I should have felt devastated. I was oddly numb.
“You sure you trust him?” Brynjar muttered to Shay.
Of course he’d spoken loud enough for me to hear. Bastard.
“Yes.” There was absolutely no hesitation in her voice. She sat her mount between us, Brynjar on one side, me on the other, and although she wasn’t a princess, and she wore men’s trousers, she looked so damn regal. “We can.”
Shay, so sure of me. So sure of what needed to be done. Always willing to sacrifice herself. Even now. She didn’t care that she wasn’t royalty. She still did what was expected of her, what they needed her to do. All for the greater good. But I could see the hurt on her features, noticed the way she avoided eye contact with the Acadian soldiers as if she was ashamed. I knew how much pain she endured. I could sense it, feel it. She might not be royalty, but we had so much in common. She hated that she couldn’t do more for her people, hated that they would suffer.
And that’s why I had to talk to my uncle. I had to try to stop this before it got worse. Worse for us. Worse for Cashel. Worse for Acadia. Worse for the entire realm.
We crested the hill and for a moment, time stilled. My people, my soldiers, were lined up, waiting. Their armor glinted under the sunlight, blindingly brilliant. Their lines were straight as the stitching my sister had been forced to do as a lady. They looked prepared, encouraged, as if they knew they would win. So perfect, I wondered for a brief moment if I stared at a painting.
The Romantic War, it would be called.
Except there was nothing romantic about fighting, about dying, about fear and hatred.
I recognized Gregor and my uncle immediately. Both sat their mounts at the head of the army. My army. Gregor had taken my place. I wasn’t surprised, and I could not fault him. He deserved it. He was a good soldier, an even better leader.
“Why, Nephew, back from the dead?” my uncle’s voice rang out hard, not a flicker of emotion, but then I’d expected none. “How very surprising.”
“It’s almost as if he’s not happy to see you,” Brynjar muttered, pulling his mount to a halt.
Although a year had gone by, both my uncle and Gregor looked shockingly the same. I took in a deep, steadying breath and paused next to Shay. There was so much I wanted to say to my people. So much I could say. But I had to bite my tongue. I had to play nice…at least for now.
“Uncle, as you can see,” I shouted clear, and loud enough for the men who lined up behind him to hear. “I am well. They did not harm me. This has all been a misunderstanding.”
He was quiet, and I knew he was mulling over his next response. Despite the ironic tone of his voice, he was surprised to see me. Surprised and annoyed. I noted the tense set of his shoulders, even from a distance.
“When young Gregor made it home,” he started, his voice echoing so loudly, no doubt the natural ones in the mountains could hear. “He told an interesting tale of how you had betrayed our people. He claimed that you insisted on taking the Acadians to our fairy mines. That you sold your entire kingdom for your own freedom.”
A sharp stab of betrayal sliced through me. I glanced at Gregor. Unashamed, he met my gaze. Gone was the charming, laughing man I’d grown up with. His eyes had gone cold, his face resolute. My stomach clenched, regret bitter. Gregor was lost to me. A year alone under my uncle’s rule had taken him away. Then again, it was easy to believe the worst in someone, if it was beneficial to you. And he had definitely benefited from taking my uncle’s side.
It was clear in that moment, that I belonged to no kingdom. Belonged to no one. My chest felt tight. My throat ached. Had my sister changed too? Did she believe the lies? Had I lost all? And then I felt Shay’s presence beside me. Dared to look at her. She gave me a small nod of support. That small nod was all I needed.
“What say you, Nephew?”
A cold breeze swept down from the mountain, fluttering the banners my people held. He knew very well that I hadn’t a clue where those mines were located. But I also knew that denying knowledge would be pointless. They wouldn’t believe me.
I would not allow my grief to consume me. “I made a deal to get Gregor to safety, and I would do it again. I would do it for any of my people.”
“And that would be a mistake.” My uncle shifted on his mount, leaning forward in eager anticipation, and I knew he thought he’d won. “To save one, only to endanger an entire kingdom? That is the work of an inexperienced child. To save your friend, only for women and children to be murdered, is the work of a selfish man. You could have destroyed our entire way of life!”
It started to rain. A light drizzle that coated my face, chilled my skin, made the numbness grow, spreading like ice across a pond in winter, until I felt nothing. “Yet I didn’t,” I said. “And you’re the only one present who has started a war.”
My uncle’s face grew red. “You are not a king, nor will you ever be. A king puts the entire kingdom first, even over his own comfort. He does not give special treatment to his family, his friends. You are weak, a liar, a coward, and I am ashamed to call you Nephew!”
Of everything he’d accused me, he was the guilty party. I could see Shay stiffen beside me. Could practically feel the anger vibrating from her. Our mounts shifted, as if, they, too, felt her fury. I patted the neck of my horse. For some reason it made me feel better to know she was furious for me. To know someone cared. I was without a kingdom, but I wasn’t alone.
“I’m not the only one who realized your weakness.”
I had a dreadful feeling I knew were this was headed.
“Your father saw that you lacked substance, which is why he left me in charge. He wanted me to rule.”
“You lie,” I hissed.
“Easy,” Brynjar said, just loud enough for me to hear.
Heated anger pulsed on waves that burned from the inside out. I could feel Shay’s attention. Were my eyes glowing? Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised. My hands tightened on the reins, as a tingling sensation moved over my scalp, down my neck and back.
Release me, the beast demanded.
“Careful,” Shay whispered.
She was the one spot of sanity in this disastrous meeting. I took in a deep breath and forced my hands to loosen on the reins. Losing control would do no good. Not here. Not now. Speaking to my uncle was futile, but I had to try to get through to my people. Surely, they would recognize his lies and hatred.
I nudged my mount forward, breaking away from the Acadian soldiers and putting myself in between both kingdoms. Slowly, I looked at the men I had trained. The men with whom I had fought side by side. “Will you stand with him? Will you stand with my uncle and his lies? Will you war for the rest of your lives, knowing only pain and death?”
Not one man met my gaze. My anger and frustration flared.
“Or will you stand with me, the rightful heir? Someone who can negotiate treaties, who can make sure we live in peace, comfort.”
My uncle moved his mount toward me so it was only the two of us, steps apart, facing each other on the battlefield. Up close, I realized that he’d aged, but then hatred would do that to a person.
“Someone who will change our way of life? Change our values? Our beliefs?” he yelled.
“Our values are not working when we have to live in a constant state of fear and anger! A fear and anger you feed with your hatred and lies!”
I despised myself for losing control. A breeze swept down from the mountains, taking the echo of my words with it, as if to clear away any remaining emotion.
Ignoring my uncle, I focused on the soldiers behind him. Focused on Gregor, who had been by my side for most of my life. “Do you want to see your children grow, live, have fruitful lives? To have peaceful relationships with our allies?”
“How do they know they can trust you?” my uncle called out, his voice rolling over the hills, so like my father’s that it was hard to hear him. “When you’ve been gone a year, doing only the gods know what?”
So
then, we were going to have this conversation in front of everyone? So be it. “Since when is my loyalty to my people questionable?”
My uncle leaned forward on his mount. There was no fear in his eyes, only stark determination. Dark clouds hovered on the horizon behind him, providing a dreary backdrop. A perfect setting. “Since you disappeared with the princess of our enemy.”
The men behind him shifted, mumbling their approval. A heavy feeling of dread weighed down. They didn’t trust me. I hadn’t only lost Gregor, I’d lost them all. Slowly, carefully, I scanned their faces, looking for something, anything. A few of the men were foreign, but most I recognized. Men who had known me since I’d been a child. Men I thought would fight beside me until the day I died. Had they turned on me quickly? Easily? A few words from my uncle? Or had it taken months of cunning, weeks of lies?
“Since when is Acadia our enemy,” I tried once more. “We had a peace treaty with them, Uncle, or did you forget?”
His eyes narrowed. “Acadia became our enemy when they worked with you to take over our kingdom.”
I could feel the shift of energy sweeping through the Acadian people behind me. Hell and damnation, I was caught between two angry kingdoms. Despite the fact that I’d returned their princess, Acadia would only take so much from my uncle.
“We were with Queen Iduna,” Shay snapped out. “Gone much longer than intended. Longer than we even realized. Prince Makaiden is no traitor, and if you don’t realize that, if you don’t understand how much he has done for you all, how much he cares for you all, then you don’t deserve him!”
A murmur of shock rang through my soldiers. Her words had not helped, they’d only stoked the fear that I had traded sides. But I couldn’t be annoyed with her, for they were lost to me. They’d been lost to me a year ago. Perhaps even before she had arrived in this realm.
My uncle’s eyes narrowed. “You’re claiming to have been in Queen Iduna’s land for a year, after which she released you?”
Yes, when he said it, the story sounded absurd. I could see the confusion and hesitation that crossed their features. It was the same look Shay’s people had given her. They weren’t sure what to think about me now. Were we blessed by Queen Iduna, or cursed? Something to fear, or something to admire?
“A likely story, Nephew, but I don’t believe a word you’ve said, considering we found plans in your very chambers for an uprising.”
“More lies,” I hissed.
As if I’d be stupid enough to leave a plan that important in my chambers, where I knew they’d search. I tore my gaze from my uncle and focused on Gregor, hoping to find something there. A hint. A glimpse. There was no softening in his eyes, only condemnation. Fact was, although I had made no written plans as he claimed, had we not contemplated ways to destroy my uncle in the past? In Gregor’s eyes, I was guilty, by my own admissions.
“You have put our people, your own family, your own sister, in danger!” my uncle roared. He was riling the crowd. I’d seen him do it many times before, and I’d known eventually the day would come when he’d try to destroy me in front of my people. “You have been branded a traitor and will die so!”
The crowd behind him roared, united in their hatred. It rang down on me bitter and cold. Each beat of their fists upon their armored chests was like a punch to my gut. I could feel it: their fury, their need to fight, to blame someone, anyone, even if that someone was me. A wave of heated frustration swept through my veins, boiling in my blood. I felt lost and alone on a sea of hostility.
From the corner of my eye, I noted the way Brynjar’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword. The general had moved down the lines, calling out orders. This would be my lot in life? This is what the fates wanted, for me to see my own people die? The utter unfairness of it all hit me hard.
My uncle raised his sword.
With a war cry, they started forward. The pounding of horse hooves shook me so that my own armor rattled. Closer…closer…closer they came. Their faces became focused. The whites of their eyes became visible. Closer…closer…closer.
“Mak,” Shay screamed, jerking me from my stupor.
Shay.
Shay was here, and she would be caught in the middle of this battle. Shite. Desperate, I jerked my mount around and raced back toward Acadia. Faces of soldiers flitted by me, men heading toward their death. As I moved toward Shay, the Acadian soldiers headed toward Cashel, their cries of war deafening. I could barely see her over the cloud of dust they stirred.
Her horse danced, frantic. She was trying to keep her mount calm, whispering words of comfort to the animal, and doing her best to control him. Brynjar held his shield high over Shay’s head, attempting to protect her. Arrows rained down, hitting the shield with a thud that made my heart jump. There was no time to plan, only time to react.
“Shay,” I snapped. “Return to the camp!”
The clash of swords rang through the air as the two kingdoms crashed together.
“No.” Her face was set in that stubborn way I’d always found so endearing, but now only found frustrating. “I won’t leave. I can help.”
“It’s too dangerous. You are not trained to fight.” I shifted my mount next to hers, and reached for her reins. “Please, if you care for me at all, please leave.”
She glared, trying to tug her reins from my hands. “That’s not fair.”
I tightened my hold, pulling her and her mount closer. Despite the chaos that roared around us, the clash of metal, the cries of pain, in that brief moment, it was only the two of us. “Shay, please.”
“No. I’m not. So, leave me…” Her voice trailed off.
“What?” I demanded, trying to turn and see what had her enthralled. “What is it?”
“Mak, no!”
Before I could guess her intention, she flew across her mount and hit me hard. Caught off balance, we both fell, tumbling from my saddle. Right before we hit the ground, I turned, taking the brunt of the impact. Around us, horse hooves pounded, stirring dust. I covered Shay’s head with my hands. We had to get to our feet fast, before we were trampled.
“Shay.” Frantic, I gripped her upper arms. “What the hell were you thinking?”
I stumbled to my feet, trying to haul her up with me, but she was heavy, limp. Icy fear trickled down my spine. She was pale. Too pale. What was wrong?
I shook her. “Shay?”
She tilted her head back. Her eyes were glassy, strange. “I…the bow. Arrow.”
I jerked my gaze from her face and saw it: an arrow protruding from her lower back. Panic washed over me, making my knees weak. “Damnation, Shay! What happened?”
“He was going to shoot you.” Her lashes fluttered. Hell, she was going to faint. “Stupid of me.”
“Makaiden,” Brynjar called out.
Somehow, we’d become separated. He was doing his damnest to fight his way toward us. I didn’t miss the concern on his face, his gaze focused on the arrow. I couldn’t climb atop my mount, and pull her up at the same time, not without hurting her more. She went slack, sinking into me.
“Shay?” I lightly slapped the side of her face. Why hadn’t I noticed that arrow? “No, no, no!”
Brynjar reached us and jumped from his mount. “Hurry.”
He slid his arms under her body, taking her from me.
Desperate, I managed to regain my horse. She couldn’t die. She couldn’t. My fault. This was all my fault. Brynjar handed Shay up to me. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow. The beast within roared with anguish.
“Careful of the arrow,” Brynjar yelled, over the cacophony of fighting. “We’ll hold them back. Take her to camp and use the fairy balm, before it’s too late.”
Cradling Shay in my arms, I turned my mount and raced back toward camp, leaving behind my uncle, my people, and praying to the gods that I could save Shay.
****
Shay
“You stupid, stupid girl.” That familiar scent of sweat and desperation entered my semi-conscious m
ind and pulled me from the murky depths of slumber. “You could have ruined everything.”
What was she talking about? Everything felt so foggy, so muted. My lids fluttered up. The world was hazy. Was it day? Night? I wasn’t sure. “Mom?”
“I’m not your mother,” Sarah hissed.
Not my mother. Right. How could I forget. The harsh reminder should have hurt. It didn’t, mostly because everything was blurry and numb. It felt like an invisible blanket weighed down on me, smothering. What had happened? Despite the haziness of the situation, I couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiousness that lurked deep, deep down.
Mak.
Oh god. Mak. He’d been trying to make me leave the battlefield when I’d spotted the arrow meant for him. Nausea rolled up my throat. I shoved my hands into the cot, sitting up. My emotions teetered on the edge of despair and hope, and I was almost afraid to ask. “Is he dead? Is he hurt?”
“Of course not!” She paced the confines of her luxurious tent, back and forth in a dizzying whirl that made my head pound. “Because you saved him, like some bloody fool!”
Relieved, I sank back against my cot.
Alive. He lived.
I closed my eyes. Everything came rushing back on a screen of flickering emotions. The utter chaos of the battle. The danger. The noise. The death. He’d tried. Mak had tried so hard, and it had been completely heart-breaking to see his entire kingdom turn on him. That arrow had been intended for him. Him. The man who was supposed to be their king. The man who had done so much to try and save them.
“Do you know how much fairy balm they had to waste on you? Do you know how suspicious it looked to your soldiers that you put your own life in danger for the son of our enemy?”
The fairy magic might have mended my arrow wound, but it wasn’t helping against the throbbing headache. “You need to go, Sarah.”
“Go? As if you can order me around?” She snorted. “You think you’re so much better than me? You’re nothing. You’re a soldier’s daughter. A nobody.”
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