“Where do you think you’re going?” his father practically roared.
Daniel looked back. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go and find out more about this Elôm so many are willing to die for.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Or what?”
The only answer he received was his father’s threatening glare. After all, the only alternative his father had was to have him executed too. Daniel shook his head. He was done with this conversation. Yanking open the door, he stalked to his room, swearing to himself that he’d die before he’d let his father turn him into the sort of man he was.
Jace stood at the fire, but the warmth wouldn’t penetrate the coldness that had settled inside him when they’d met Tane in the city and learned the news. His mind kept going back to that moment and the utter devastation on Kyrin’s face. Telling her was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.
He looked to where she and Kaden sat alone at the far edge of camp. Though he could not hear her anymore, every so often her body shook with sobs. To see her in such agony tore him up inside. He would never forget the pain of losing Kalli and Aldor—the way it had crushed his will to live, sucking any hope of joy out of him. Had he the power, he would have spared Kyrin such pain at any cost. If only he could take it and bear it himself. He’d gladly suffer in her place.
Weight built in his chest until he found it difficult to breathe, and he turned away to seek a moment of solitude. He walked over to the dragons and pressed his icy hands against Gem’s warm scales. The dragon gave a mournful whine. He glanced at her, but hung his head. His eyes burned and filled with moisture. If ever he wanted to cry, it was now, but he didn’t know if he was able. Why hadn’t he done something? He’d known something wasn’t right—he’d felt it. The only reason he’d joined this mission was to protect Kyrin, but he’d failed to protect her from the greatest pain of all.
Heat seeped and twisted its way through his veins from the fire growing inside him. His eyes slid to Gem’s saddle. It was too late to make things right, but he could fly down and stop Daican from ever taking another innocent life again. The burn engulfing his chest awakened his fighting instincts. After all, if he succeeded, how many lives would it spare in the future? How much better off would Arcacia be? He wrapped his fingers around his sword.
But a smaller, quieter admonition settled amongst the heat. It would be wrong, and the regret that followed would consume him. He would despise himself. But Kyrin deserved to have her father avenged. He closed his eyes against the conflict.
“Jace.”
He flinched and looked up, blinking to focus on Rayad.
“Are you all right?”
Jace’s voice remained trapped for several seconds as he struggled with the raging emotion inside of him. Finally, he shook his head and whispered a ragged, “No.”
Rayad came to stand at his side—a presence of comfort, strength, and integrity that Jace envied. Jace turned to face him, opening himself up in complete honesty.
“I want to kill the emperor.” He swallowed the bitterness the confession left behind. “I want to stop him. I want to make him pay for what he’s done.”
He looked away. He’d tried so hard to change in the last couple of years—to reject the violence that ran in his blood—especially since meeting Kyrin, but had he gained any victory over it at all? How could he have when every impulse urged him to take action against the emperor?
Rayad’s voice held no condemnation. “I don’t think there’s a person in this camp who doesn’t feel the same way.”
Jace met his gaze again. Could he really believe they felt it with the same passion he did?
Rayad went on, “You’re not the only one who wants to see Daican answer for what he’s done. Knowing how Kyrin and Kaden feel, and judging by the look on Captain Darq’s face, I’m sure you’re not the only one who would like to see to it personally. That’s understandable.”
He sighed, and his eyes expressed the depth of his own sadness. “It’s hard to see right now in the midst of such sorrow, but Daican will not go unpunished. Sooner or later, he’ll answer to Elôm, and His judgment is far more thorough and fitting than ours.”
Jace dragged a hard breath into his lungs. He wanted to believe that, but it led him right to the heart of the hardest part in all this. His voice raw, he asked, “But why did He allow it to happen in the first place?”
“I don’t know, Jace,” Rayad responded, quietly and honestly. “It doesn’t seem right or to serve any purpose at all. However, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that, even when nothing makes any sense to us, there’s still a purpose. And as hard as it is at times, we have to believe that and let it carry us through.”
“I just don’t see any good reason Captain Altair had to die. We don’t even have the Scrolls to stand as something he died for.” The words choked through the back of Jace’s throat. He’d seen too many good, innocent people die. People who’d treated him with kindness and helped him believe he was more than the ryrik blood beating in his heart. Why were they always the ones to die?
“I know,” Rayad murmured. “I don’t either, but I know I must trust, even when it’s the most difficult thing to do.”
Jace’s shoulders sagged as the heat inside him died away and he grew cold again. He looked past Rayad, settling his eyes on Kyrin. “I wish I could do something for her.”
“Just be there. That’s all any of us can do for them.”
Aric entered the palace, shivering, though the cold was only half of it. He’d passed William’s last message along to Tane, and then wandered from one street to the next as if he could outpace the sorrow. Every part of him rebelled at returning to Auréa but, if he didn’t turn up soon, Daican would suspect him. The very thought of the man made his fists clench. He’d had no choice but to close his mind off to the events of the morning, yet now he felt himself coming undone. He shook his head, fighting it, but suddenly he couldn’t go on. He reached out and braced himself against the wall. He breathed shallowly as the reality he’d tried to avoid finally took hold. Before he could stop them, tears trickled down his cheeks.
He’d been forced to witness executions before, but this was personal. William had been one of his closest friends, but now he was gone. The emperor had taken his life with no more thought than breathing. Aric gritted his teeth. How badly he’d desired to take the emperor down, right there on that platform in front of everyone. How badly he still desired to. Elôm, help me. The struggle almost overwhelmed him.
“Aric.”
He stiffened at the emperor’s voice, and for just that moment saw everything slipping away—his cover, his position, his life. But he hardened his expression and resolve and turned slowly. Daican would see the tears, but let him see. If he didn’t have some understanding, then he was an even crueler man than Aric thought.
“Your Majesty?” His deep voice came thick.
The emperor studied him with eyes that lacked the slightest regret over taking a life. Aric stared straight back, waiting.
“You mourn over Captain Altair?” Daican’s cool tone hid his feelings on the matter.
“Forgive me, my lord, but yes. He was a longtime friend.” Aric felt the cord around his emotions fray, coming dangerously close to snapping. He cleared his throat, his heart hollow as he spoke. “But do not take my regret as condoning his actions.”
What bitter, loathsome words. How he hated this charade, now more than ever in his life. Hated that he hadn’t acted on the platform. He would forever regret it, but what could he have done? The only thing it would have changed was that his body would have fallen next to his friend’s. William hadn’t wanted that. For this reason, he must go on with this hateful pretense.
With slow, calculated movements, Daican nodded. “Of course, you must mourn for a friend, especially when their death comes from such misguided ideals.”
“Thank you, my lord, for your understanding,” he murmured and hoped his pres
ent hatred for this man remained hidden inside him. “Is there anything you want me to see to?”
Daican regarded him a moment before shaking his head. “No, as long as security is handled, take the day.”
It was a rare moment of genuineness, and Aric again murmured a hollow thanks before walking off. He needed the time to gain better control over his emotions and seek Elôm’s strength.
Leetra tied off the thread that stitched together Talas’s wound and wiped away the blood that had seeped out. She’d been able to do more for him than Tane’s family had but, even with her skills, she had no way of knowing just how much damage the blade had done. He would either survive . . . or he wouldn’t. She could only wait now.
She glanced at his face. A crete’s skin shouldn’t be so pale. The last crete she’d seen in such perilous condition had been Gem’s previous rider when he’d fallen from the dragon he was training and been impaled on a tree limb. Even their best physician hadn’t been able to save him. If only their physician were here now. Maybe he’d give Talas a greater chance.
A hard, aching lump climbed into Leetra’s throat. Falcor had done this—her fiancé, the man who would have soon been her husband. How could he? How dare he? To betray his people and commit murder—to betray her? She squeezed the cloth in her hand, the heaviness in her chest mounting as she imagined him standing in front of her and what she would say to him if she had the chance. If Talas died . . .
“You’re looking mighty fierce there, Lee.”
Her gaze jerked to her cousin’s face as he let out a weak laugh, but then he scrunched his eyes closed in a grimace.
Leetra didn’t soften her expression. This was absolutely no time for laughter. But trust Talas to try to lighten the mood, even if he was the one lying there, quite possibly dying.
“Don’t talk.”
He opened his eyes again and blinked a few times to focus on her. Any previous mirth in his look had disappeared. “It’s not your fault, you know. None of us would have suspected Falcor was capable of this.”
Leetra bit down so hard her teeth threatened to shatter. How could it not be her fault? She knew Falcor better than any of them. At least, she had thought she did. She had invited him to come. Why? Just so she would have someone who shared her feelings—one who agreed that they didn’t need to involve any Arcacians in their affairs. Elôm should strike her dead for her arrogance and what it had cost them.
She swallowed against the tightness in her throat, barely forcing out a rough reply. “I said, don’t talk.”
But Talas was persistent. “You can’t blame yourself.”
A hot tear burned down Leetra’s cheek before she could stop it. She scowled and rubbed it against her shoulder before giving her cousin a hard look. “Do you want to die?”
“I’d certainly prefer not to.”
“Then why aren’t you listening to the physician who’s trying to save your life?”
Talas closed his eyes, as if in surrender, and said no more.
By noon, the wind picked up, gusting down from the mountains and swirling the snow that fell in thick flakes. Jace glanced up at the heavy clouds and then over at the dragons, where Leetra was doing everything she could for Talas. Captain Darq was there with her, while Glynn kept watch in case the emperor had grown bold enough to attack them in spite of the dragons.
But then Jace fixed his eyes on Kyrin and Kaden. They hadn’t moved in hours—not even to warm up by the fire. By now they must be freezing. Jace walked over to the supplies and collected two dry blankets. Neither Kyrin nor her brother noticed him until Jace handed one to Kaden. The younger man looked up at him, his eyes red and dull—the opposite of their usual spirit.
“Thanks,” he murmured, though Jace could barely hear him.
He nodded. If only he could do more. He turned to Kyrin. Unfolding the blanket, he wrapped it around her shoulders and felt her trembling under his hands. He wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or trauma, but he suspected a bit of both. She clutched the blanket to her throat and looked at him with an expression so full of loss he couldn’t breathe for a moment. Losing Kalli and Aldor had destroyed him. Only Kyrin had been able to pull him from that dark state. Would he be able to help her the same way? What if he couldn’t?
Her mouth opened a little, though she couldn’t seem to find the voice to thank him. But he didn’t need it. He sat beside her, struggling for a way to help. He had so little knowledge in such areas beyond his own pain, but Rayad’s words echoed in his head. Just be there. Swallowing to loosen his throat, he said, “I’m sorry.”
It sounded so inadequate, but he didn’t know what else to say. She gave a weak nod. Though snow-encrusted strands of hair hid most of her face, a solitary tear rolled down her damp cheek. He looked down to where she was staring. Her right hand rested in her lap, her red fingers grasping the necklace Tane had given her. The simple gray-blue stone wouldn’t strike anyone as valuable, but it clearly meant a great deal to her. She glanced at him. Her voice barely rose above the growing howl of the wind, and was small, broken, and childlike.
“The blacksmith back home helped me make it when I was a girl. I gave it to my father when Kaden and I left for Tarvin Hall. I—” A choked sob cut her short. “I told him it . . . it was so he would always remember me.”
She hunched over and cried mournfully. Jace’s heart constricted with shared pain. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, wishing he could somehow shield her from the sorrow. She felt so small and fragile—nothing like the strong young woman he’d come to know. Would she ever be the same again? She curled herself into a ball and nestled against him as she continued to cry. Jace looked over at Kaden, who could only stare sadly at his sister. Rubbing Kyrin’s arm, Jace rested his cheek on the top of her head, praying as he never had before. The icy snow stung his skin, but he didn’t pull away. She needed all the comfort and warmth he could give her.
A few moments later, she spoke again, though Jace didn’t quite catch her muffled words. He raised his head. “What?”
“It’s my fault,” she barely managed through trembling lips.
Jace shook his head. How could she think such a thing? “No.”
“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I knew something was wrong with Falcor. I should’ve said something . . . done something. If I had, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Jace grimaced. These were feelings he should carry, not her; not on top of her grief. After all, he’d had just as much call to confront Falcor, but hadn’t. He remembered how his guilt had nearly consumed him after Kalli and Aldor died. He couldn’t let Kyrin feel the same.
“No. You can’t blame yourself.” He hesitated. What would Rayad say? But instead, his mind latched onto something she had once told him when he was at his lowest. “This is all in the hands of Elôm. It’s not your fault.”
A small cry broke out, but Kyrin said no more. Jace could only hope she believed what he said as he struggled to believe it himself and give up his own burden of guilt.
Despite how the hours passed, Jace did not leave Kyrin’s side. Her tears eventually subsided, but she remained huddled against him, staring off into the gloom. The cold had long ago numbed the feeling in her face, but the rest of her body ached fiercely—a deep, throbbing, feverish ache.
She wanted to move, to get up and be stronger than this, but she couldn’t seem to summon the motivation. Her heart kept crying, Elôm, why? She still struggled to comprehend and accept the reality of it. She didn’t want to face the future, which now felt unbearably empty without her father. It hurt too much. She longed to escape the pain—to run as fast and as far away from it as she could—but she was trapped right in the very center of it. If only she could fall asleep until it passed, but that still wouldn’t bring him back.
Her frozen cheeks burned before she even knew the tears fell again. The warmth brought awareness of just how cold she was, even with Jace so near. A tremor passed through her body, followed by another, until she sh
ivered all over. Jace held her a little tighter, and she buried her face against his coat. The air seemed colder all of a sudden and bit deep down into her bones. She peeked through her hair and it hit her how dark the sky was. Twilight had descended. Had they really sat here for that long?
When her teeth started to chatter, Jace moved for the first time in a while. “You need to get by the fire.”
Did she even have the strength to move? Did she want to? She just had no will. Jace rose first and reached down to lift her to her feet. He didn’t let go until he was sure she could stand on her own. Her legs wobbled at first, but gained strength as blood circulated more freely. After arranging the fallen blanket around her shoulders, he turned and offered a hand to Kaden. He pulled him up and guided both of them to the large fire burning in the center of camp, where their friends quickly made room for them.
The warmth of the fire was welcome, but stung Kyrin’s face and cracked lips as they thawed out. She stared into the flames with dry, gritty eyes. Pressure throbbed in her head. No doubt, in a few hours she would have a splitting headache. Her tears welled just imagining it.
“Are you hungry?”
She blinked and looked at Jace. “No,” she managed hoarsely. Right now, she felt like she wanted to throw up.
Fighting the threat from her stomach, she gathered her fuzzy thoughts and forced them onto someone beside herself, like Timothy and Aaron, who had also suffered a terrible loss. “How is Talas? What happened to him?”
Captain Darq’s intense eyes met hers across the fire. “Falcor stabbed him. He’s resting now with Storm.”
Kyrin swallowed hard, but her throat only ached more. “Will he be all right?”
Darq gave a helpless shrug. “We can’t say for sure. If he weren’t crete, he wouldn’t have survived this long. It may save him yet. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
The King's Scrolls Page 20