Chapter 8

“Cullenspire ahead, sire.”

The young guard’s announcement was met with a whoop of joy from Wren. Trystan glanced over in amusement as the young man dug his heels into his steed’s flanks and shot ahead of the rest of the party, anxious to make the top of the rise. Trystan ignored Avery’s headshake of disapproval for he understood Wren’s excitement. Cullenspire was his home. His mother and sister awaited him there. The smile on Trystan’s face grew bitter as he realized that no longer stood true for him. His father would never again await Trystan’s return, and Ri was more absent than not. Things had changed. He pushed the sadness and worry for his sister and Davi deep down. Wren at least deserved his happy homecoming.

Wren crested the rise but drew his horse up short and stared at what lay below him before looking back over his shoulder. Trystan stiffened as Wren’s puzzled eyes met his.

“Your Majesty, you need to see this.”

The soldiers surrounding them moved aside as Trystan and Avery hurried their mounts through the narrow opening. Trystan was on edge, not quite sure what Wren was seeing, but praying nothing had happened to Lady Yaro and her people in their absence.

He arrived at the top of the hill a mere moment before Avery, but his audible gasp must have raised her hackles since she questioned sharply, “What is it, sire?

He didn’t bother to answer for she saw it just as she pulled abreast of him. No words could define the sight.

Cullenspire lay below them tucked away against the fringe of the Isenore forest and caught in the rays of the evening sun. It remained unchanged and the stone wall around it stood intact. That was not what caught the eye. What interested them was the sight of the outlying areas. Cullenspire was like a jewel wrapped inside the sea of blue and gray and brown tents that dotted the fields once covered in dead grasses and crops. Every shape and size imaginable. Patches of green grass peeked out between the tents and shanties. A whole village of hundreds seemed to have sprung up around Cullenspire. Maybe even thousands. A very similar sight to what had waited outside Lord Coille’s estate in Whitcap but at least triple in size. Banners of different houses snapped in the wind around sections of the camp. Houses that Trystan recognized well. House Denys, House Godfrey, House Saye, all well-known allies with his father. Trystan couldn’t help the smile that lifted the corner of his mouth.

“Seems like your mother has been busy since the last time we were here.”

Wren nodded as his eyes shone with laughter. “Seems so. She never was one to sit around idly while there was an army that needed to be raised.”

Without waiting for Trystan’s approval, Wren started down the slope, his laughter carrying on the breeze. Trystan followed along with Avery. Her muttered “I didn’t believe it possible, but this one is even worse than Davion,” had him snorting under his breath.

“Sire, let me go first,” Avery insisted as she tried to ride ahead, but it fell on deaf ears. While Cullenspire was not Trystan’s home, he was as eager to get to it as Wren was.

The sounds and smells of the encampment met them as soon as they hit the valley floor. Laughter echoed in the air, accompanied by mouthwatering aromas of roasting meat and spilled mead. They’d arrived in the midst of mealtime.

“Who goes there?” A voice carried from the encroaching shadows as a couple of guards stepped into the road, blocking their way.

“Wren Yaro. Please let my mother know we are here.”

His words were met with silence before disbelieving laughter broke out.

“Wren? Is it really you?”

“Shannos?” Wren leapt nimbly from his horse as he headed for the guard and they embraced, slapping each other soundly on the back. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”

“You too. I thought for sure you’d never make it back in one piece.”

“Nice to see you had confidence in my fighting ability, friend.”

Shannos chuckled as he pointed a finger Wren’s way. “Had all the confidence in the world in your fighting ability, Yaro. It was your mouth that always landed you in trouble. I figured some jealous husband would have taken you out long ago, just like that time—”

“No need to tell tales, old man,” Wren interrupted as he glanced back at Mira who studied him silently under an arched brow. “Now be a good chap and tell us what is happening. Why are all these people here? Has my mother been recruiting?”

“No need for her to recruit. The talk of King Trystan traveling through the villages looking for anyone of an age to fight has spread like wildfire. These are volunteers who came here willingly. A thousand strong, all ready to pick up a sword and fight for the king that brought magic back to the lands. We even have a few elders teaching the ways of fighting with magic, your mother included.”

Trystan glanced at Wren, and he smiled up at him. “My mother was a brilliant magic wielder in her day. No need to worry, sire, she will lead them well, just as Lonara will teach all back at the palace.”

“Sire?” The guard peered through the dwindling light at Trystan. “Yaro, do you mean to tell me I am in the presence of our king, and you said nothing?”

Both guards fell to one knee as the one named Shannos cried out in horror, “I’m sorry, your Majesty. Please forgive me.”

Trystan buried the laughter welling in his chest. “Arise, Sir Shannos, and no need to apologize. You’ve brought me great news. Our armies of Aldorwood and Sona grow every day, but Isenore we were unsure of. It is an honor to see so many loyal to the Renaulds.”

“Not everyone sided with Eisner, your Majesty.” Shannos gripped his sword tight as he spat Eisner’s name. “Most of us would gladly lop that traitor’s head off if given the opportunity.”

“Then pray when the opportunity arises, and it will, you do so with a steady hand.”

“It would be an honor to take out that traitorous bastard,” Shannos agreed, and Trystan swore he heard Alixa mumble “Not if I do it first,” as she rode up beside him. She’d been unusually quiet the closer they’d gotten to Cullenspire, and Trystan watched her now as she observed the manor, a sadness etched in her face. He knew she was reliving Ella’s death and he so badly wanted to reach out and take her hand. To offer his support, but he dared not. Not with so many eyes on him expecting him to act like their king. He knew the torment of losing a dear friend and he was glad she still had Edric around to help her deal with Ella’s loss.

“As much as I’d love to talk more, Shannos, the thought of a hot meal and a glass of port appeals even more. Please excuse us as I let my mother know her wandering son has returned. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up, my friend.”

Shannos nodded as he and the other guard stood back to let them pass. By now the arrival of Trystan and his people had caught the attention of others. As Shannos shouted out “Make way for the king!” Trystan groaned deep in his chest. This was exactly what he’d wanted to avoid. Curious eyes and open mouths met their progression down the carriage lane as Shannos’ words registered and the whispers of King Trystan made its way through the crowd. As they rode, people went to their knees in respect as the whispers grew into a chant.

“Trystan. Trystan. Trystan.”

Alixa rode beside him as he stayed silent through it all. “You know they’ll want to hear from their king. You can’t ignore them.”

He ran a weary hand over his neck. “I know. Just not tonight. I’ll do my kingly duty tomorrow. As Wren just said, a hot meal and a strong drink sounds mighty nice right about now. Tonight, just let me be Trystan. Tomorrow is plenty of time to be king.”

Alixa favored him with a sympathetic gaze. “I don’t think you’re allowed that distinction anymore, your Majesty.”

As Trystan watched her snap her reins and ride ahead, he had a sinking feeling that she just might be right.

* * *

“And that was the first time I met the lovely Mira.” Wren beamed at the blonde girl sitting beside him and kissed the back of her hand, his love for her shining unabashed in his eyes. Mira’s response was a bit more reserved. She cared for Wren, it was easy to see. But sitting here at Lady Yaro’s formal dining table made her very uncomfortable, Trystan could tell. The dining hall, with its ceiling high tapestries and imposing portraits of the Yaro family, would be overwhelming to the best of guests, let alone a village commoner. Ever since Wren had introduced Mira to his family as his betrothed, she’d been made the center of attention, especially by Lady Yaro. Trystan almost felt sorry for the poor girl as the matriarch of the Yaro clan studied Mira with the censure reserved only for the mothers of sons about to be replaced in their hearts by another woman.

“You’re a farmer’s daughter then?” Lady Yaro asked, not all in innocence, Trystan believed. The question annoyed him to no end.

“Wren left out one important part when he was singing Mira’s virtues, Lady Yaro.” Trystan couldn’t help but intervene. “Mira has Tenelach, just like Princess Rissa. She is very special. She will be a very important addition to our army.”

Mira’s eyes filled with gratitude as they met Trystan’s. “Thank you, your Majesty,” she breathed, and Trystan gave a slight nod in response.

Lady Yaro finally smiled for the first time since hearing about her son’s impending wedded bliss. “Tenelach? Wren, why didn’t you say so?”

“Did I forget to mention that?” Wren’s brow furrowed as if he were trying to understand why that was the most impressive thing about the woman he loved.

Trystan hid his smile as he sipped his wine and met Alixa’s gaze across the laden table between them. Maybe it was too much of the wine Lady Yaro had supplied them with in celebration of her son’s return, but Alixa’s cheeks were a rosy red and the sadness that had been her constant companion lately, was absent.

She smiled at Trystan. A pleased, full out smile that brightened her hazel eyes to a golden hue and transformed her face into a vision of beauty. The smile hit him like a punch to the gut, and he sucked in a breath, almost choking on the sip of wine he’d just taken. Coughing to cover his embarrassment, he dragged his eyes away and turned to Lady Yaro.

“The guards told us you have a thousand strong training here, Madame. Quite the impressive feat. You’ve been busy since we last spoke. I owe you great thanks.”

Lady Yaro turned her attention to Trystan, and he saw Mira out of the corner of his eye sag in relief.

“Truth be told, sire, all I did was spread word of the impending war and the need to show loyalty to the king who recovered their magic. These men and women showed up here on their own, demanding to be trained. They all realize they owe you their lives, and the lives of their families as well. We’ve had our own blacksmiths and bowyers, and those of the surrounding villages working night and day, outfitting them all with weapons and armor. The fletchers have been making arrows and bolts nonstop. Plus the few of us old folk who remember magic have been holding daily lessons, trying to teach them the ways without draining too much magic. It is slow going, but Calis’ army will not fight with weapons alone. We must be prepared and able to reciprocate with magic, else they will defeat us. Dreach-Sciene will not go down easily.”

“I agree. I appreciate your time and investment. Lonara is also training everyone back at the palace. I have every faith in the Tri-Gard to have them ready by the time we return.”

Lady Yaro rested her elbows on the table and placed her chin on her steepled hands, studying the king.

“I have no doubt she will, sire. But truthfully, how much time do we have? To be brutally honest, I thought Calis would have attacked by now. I realize Dreach-Sciene’s army outnumbers his, but a quick attack while our wielders are still untrained would have done great damage to us.”

Trystan picked up his goblet and took another sip, debating his response.

“I am not sure. Spies from across the border tell us that Calis’ army is filled with dissent and his people divided. Civil unrest has broken out. Seems like our returning magic has had consequences in Dreach-Dhoun as well, and it has bought us some time. Calis will not attack until he has his own people in line, we hope. As we speak, my sister and second in command are across the border performing a rescue of the seer who helped us escape. She was sentenced to death along with hundreds of villagers. I hope they are successful in their mission and will have more news for us on their return.”

Lady Yaro’s brows lifted in surprise. “Calis is holding a seer prisoner and has given her a death penalty? She could prove invaluable to him. Such a move does not make sense.”

“I fear his anger outweighs his common sense. The seer I speak of is his niece and has betrayed the Bearne name. He would rather see her hang then show mercy.”

“His niece? But that means…”

Trystan’s mouth formed a grim line at Lady Yaro’s correct assumption. “Yes. The seer who was sent to the castle to murder my father. I’m sure you’ve heard a version of that story, although she was not the one to carry out the deed.”

Lady Yaro crossed her arms across her chest. “And you believe her? Anyone with the Bearne name would be hard pressed to speak the truth.”

Wren interrupted before Trystan could utter the angry retort that sprang to his lips. “You know better than to question our king, Mother. King Trystan’s second in command also carries the Bearne name and Trystan trusts him completely, therefore so do I.”

“As do I,” Alixa added, her tone hard. “If we are to judge a person’s character by the name they carry, then I would be found quite wanting, I’m afraid.”

Lady Yaro bowed her head in remorse. “I apologize, your Majesty. I do not mean to question your decisions. Forgive me. I am nothing but a silly old woman with a wagging tongue.” A wry smile split her lips.

Wren’s laughter echoed about the room, breaking the tension. “As I’ve told you many times over the years to no avail. Trust that it would take a king to make you admit that out loud.”

“Why am I cursed with such an impudent child?” Lady Yaro sighed, but it only made Wren laugh harder. The laughter was contagious. Soon they were all joining in. Even Avery cracked a smile, although it looked foreign on her face. The only one who wasn’t laughing was Anna, Lady Yaro’s daughter and Wren’s younger sister. She sat beside her mother, her face grave and her eyes unfocused. Trystan noticed her seriousness a moment before she spoke, interrupting the laughter.

Her voice sounded old, bitter. Not the voice of the child they saw before them. Her eyes burned as if with fever as they landed on Trystan.

“Laugh while we can, for darkness is coming for Dreach-Sciene. I see it. It comes for us all. Death. Sacrifice. Betrayal. That is your curse.”

Lady Yaro whirled in shock as she grabbed her daughter’s hand. “Anna?”

The young girl seemed beyond hearing. Her eyes rolled back in her head until only the whites showed as she repeated the same words over and over. “It’s coming. It’s coming. It’s coming.”

“Anna.” Wren yelled in panic and jumped to catch his sister as she slumped in her chair and fell to the floor in a dead faint.