Chapter 2

Someone was coming.

Trystan swore under his breath as he tried to conceal himself behind the snow-laden tree stump he’d been resting on.

They were almost on top of him. He’d been wallowing so much in his worry over Ri, and his need to be alone for a few minutes to pull his head together that he hadn’t heard them until now. After the attack days before, he should have been on high alert and wanted to kick himself for letting them be found. Again.

Whoever was approaching wasn’t any of his people. He’d left their Eastern camp before sunrise, his dreams still too haunting to allow sleep. These sounds came from the West. Someone else was making their way through the Isenore mountains, and with the way lady luck had been taunting them lately, it was more likely foe than friend.

The sun rose at his back. That was in his favor at least. The shadow cast by the background of trees would hopefully keep him hidden while he observed the newcomers. A few soldiers he could handle if he took them by surprise. Even without Lonara’s help. A regiment was a whole other story.

The quiet neighing of horses and the occasional snapping of a twig were the only signs of their approach, but Trystan’s fingers tapped silently against the hilt of his sword, readying for battle. His heart thumped against his ribs, and he tried to calm his frazzled energy. If Davi were here, he would have made some stupid joke by now to break the tension. But Davi wasn’t here. Ri’s accusatory glare reminded him of that every time she looked his way. His stupid desire for solitude had left him alone in the woods against the unknown, imminent threat. He no longer had his brother to watch his back. That harsh realization only fueled his anger instead of his fright, and he began to hope it was enemy soldiers. Nothing like a battle to take the edge off one’s anger.

It didn’t take long for the horses to make their way through the sea of dead trees. The sun’s rays highlighted the steel blades of two men flanking the women on horseback. The men were soldiers, their uniforms hidden under snow speckled furs, but Trystan swore he caught a glimpse of the Isenore colors, and his grip tightened on his blade. The last group of Isenore soldiers had tried to kill them. This was not looking so good.

He would have attacked already if it weren’t for the women. The young girl and the older matron were no soldiers. He could tell that, even from afar. Their postures in the saddle were perfect, and their furs of the finest quality, despite the well-worn look. Nobles. Trystan stayed hidden a bit longer, his curiosity piqued. What the hell were nobles doing this far up in the mountains?

“Are you sure we are going the right way, Anna?” The older lady’s voice floated through the quiet, the refined tone bringing with it the familiarity of court. No, she definitely was not a soldier.

“Yes, Mother. The aura of magic is waning, no doubt, but it still shows me the way. We are getting closer to the magic wielder. May we stop so I can concentrate?”

The older lady motioned to the soldiers and all four horses came to a halt.

Trystan could hardly believe his eyes as the young girl lowered her cloak and breathed deeply as if she were trying to draw in the magic’s very essence. Understanding set in. This girl was a seer, drawn here by Briggs’ magic. Alarm stiffened his spine. Who was she?

Before he could react, a stealthy form shifted quietly from the shadows at his back and crouched by his side.

“Toha.” Avery’s use of his title was a mere whisper, but Trystan heard the underlining reprimand. She was mad at him for wandering off by himself.

No time to worry about her anger. He pointed to the left flanking soldier, and she nodded, readying her bow. At his urging, Avery let loose an arrow that missed the soldier on purpose and embedded in the tree inches above his head. They reacted quickly, he’d give them that. In the blink of an eye, the soldiers yanked the woman from their horses and boxed them in between themselves and their beasts.

“Show yourselves,” the right soldier growled as he held his blade in Trystan’s direction. The prince had no intention of doing any such thing.

“We are the ones with a bow trained on your women. You don’t make demands on us.”

To his surprise, the older woman stood upright and pushed her way past the soldier’s restraining hand.

“I am Lady Yaro, wife of Hendry Yaro, and mistress of Cullenspire Manor. How dare you take a shot at one of my guards?”

Trystan was more than a little taken aback at her demanding tone. There was no mistaking the sincerity of her words.

“Cullenspire Manor? If memory serves me correctly, that is a vassal in Isenore territory, is it not? And last I heard, Lord Eisner was a traitor to the king. Do you follow the same path, Lady Yaro? For if so, my archers surrounding you at the moment are excellent shots and will not miss.”

“You take me for a fool, boy? That arrow came from where you hide. There are no archers in the trees, just like there are no coins in our purse if you’re aiming to rob us. If you wish for me to answer your question, then stop being a coward and show yourself.”

Trystan scowled but stood upright even as Avery shook her head in disagreement. He motioned for her to stay hidden as he stepped from the shadows, his sword loose in his grip in what he hoped was an unthreatening gesture.

“I’m no bandit, my lady,” he said. “But to reiterate my question, do you follow in Lord Eisner’s footsteps? Are you a traitor to King Marcus Renauld?”

She narrowed her eyes his way. “I don’t know if that’s a trick question or not, boy, for how am I to know if you yourself aren’t an Eisner follower? You have not revealed your identity. But regardless of where your loyalties lie, I have no qualms with telling you where mine do. I am no follower of Lord Eisner.” She spat his name in contempt. “Not only is he a traitor to the king I follow with the deepest of loyalty, but he is also why I stand before you a grieving widow. The reason why my children are left fatherless. The reason my eldest son has already died in the Dreach-Dhoun dungeons and my second son has left home to fight in a war we have little chance of winning. And the reason why I am traipsing through these god-forsaken mountains searching for the few people who may offer us a sliver of hope. Now, if you are indeed a man of Isenore, then step forward and accept your fate. For while I live, I’ll order the execution of every single follower of his that has the misfortune to cross my path.”

Surprise coursed through Trystan, but before he could respond, a disbelieving, “Dona Yaro,” echoed through the trees. Their exchange had drawn the rest of Trystan’s party. Alixa, Edric, and Rissa followed behind Lonara, their weapons drawn and ready, eyeballing the Isenore soldiers with distrust.

“Mistress Lonara?” Shock painted the older lady’s voice as her face paled to match the falling snow. She forgot about Trystan as she stumbled toward the Tri-Gard member, her hand held to her heart like she feared it would jump from her chest and splatter at her feet. “It is really you. When my dearest Anna said she felt a magical disturbance, I knew it had to be one of the Tri-Gard, back to save us. I told my people you would not abandon us forever. Oh my, what a glorious day to have found you. I thought we’d never meet again.”

The old lady fell to her knees as she grabbed Lonara’s hands and raised them to her lips, dropping a kiss on each knuckle. Tears ran down the wrinkled cheeks as Lonara gently pulled the woman back to standing and wiped her tears away. The Tri-Gard’s familiarity and fond smile put Trystan at ease, and he sheathed his weapon.

“It is good to see you as well, old friend. It has been far too long. But your words raise concern. The trail left by the magic is still traceable? I’d feared as much, but hoped it was growing too faint to follow.”

Lady Yaro called to her daughter over her shoulder and the young girl approached, wide-eyed and pale. “Anna, answer the Mistress’s question.”

“It is still traceable, yes, but is growing weaker. We’ve been following it for a few days. It’s why we came. We needed to find you.”

Lonara’s troubled eyes met Trystan’s. “You must pack up camp and make a swift departure.”

Lady Yaro glanced back and forth between the two in puzzlement. “This arrogant bandit is traveling with you?”

Trystan ignored Alixa’s slight snort at the lady’s assumption. Even Lonara’s lips twitched despite her concern. “He is no bandit, Lady Yaro. Let me introduce you to Prince Trystan Renauld and his sister, Princess Rissa.” She waved a hand Rissa’s way, and the girl nodded her head in greeting.

The look of horror on the lady’s face would have been funny if it weren’t for the worrisome news she’d just imparted.

“Prince? Oh, my goodness. Your Highness, I am so sorry.” Her curtsy was awkward with embarrassment. “Please forgive my impertinence. I did not recognize you.”

“No need to apologize, my lady. Your answer to my allegiance question is the most reassuring I’ve heard in quite some time. But Lona is right. We don’t have time to stand here talking. We need to make haste and you need to remove yourselves from our company. It won’t end well for either of you if you are found with us.”

The older lady pulled herself back to full height, regaining her composure once again. “Thank you for your concern, your Highness, but we aren’t going anywhere. Not without what we came here to find. Anna was not only able to feel the magic but also your distress. We came here looking for the Tri-Gard member, but we also came to offer our aid. More will be looking for you. We need to get you back to Cullenspire. It will be the perfect place to hide you, right in the belly of the beast.”

“Why do you offer your help?” Rissa’s unexpected words were as frigid as the mountain air as she stepped out of the shadows of the forest. “You are from Isenore. Why should we trust you?”

“Rissa,” Trystan admonished, and his sister’s icy gaze fell on him.

“What?” she questioned. “It’s not like you aren’t all thinking the same. Alixa, Avery, Edric, do you not all feel the same?”

“I understand your distrust, Princess.” Lady Yaro was the one to answer Rissa. “Yes, I am from Isenore, but my allegiance does not lie with Lord Eisner. On the contrary, there’s nothing more I wish to see than that man’s head rotting on a stake on my manor wall.” Trystan winced at the harsh comment and glanced Alixa’s way, but she seemed impervious to Lady Yaro’s words. “I can feel your sorrow from here. You’ve lost much. So have I, but we can’t let that impede us from doing what we can to fight back. Protecting the Tri-Gard is the first step. Although I’m surprised you slipped up, Lona, and used your magic. You of all people know how dangerous that can be.”

“It wasn’t Lonara,” Trystan supplied, suddenly taking a liking to the straight-shooting Lady Yaro. “It was Briggs who used magic. Although in his defense, he was trying to protect us.”

“Briggs? Briggs Villard?” Lady Yaro’s face lit up. “He is with you as well? Oh my heavens, two Tri-Gard members united? This is glorious news indeed.” She stared around in confusion. “Where is he?”

Trystan groaned as he and the others all realized the same thing. Briggs wasn’t anywhere in sight. “Good Lord, you left Briggs behind? We need to get back to camp right away before he does something moronic like wander off or use magic again.”

Lady Yaro’s eyes sparked in amusement. “Briggs Villard and moronic used together in the same sentence? Glad to see some things never change.”

* * *

“Briggs?” Trystan crouched down beside his still sleeping form. “Wake up, you old fool.”

Alixa walked around to the other side of him and met Trystan’s eye. They’d all had enough of Briggs’ antics on their journey.

“This isn’t funny, Briggs,” she snapped.

“Wish we could just leave him,” Rissa mumbled under her breath.

She wasn’t the first to express the same thought. They didn’t trust the Tri-Gard and for good reason. They were only in this darned mess because of them.

Trystan reached forward to press his frozen hand against Briggs’ cheek, hoping it’d shock him awake.

“Briggs.” His eyes darted around as he moved his hand from the old man’s cheek to his forehead. “He’s burning up.”

Trystan cast a worried glanced back to Lonara, and the woman ran forward.

“Something’s wrong.” He backed away to make room for Lonara.

Lonara looked her fellow Tri-Gard member over. “You need to get him to the healer at Cullenspire. Now.” She gestured to the two guards, and they lifted Briggs onto one of the horses.

Fear spiked in the prince as he took in the pale skin of the man who could help them save the kingdom. What if he didn’t wake?

“Where are you going?” Trystan gripped Lonara’s arm to stop her as she began readying her own horse.

She glanced at Briggs draped across the saddle then shifted her eyes to the prince. “I am going to give you time, my prince. One week should be sufficient for Briggs’ magic to fade away. You will be protected at Cullenspire. I will use my magic to create a new trail that veers off from this one. Hopefully the stronger one will lead any followers away while you all regain your strength.” Her eyes flicked to Rissa. “And deal with your new circumstances.”

“Don’t let Briggs die or we will all follow soon after.”

“Is it wise to use magic again? They will come after you in droves.”

Lonara’s mouth thinned to a grim line. “I’m aware, but we have no choice. You need to get to Cullenspire undetected. Trust me, I can look after myself. I will rejoin you when the time is right.”

Before anyone said another word, she was gone.

There was nothing left to do but follow her directives. Trystan wasn’t convinced it was the right choice, but Lonara was right. It was the only choice.

They rode hard, doubling up on the few horses they had. By the time they finally exited the mountains, Alixa could barely manage to stay balanced in the saddle in front of Trystan. His frozen hands steadied her, and she threw a tiny smile of gratitude back over her shoulder. Traveling through the heart of Isenore had not been easy on any of them, but Trystan could only imagine the torturous memories Isenore had dredged up for Alixa. In response to her smile, his arm tightened on her waist, and she stiffened in surprise under his touch but didn’t pull away. Instead, she glanced back at him with worried eyes.

“Do you think Lona’s plan will work?”

His mind drifted to Lonara. He truly hoped it did. He worried for her but if he were being honest with himself, his worry was more so for the rest of them. Lonara had survived in the mountains for years without their help. She could do so again. He just felt they were safer when she was around. If he had to choose to be left alone with her or Briggs, well, the choice was obvious.

“It will.” He answered back. “Lonara’s right, we need the week to rest and heal. We need to keep the old man alive for this plan to work. Lady Yaro’s healer will know what to do.”

Trystan hoped he sounded far more convincing to Alixa than he felt.

The snow fell heavily as the smoke-spewing chimneys of Cullenspire finally came into view. The manor spread below them on a sea of pristine white, the tidy gables of its rooftop making a dark silhouette against the gray evening sky. Lantern light spilled from every window, a welcoming glow against the frigid wind. The stone walls and gates surrounding it offered a sense of security, unlike the barren mountains and forests they’d left behind. Trystan sighed in relief and commented softly over Alixa’s shoulder.

“After all we’ve been through, is it trivial of me to say I cannot wait to sleep in a real bed again?”

He heard the laughter in her voice. “Not at all. Know what I’m looking forward to the most? A nice, hot, long leisurely bath.”

A flushed of heat-stained Trystan’s cheeks as the image of Alixa relaxing in a steaming tub filled his mind. This was not the time or place for such foolish thoughts. To cover his unease, he lifted his chin Rissa’s way. His sister rode ahead, her back stiff with anger, ignoring Edric’s attempts to talk to her. Ignoring everyone.

“Maybe that’s what she needs. A bit of normalcy to bring her back around.”

Alixa’s gaze shifted to Rissa and her voice filled with sadness. “Give her time to overcome her grief, Trystan.”

Alixa was right. But time was not a luxury any of them could afford right now. He needed his sister back. But she was nowhere to be found, and Trystan was deathly afraid she might be gone forever.

 A pair of burly soldiers met them as the gates opened, toothless grins indicative of how relieved they were to see their mistress again. Lady Yaro called down to them as they rode by. “We need the healer immediately. If he’s in his bed, wake him.” They moved instantly to do her bidding.

More servants exited the manor to greet them as they pulled up in front of the oversized, grand doors. Lady Yaro turned to the guard riding with Briggs’ unconscious form. “Take him to the healer’s workshop right away. We will check on him as soon as we are settled.”

The guard slid down and two other men ran forward to help carry Briggs away.

Trystan dismounted and helped Alixa do the same before turning to follow the guards and Briggs, but a servant’s message to Lady Yaro stopped him.

“I’m glad to see you back, Mistress. A visitor arrived from Whitecap this morning. A messenger of Lord Coille. He says it’s important but refused to speak to anyone but you, so he awaits inside under watch.”

Lord Coille sent a messenger? A cold shiver passed over Trystan and it didn’t have anything to do with the icy wind at their backs. Lady Yaro must have felt the same, for she jumped down and strode anxiously toward the grand house.

Trystan handed his reins to one of the waiting young stable hands and followed Lady Yaro up the marble steps to the double oak doors without hesitation. She threw them open and swept into the massive hall, pinning a terrified maid with her demanding stare.

“The messenger who arrived this morning. Where is he?”

“In… in the study, my lady.”

With no consideration for their snow-covered boots, Lady Yaro marched over the fine floors and around the corner to the end of the hall. A guard standing outside the door at the end of the corridor came to attention at her presence and opened the door. Lady Yaro paused and glanced back at Trystan.

“I would appreciate it if you would accompany me, your Highness, as this is surely news of the kingdom, but perhaps we should do this alone?”

Trystan shook his head. “I hide nothing from my companions, my lady. They are privy to everything. No room for secrets.”

She tilted her head in acknowledgment of his decision. “As you wish.”

The young man shot to his feet as soon as they piled into the room, his weary face a testament to his arduous journey. His eyes darted over all of them in puzzlement before finally settling on the older woman. She stepped his way.

“I am Lady Yaro. My guards tell me you’ve come with a message?”

“Yes, my lady. But Lord Coille said it was meant for your ears alone….” He trailed off as his attention flitted about the room.

“No worries, young sir. You are free to speak in front of everyone here.”

He swallowed hard before nodding and stepping out from behind his chair. He held a wool cap in his hands, which he twisted into a knot of nervousness. Trystan’s stomach knotted in the exact same manner.

“Something has happened, my lady. Something bad. Lord Coille has received word that King Marcus is dead. Murdered in his own bedchamber by an agent of King Calis.”

It took Trystan only a moment to track the whispered NO to his pale-faced sister. Her eyes met his, oozing pain and disbelief. Proof of what his mind refused to consider as truth. Trystan should have moved towards her. He should have offered her his strength, but in that moment, he wasn’t sure he had an ounce of strength left. The words ricocheted through his mind, refusing to grab hold.

His head shook of its own accord. His father was the grandest man he’d ever known. He couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t possible.

Rissa turned and ran from the room, from him, the silence left behind echoing with her footsteps.

“Ri,” he whispered in dismay as the pain stabbed into him. His father was gone. The man he’d looked up to his entire life. The man who’d felt like he’d always be there to guide him, to protect him, to love him.

You are to be a symbol of hope.

He’d said those words, changing Trystan’s entire world. He wasn’t just a protector of his people’s lives, but of their very souls. But who would protect his now that his father was gone?

Dead.

Forever.

Just like Davion.

Just like his mother.

A single tear tracked down his face as he lifted his eyes to the grieving subjects who waited in anticipation for his reaction. Avery stepped up beside him, her head bowed and her face damp.

“Murdered in his bedroom.” Anger tainted her words. “He deserved better.”

Trystan didn’t look at her. He didn’t look at anyone as he paced further into the room. “He deserved to die of old age with my mother still by his side. But none of us get what we deserve. We take what Calis Bearne gives us.” An unexpected wave of rage exploded in his heart, ripping through his body like jagged lightning. He lashed out at the nearest object, a footstool that careened into the wall and shattered into a thousand splinters. “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

Running his hands over his face, he breathed deeply through his nose, trying to calm himself down. The others didn’t need to see this loss of control. Reining in his anger, he dropped his hands, expecting to be met with gazes of shock or fear. Instead, he watched in puzzlement as Avery went down on one knee.

“And I will be by your side, your Majesty. For King Marcus and the people he loved.”

Your Majesty. The title sounded foreign. It wasn’t supposed to be his. Not yet.

When Edric, Lady Yaro, and Alixa also kneeled, he wanted to tell them to rise, but the gesture rooted him in place. As much as his heart craved revenge, as much as he desired to spill Calis’ blood, he realized one thing. It wasn’t only about him and the dark king anymore. It was about each and every person who’d been affected.

And he was now their king.

A chilling chant fell from their lips.

“The King is dead. Long live King Trystan.”