Chapter 68

They spent the next week on the road, cutting through the Woodmaple Forest instead of traveling through town; Sander was likely a popular man in these parts and avoiding people seemed the best way to prevent unnecessary conflict. The forest was on flat land, and the weather was warmer here than in the mountains, but the air was still crisp and cool with the changing of the seasons. Leaves of every shade of red and yellow hung from the trees and carpeted the ground, crackling under their horses’ hooves during the day and cushioning their sleep at night. The question of whether Sander would hold his tongue hung over Sam like a hangman’s noose. But if Tristan stole more glances in her direction, the glances held no malice, so Sander must have kept quiet, at least for the time being. In fact, Sander was a model prisoner: he never threatened escape and was unerringly cheerful. The only complaint he voiced was that Tristan wouldn’t let him fight off demon attacks, which grew more and more frequent the further west they traveled. “I can help,” Sander insisted. “I feel so damned useless.” “If you think I’ll allow you a weapon, you’ve lost your damned mind,” Tristan said. It was an oft repeated exchange over the course of the week, and the outcome always remained the same. Sam could tell Sander was not used to sitting out a fight and did not enjoy being idle, but he (mostly) kept up his cheery façade. Sam, for one, was disappointed she didn’t get to see him in action. The High Commander’s skill in battle was legendary, and she wanted to know if Sander was of the same caliber. She doubted it. It was on the eighth day after they had left Luca that a man on horseback came to meet them in the middle of the forest. His dark cloak and wide-brimmed hat were nearly identical to the High Commander’s man in Luca, his features as nondescript.  The man raised his hand, deliberately curling his first two fingers to his thumb, and then reined his horse near theirs. “Checking up on me?” asked Tristan with a frown. “Just making sure you do your part.” The man’s gaze slid past Tristan and settled on Sander. “I’ll inform the High Commander of your success.” “You do that,” said Tristan, his tone unfriendly. “Is that the only reason you came, or do you have another message to relay?” “Nay,” said the man. “The High Commander is a few weeks behind you. He’ll find you at the Diamond Coast and will take Sander from your custody.” “Did he say what his plans are for Sander?” Tristan asked. The man fixed him with a level gaze. “He did not, and that is not for you or me to ask.” Tristan’s eyebrows rose at that. “I shall ask the High Commander whatever I please. Are we done here?” “Aye,” said the man. “Good day, Paladin Lyons.” He tipped his hat in farewell and then galloped past them in a whirlwind of leaves. As soon as the leaves had settled, Tristan spat on the ground. “Those men are slime,” he said. “They should be held to the same code of honor as the rest of us.” “They’re not?” asked Sam. Tristan shook his head. “They serve the High Commander but are given free rein to execute his orders however they see fit. Their only guiding principle is that the end justifies the means.” “You sound like you disapprove,” Sander spoke up. “I do,” said Tristan. “That surprises you?” Sander shrugged. “It’s not an uncommon philosophy among men of war.” Braeden, who hadn’t cast a friendly look in the Uriel leader’s direction since that first night after Luca, turned curious eyes on Sander. “And you? Are you not also a man of war?” “Aye, among other things,” Sander said. “But it is not my philosophy either, and I hope it is not my men’s.” Tristan crossed his arms over his chest. “Only moral conduct can produce a moral outcome. It’s why rules and law were created and it’s why they ought to be followed.” “Oh, I disagree on that,” said Sander. “Sometimes doing the immoral thing is the moral thing to do. I would lie and cheat and steal to protect the ones I love.” Sam and Braeden traded guilty looks, and then their eyes bounced apart. Sam’s cheeks burned, and Braeden’s face was flushed, too. Damn it, Sander. “What know you of love? Your wife is dead,” Tristan said. Sam winced at the harshness in his voice. His sudden anger had come out of nowhere. Red crept up Sander’s neck, and for once his chronic smile retreated. “Aye, she’s dead,” he snapped. “Not a day goes by that I forget it. But my capacity for love did not die at her graveside. I will love her always, and I would cheat the gods themselves in order to protect our daughter.” “You have a daughter?” asked Sam. Sander’s face softened. “Aye, she’s as beautiful as the day is long and as full of fire as her mama.” Tristan passed his reins from hand to hand, and his mouth curved downward. “I didn’t know you had a child,” he said accusingly. Sander laughed. “A child? Addie is a woman grown, not two years younger than you.” “Who will care for her while you are...absent?” Tristan asked. “As she reminds me daily, she needs no keeper, though she misses me when I am gone,” Sander said. “If I should meet an unfortunate end, I will be sad to leave her alone.” It had not occurred to Sam that Sander was more to anyone than the leader of the Uriel. His grief for his late wife and fatherly love for his daughter did not fit with the image she had formed of him. Unease settled over her, and she questioned, for the first time, whether they had been right to follow the High Commander’s orders. Tristan clucked at his horse. “Come, let’s go. I hadn’t realized the High Commander was so close behind us. I want to arrive at the Diamond Coast before him.”