by Elise Kova
“You idiot.” She rolled her eyes. “Later. For now, just don’t die.”
That was one order Craig had no qualms in following as he fell into step and fond harmony fighting alongside his mentor.
18. Daniel
He’d lost Craig in the fray. For an exhausted man with one gimp leg and a stink that left a near-visible trail through the air, the fact was damn near impressive.
Daniel gave one more sweep of the battlefield, but couldn’t distinguish his Southerner from any of the other Imperialists amid the attack. Which meant there was only one thing left for him to do. His fingers closed around the pommel of his sword.
There was a certain serenity that could be found in the vibration of steel through the bones in his arm. It shot straight between his ears and buzzed against his thoughts. Daniel didn’t thrive off the field as some did; his sword was simply a means to an end. But that end was Willow—their future—and he fought for everything they would need to be comfortable for the rest of their lives.
His sword punctured the chest of the first enemy that descended on him, the first of many blood taxes he’d collect before the night was through.
Daniel withdrew his sword with a swish through the air. Blood arced off in rivulets, spattering the ground and the face of two more Northerners advancing on him. Marked for death, he thought grimly.
A woman lunged for him and Daniel knew instantly she was the more skilled of the two. Her bladework was impeccable, and she fought with a fearlessness that only came from well-earned confidence. Daniel danced around the dual blades with all the swiftness he still possessed.
There was no shame in admitting when you were bested in battle. In fact, that was how most soldiers stayed alive for so long, he’d discovered. Heroes died. Strategists survived.
Step by step, blow by blow, Daniel spun and ducked around his advancing opponents. With a side shuffle, he could work his way around to see the rest of the fray. Imperial soldiers were being divided into two core groups. Which meant…
Daniel shifted from defense to offense. Catching the woman’s blade with the pommel of his sword, he pushed off and in, engaging her more closely than he had before. The woman had height on him, so Daniel knew that close proximity would make her struggle.
A familiar rumble rose up from the inner forest, closest to Soricium on the burnt stretch. Daniel began running in its direction. The two he’d been fending off were on him with a shout and a snarl. At the last moment, he banked right.
The cavalry burst through the tree line and into the field between the two groups of infantry. Daniel dodged the first horse with a jump and roll to the side. The two better soldiers at his heels were lost to the hooves and poles of the mounted soldiers.
At the front of the line, sword in hand, white cape billowing behind him in the firelight, was the man Daniel and Craig had been seeking since the start. The Golden Prince, youngest son of the Empire, Prince Baldair led the charge with a shout: “Down and around, cut them off at the woods!”
The prince made some motions corresponding with his orders, punctuating them all with a quick stab of his sword at some unfortunate soul below.
“Misha, take your group and survey the signal we spotted—”
My signal, Daniel realized.
“—Bring extras to engage the fray there.”
“Sir, my prince,” Daniel hastily corrected, “there is no fray where the signal was set.”
The prince looked around a moment, confounded by the source of the voice. His eyes swept over Daniel twice until, on the third pass, Daniel gave a stiff salute. It was the first time royalty so much as breathed in his direction, and he did not want to ruin his first impression… if he hadn’t already done so by going rogue and setting the forest on fire.
“Who are you?” the prince asked.
“Daniel Taffl, sir. Swords, under Major Raylynn, sir.”
“Major Raylynn?” Prince Baldair spurred his horse over to Daniel. “What are you doing here? Did you desert your post? What news of Raylynn?” The prince asked all his questions in a single breath, leaving Daniel to filter out what was the most important among them.
Daniel decided to focus on the one thing that made the prince’s questioning voice sound truly strained. “When I left at her orders, sir, Major Raylynn was well. She sent Craig Youngly and me on a mission to deliver a letter to you. During this time, we discovered news of this attack. I sent the signal to warn the main host, then set the forest ablaze...for good measure, sir.”
He had to shout over the sounds of swords clashing and trees crackling, but the prince seemed to focus only on what Daniel had to say, allowing the other cavalry to run protection for a moment. With Daniel’s tidy speech concluded, the prince permitted himself a brief survey of his surrounds before suddenly snapping back to Daniel.
“You were the one who gave the signal?”
“I was.” Daniel swallowed hard. His throat had gone to dust.
The prince’s silence ticked away the longest seconds of Daniel’s life. When the golden-haired man spoke again, it was with a grin.
“Stay with me, Daniel. You did say your name was Daniel, right?”
He nodded, disbelieving.
“Stay with me then through this fray. I wish to speak to you, but first, we must do battle.”
The prince was a little too gleeful as he twirled his sword through the night air. Daniel redrew his blade as well, adding the slightest flourish. He would not see the royal outdone, but if he was fighting next to the Golden Prince himself, he could afford a bit of flair.
The two re-joined the fray as dawn broke over the treetops.
19. Craig
A steaming cup of tea was placed between his palms in a manner that indicated there was no room for discussion on the matter. Unlike the others he’d choked down at the cleric’s insistence, there was no herbal tang to sizzle his nose. Craig looked up, still in an exhausted daze from recounting his tale of what brought him to a bench in the camp palace of Soricium.
“Just tea.” Raylynn sat on a bench opposite his own. “Thought you could use something straight to wash down all those potions.”
“Thank you.” Craig lifted the cup to his lips tiredly and took a long drink. It barely had any taste at all—was likely nothing more than jungle leaves steeped in a boiling pot. But at war, the shack they were in was a palace, the clerics making due with rudimentary tinctures were alchemists, and water perfumed with mysterious greens was tea.
“A noru cat, huh?” Raylynn arched her eyebrows, referencing the long explanation Craig had just given her of the events that had led him back to Soricium.
“That was not my fault.”
“You were the highest in command,” she chastised. “Everything is your fault.” Raylynn gave a soft laugh as the words hit Craig square in the chest, deflating his sails. “But I think, given the wound you endured for it… Well, the Mother has already offered her punishment for your foolishness.”
He knew all was forgiven then, and laid to rest his fears of losing his chance at a golden bracer. Craig stared at his leg, slowly being bandaged in the cleanest looking gauze he’d ever seen—though his main point of reference was Daniel’s soiled shirt.
Daniel.
“Did you see Daniel on the field?” Craig asked suddenly.
“I did not.” Raylynn’s mouth set into a grim line. She no more liked the idea of losing Daniel than he did. At the start of his journey, the fact had made Craig a right ass to the Easterner. Now, he was bonding with his mentor over it.
“Well, then…” Craig floundered for words. Before him was the opportunity to make his contributions to warning the army in the battle the night prior known. He had the attention of his mentor all to himself. And all Craig could think of was if his friend had made it out of the battle alive. “I suppose—” He was interrupted by the doors opening.<
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Daniel looked as relieved to see Craig as he was Daniel. The lieutenant instinctually moved to get to his feet.
“Stay down,” the cleric scolded.
“Glad to see you made it,” Daniel said after a moment, starting for the small corner of bench not occupied by Craig’s sprawling form.
“No need to stand,” said another voice, clearly mistaking Craig’s instinct to rise for the sake of greeting Daniel as protocol in the face of royalty.
Craig was always a little dumbstruck in the presence of the prince. He’d met Baldair before, a few times actually, around Raylynn. But there was something about seeing him in the flesh, and right in front of him, that gave Craig rightful pause. The Golden Prince could make the hovel of haphazard walls and uneven ceiling look positively regal.
“Sir.” Craig stood as straight as possible.
“Just Baldair is fine.” The prince waved away the formality, just as Craig had done to Daniel. The parallel stilled him and Craig fought not to look to his friend. “I’ve seen you with Ray enough times to know that you’re one of her favorites.”
The prince’s eyes strayed to the lounging figure of the woman herself. Raylynn, all limbs, sprawled across the benches and tables like a spool of silk tossed to the wind and left to unravel. She gave him a coy smile that was eagerly returned.
“What mischief have you made?” Baldair asked her, taking one notable step into her personal space. There was that odd familiarity between the two of them, the bane of every eligible bachelor and bachelorette in the Empire.
“This mischief is not my doing, but Jax’s.” The elegant curve of her mouth bent uncomfortably into a frown. “Mischief that almost got my most favorite protégé killed.”
“Protégé?”
Raylynn motioned to Craig, whose chest nearly burst from pride. Most favorite. The words spun in his mind like a cheerfully painted top.
“Tell Jax to play with his own toys, and stay away from mine,” Raylynn finished. Craig’s ego was instantly put back in check.
The mention of the sorcerer brought Craig’s hand to his side in a panic. Through it all, the fold of leather he’d tied to his chest had remained. Craig shifted and shuffled, wiggling it free. Carefully, he unfolded it and presented the still-sealed missive to the prince.
“Baldair—” Daniel must have rubbed off on him, as it was suddenly hard to not use formalities. “—My prince, I was tasked with bringing this to you.”
The prince crossed the narrow room in three wide steps. With a shake of his head Craig felt wasn’t directed at him, he set to opening the letter. Whatever it contained was not very long, as he’d read it twice in a few seconds.
“Really?” The prince looked back to Raylynn, who couldn’t seem to contain her laughter.
“Well, I think this all spiraled well beyond his intentions.” She spoke through giggles. “But it would have been amusing.”
“Why do I keep you both in my Guard?” Baldair folded the paper and threw it onto a far table where it did a small spin, half the folds coming undone.
“Truly a good question, prince.”
“It wasn’t a total loss.” Baldair turned to Daniel and, in that moment, Craig saw the look of pride and interest he’d been wanting to see for years… directed at another soldier. He didn’t want to let the sudden deluge of jealousy threaten to wash away the good will Daniel had earned. But, the more the prince spoke, the harder it became. “We knew about that attack, thanks to you, Daniel.”
“It was nothing, sir.”
“Baldair,” the prince corrected. Craig aimed a side-eye at his friend that went unnoticed. Really, the man was stubborn if he was clinging to titles after the prince had instructed him otherwise. “And it was something. Father estimated the casualties could’ve been double if they’d caught us in our beds.”
“What happened?” Raylynn’s brow knitted the way it always did when she was presented with a puzzle.
When Craig had given her his report, he’d left a gap. A small, insignificant gap surrounding the signal fire and who actually lit it. It now seemed Prince Baldair would give detail to Craig’s glossed over recount. He could’ve set off that signal fire if it weren’t for his leg. He could’ve been the one to warn the army.
It should have been me.
“His swordsmanship shows that same cleverness,” Raylynn praised Daniel brightly, as though it were only her and Baldair in the room.
“I saw that first hand in the scuffle earlier.”
This couldn’t be happening. Craig had been eager to take this mission because he’d wanted the opportunity to shine before the prince. He had taken Daniel to prevent him further earning Raylynn’s admiration. Now, he’d done the opposite on all counts.
“Though, I would like to see more of this clever swordsmanship.” The prince turned to Daniel; Craig may as well have not even existed. “Come to the training grounds with me?”
“You’re relentless,” Raylynn groaned. “Did we not just finish a battle?”
“Perfect time to test the true strength of a metal is when it would be at its most brittle.”
“Who did you steal that line from?” Raylynn stood without being asked, following Daniel’s lead.
“I thought of it myself.”
“You can’t think yourself out of a burlap sack.” There were certain things only Raylynn could get away with when it came to the prince.
“Terribly harsh, Ray. Is that any way to treat me after we’ve been apart for so long?” Baldair’s chuckle followed him out the door, Raylynn close behind.
Daniel lingered a moment, hovering in the doorframe. His lips parted briefly.
Craig pointedly looked away from him. After their journey together, he no longer had the luxury of hating Daniel, and wanting to was now all the harder. When Craig was finally composed enough to force himself to congratulate his friend, he brought his eyes back to the shutting of the door—closing not just on the now empty room, but on his singular dream and aspiration.
20. Daniel
Craig had been avoiding him, of that much he was certain.
The man was transparent as glass and as easy to read as a children’s primer. Daniel knew from the moment Baldair had walked in singing his praises that it was only a matter of time until Craig began to sting. “A matter of time” proved a mere instant, the sting far more dire than what plagued his injured leg.
It had been almost a month since their return to Soricium. Raylynn “couldn’t be bothered” to go back and find her battalion, putting every faith in her second to lead in her stead. The woman was certainly a unique force. After discovering her own information on the Northern army, she’d raced after Craig and Daniel to join them on their journey to the Northern capital, fully expecting to catch up.
Even though she’d left only a day after them, she was, of course, unable to meet them. For a woman who cared about so little, the fact that she would take extra time tracking through the jungle alone in search of her wayward pupil spoke volumes.
The fact said something to Craig as well, because Raylynn was the only one who could seem to find him. Daniel would ask her, whenever their paths crossed, but by the time he arrived at the spot she claimed to have last seen Craig, the man would have vanished. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was by design. Daniel had no idea how he’d curried any favor with Raylynn, but he well knew that favor didn’t extend over Craig’s.
The day before they were to return to the South, Daniel set out to scour the camp on his own. If he would have any chance of hunting Craig down, he’d need to do it himself. And, while he would usually respect a person’s wishes at all costs—and especially a superior’s wishes—this was one time he needed a moment, even if a moment wasn’t something Craig wanted to give.
Daniel finally found the blonde haired man helping load carts for the few noble sick who would be transpor
ted back to better care in the Southern Capital. It was a luxury not everyone had earned, or could afford.
“Your leg looks better.” Daniel appreciated the startle Craig gave at his voice. It affirmed two things: that he had, indeed, been avoiding him, and that Craig had no idea Daniel set out to hunt him down this morning.
Craig turned, and it was no surprise where his gaze fell. “Your arm, too.”
Daniel touched the golden band that circled his forearm. “Baldair gave it to me last night.”
“I heard.” Craig hauled a particularly heavy basket onto the cart. “You’ve dropped ‘sir’ and ‘prince,’ I see.”
“Walk with me?” Daniel wanted to be straightforward before tensions could escalate to outright hostilities.
“I’m fairly busy here,” Craig mumbled.
Daniel looked purposefully down at the one sack Craig had left to load. When the other man didn’t move, Daniel lifted it with a small sigh, throwing it onto the cart. Clerical supplies were surprisingly heavy.
“Looks like you just finished up.”
Craig stared at him, searching, internal debate clear across his face. “Fine. What is it?”
“Raylynn tells me that after you return to the Capital for the Festival of the Sun, you won’t be marching on another tour?” Daniel relayed the one bit of information Raylynn had divulged—the part that seemed most pertinent to the situation.
“I’m done with fighting.” Craig shrugged as if that would help sell a lie so poorly constructed, it barely rang with the slightest peel of truth. “I’ll return home, become a hunter.”
“A hunter,” Daniel repeated with marked amusement.
“What’s so funny?”
“Given your showing with the noru cat, I find it difficult to imagine you hunting anything at all.”
“That is hardly a good example.” Craig folded his arms over his chest and Daniel gave up on the subject before he risked truly upsetting his companion.
“I was hoping you’d come on another tour.”