep blue and burgundy hues, a golden circlet holding back her long, loose hair. She didn’t look like a prisoner, adding to Balen’s suspicions.
He reined his horse a few feet away from the other riders.
“King Balen,” General Veshiron said, his face smug with a lack of respect.
Balen ignored him, locking eyes with Rhosin. “What is the meaning of this?”
In the cold, unfeeling tone she always used with him, she answered, “I’ve surrendered Samara.”
Balen’s eyes slid closed. She had. They popped open again as his anger rose to the surface. “How could you do that?”
“For the people,” Rhosin snapped. “I’ll not see them slaughtered needlessly.”
Balen looked out at the force that had come from Amberin. It was large, yes, but nothing his men couldn’t have handled, prepared as they were.
“We could have held them back.”
Rhosin gave him a look of disgust, as if he had no knowledge of what he spoke. She had never
viewed him as a competent leader. “For how long? Do you not think the emperor would have struck at us again, only harder? How many men are you willing to sacrifice?”
“We could have trusted Elôm to protect us and give us victory as He has in the past.”
“And you think He would have spared the lives of our soldiers?”
Balen dug his fingers into the leather of the reins at her mocking tone. No wonder Samara had fallen so far if even she was so quick to dismiss the hand of Elôm. “If it was His will, yes.”
The queen scoffed. “You are a fool and have no business leading our people.”
Such venom stunned Balen, rendering him speechless. He wanted nothing but the best for their people. Couldn’t she see that? He had never asked to be king. He had never even wanted it, but he had bowed to King Alton’s wishes and accepted the position as a way to serve and protect his country. Now, because of the queen undermining him at every turn, he had failed.
The moment of silence gave General Veshiron the chance to speak. “Surrender the fortress and I will allow your people, including your soldiers, to live. If you refuse, the siege will continue until you are either annihilated or starved out. It’s your choice. I suggest you choose wisely.”
The gravity of the decision seemed to suck away all the air around Balen. His country’s capital was now under enemy control while he, half his army, and their allies found themselves trapped inside their own keep. What choice did he have?
“The emperor promised us peaceful lives if we cooperate and submit to his rule,” Rhosin told him.
For a woman of such pride, he couldn’t believe she was going along with this. “You’ve been in contact with Daican?”
“Yes.”
A horrible realization suddenly struck Balen. “Did you tell him of our plans?”
Rhosin stiffened as if caught, but tipped her chin up. “I did what I had to in order to save the lives of my people.”
Balen breathed hard, fighting to control his raging thoughts. How could she have done this? Did she have any idea of the misery this would bring them? His voice shook. “You’ve brought down our country and handed it over to a tyrant. You betrayed our people.”
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