Valiant (The Blood Trail Chronicles Book 3)

by AE Watson

The air was stifling like Artan was breathing on me.

  The hills and city seemed to blend with the beach as if the sand had been used to make the houses and structures rising up from the sea and climbing the burnt-looking hillside.

  There were no mountains or greenery. It was barren and yet full, but all of it blending together.

  The smell of spices hit my nose before the sound of the small city below us.

  Artan grumbled, uncomfortable and staying high enough that the people below had not noticed us yet.

  “Land there,” I shouted at the top of the hill, a rounded and bald mass that would provide us a great lookout but also allow him liftoff if he needed it.

  He grunted and circled, moaning about the unfamiliarity as he lowered in three wide circles and landed with a thud that dusted up the ground into a cloud around us.

  Artan turned his head sharply, snorting.

  A face I’d missed stepped from the shadows of a rocky crag that had blended into the hill perfectly. “I thought I saw a dragon coming this way. I did not expect to see you both here,” Grayson offered as he rushed forward, out of breath as if he’d run the entire way here from the city below.

  “Grayse!” I jumped from Artan, landing funny with my legs asleep and staggered forward, stumbling into his arms.

  “You’re less graceful than I recall,” he said with a chuckle and hugged me tightly.

  The smell and feel of him was everything I needed. I relaxed into his arms, fighting the urge to complain and tell him of all my woes, grateful he would be a sympathetic ear. He would understand my exhaustion and frustration.

  But I resisted and got right to business. “I’ve come at the request of Maddox. He has given up his immortality, along with Michael. They have released themselves of the curse of the vulkodlak.”

  “What?” He pulled me back. “How?”

  I parted my lips with the story but even the memory of it was too awful and bizarre. “It doesn’t matter. Maddox relinquished his right as the leader—”

  “That was nice of him,” Grayse grumbled and closed his eyes for a moment. “Let me guess, he wants me to go to the wolves, force them to bend the knee to Michael and to never question his authority again?” He gave me an expectant look.

  “Something along those lines.”

  “And you decided to deliver the message in person instead of sending a raven?” He arched a dark eyebrow as his lips toyed with a grin.

  “Something along those lines,” I repeated myself and rested my head against the weird leather clothing he wore.

  He wrapped himself around me, making my cloak and tunic and leather breeches too hot, but I didn’t budge. I needed this. Whatever our exchanges had been previously, I gleaned something from him, peace or relaxation of sorts. He calmed a storm inside me that I had been ignoring.

  “Did Maddox change so you and he—?”

  “No.” I left out the part that Max felt nothing for me now. Nothing but the disdain you had for the person who murdered your mother in cold blood.

  “You’ve managed to do the one thing I asked of you?” He pulled me back again so he could stare down on me and force our gaze. “You haven’t fallen in love with anyone?”

  A laugh slipped from my lips as I burst, unable to keep it all from him, “With what time exactly? I spent weeks with your cousin in Strath, organizing and building so they could begin to unite their clans. Then on to Firth to kill everyone who helped Herrick and his miserable father, and put Ed on the throne there as steward. That is until two nights ago he declared he would rather remain a wolf and go to the grove and live out his life there with Keanna. Whom, by the way hates me.”

  “I’m sorry I ask—”

  “I went to Norstad to find Maddox and ran into my cousin Egar and forced him to sit on the steward’s throne of Ettelbruck. I did see Maddox there and told him about the throne in Midland, and even though he also hates me, he will be the steward. After that I was off to Marana to discover the king—my uncle—had slaughtered his entire family and the royal family from Midland. Leaving behind only one small cousin who is too traumatized to take the steward’s throne. So I had to beg a lord to take it as a regent. And Ed got married to Keanna, who again hates me. I wasn’t welcome at the wedding but went.” My voice cracked.

  “Millia—”

  “I’m not done.” I stepped back from him, my arms now joining the conversation as I pointed and waved like a mad woman. “My aunt took me to see her coven in some mystical land. They wanted me to claim my magic. I said I would but only if they cured Michael and Ed of the stain of the vulkodlak. They agreed. This ritual takes the souls of witches and turns them into flowers the vulkodlak eats. Her soul draws the magic from the person who has eaten the flower and takes it to the spirit realm with her as she dies. Four witches died to make the cure and Ed and Keanna wouldn’t even take it.”

  “Four?” His eyes danced. “Who else took it?”

  “Michael and Maddox. But that’s beside the point. The point”—I took a huge inhale—“is I am exhausted. Everyone hates me. I still don’t have stewards on all the thrones. Half of Enderoth doesn’t want Michael as their king. And I feel like this is never going to end.” My legs buckled and I sat on the rocky hillside.

  “The answer was no then, to the falling in love?”

  “I hate you,” I muttered but laughed at how ridiculous he was. “Despite you being the only good news in my life. Ever. My aunts said you’ve taken back Fantol.”

  “And Vicerath. And Slynderal. All that’s left is Altaros. I’ve united the Southern Isles under a single banner.” He sat on the rocks across from me and nodded. “And I am exhausted as well.” As he spoke, I saw it. He didn’t age or weather or show his weariness. But there was a hint of how drained he was in his stare. “I’ve spent months killing my way across these islands, searching out supporters of Anamay and ending them with no mercy. It’s a tiresome existence. And the main reason I avoided this responsibility for so long.”

  “I know. Every night in a different place, sleeping in strange beds or under trees with Artan. Eating when there is food and always thirsty,” I lamented. “I’m sorry to have saddled you with this.”

  “Don’t lie.” He laughed. “I know you’re grateful to have someone to share this hell with.”

  “I am. But I have Michael too. And the aunts.” Artan grunted. “And of course, my faithful dragon brother.”

  Grayse nodded at him. “I could have used him a few times.”

  Artan’s eyes glistened with green fire, no doubt preferring to have seen the battles, over flying on errands for me nonstop. I knew how he felt.

  “How long are you here?”

  “The night. I will go to Florents tomorrow and you will go to the wolves. If your army here can spare you for a few days of travel.” It was my turn to cock an eyebrow. “Unless you’re busy tonight. You haven’t gone and fallen in love, have you?”

  He laughed. “Oh I’m in love all right, Princess. But she’s given me this impossible task to complete before she’ll be with me.” He stared at me for a second, his words making my heart flutter and cheeks flush. “And last I’d heard, she was being promised to a prince from Montagne.” And there it was. The one part of the story I’d kept to myself.

  “Not promised,” I defended my honor, slightly. “More like convinced of the merit of the joining.” I wrinkled my nose. “You know, the sort of romantic talk one has with one’s brother who also happens to be a king in need of allies.”

  “And Ed didn’t help that at all.”

  “He is not a team player,” I muttered, still burning over that. “I never imagined Keanna would forgive me for what I did.” My gaze lowered, accidentally revealing the shame I had over it. But what use was shame without regret? “I just never believed Ed and Keanna would abandon the responsibility of our family.”

  Grayson got up and walked to me, offering me his hand. It was more callused than the last time I saw him. Gripping swords day and night w
ould do that. I took his hand and stood, letting him pull me into his arms again. He tilted my face and stared into my eyes, creating a burning within me. “Come to my palace. Let’s spend the night enjoying each other’s company and forget everything else.”

  “Your palace?” I grinned. “What happened to avoiding the crown and your rightful place?”

  He grinned back. “Oh, I’m managing about as well as you are.” He turned to at Artan. “Wanna give us a lift home? I was only here by chance when I saw you.”

  Artan stood tall and grunted. We climbed on his back, Grayse behind me, holding me tightly. It was the moment of reprieve I needed.

  Chapter 18

  We flew longer than I expected, crossing small hillsides and a few villages. Until we came to a city like I’d never seen.

  Artan landed in the courtyard of a vast white palace. It was shaped like a strange flower. There were pools of cool blue water making up the petals of the flower’s shape and stone pillars with white and blue silky curtains clinging to them. The palace itself was made of the same pale stone. I imagined the curtains could be untied and create a peaceful and private oasis around the pools.

  Torches waiting to be lit stood in every corner. The doorways and windows looking onto the courtyard were all arched and wide. Matching the rooftops up high that were rounded with a point at the very top.

  “What is this place?”

  “The king’s castle in Mornha. Eastern city of Fantol. This is typical design in the Southern Isles.” Grayson shrugged and walked into the oasis. “This is my private pool.” He sauntered to a pillar and leaned against it as Artan found himself a shady spot to sit. There wasn’t another soul here. For some reason that made me uneasy.

  “What happened to avoiding the throne?” I narrowed my gaze. “There are no private oases in my life, Your Grace.” I curtseyed.

  “It was going well,” he explained casually. “I managed to fight and motivate and help the rulers of Slynderal take back their lands without becoming anything beyond a well-thought-of fighter. Until we reached Degha. The collared—” He paused.

  “Yes, I remember the collars.”

  “They were working like slaves and living in squalor.” His eyes flashed with fury. “I’d never seen anything like it. I came undone. I lost my hold on my beast and freed everyone. I killed every guard single-handedly.” He furrowed his brow. “The collared felt me, they knelt. The leaders and generals were beaten down, exhausted. They wanted nothing like they did to unload their burdens on me.”

  “And then you took Vicerath?”

  He lightened again, his smile came back. “With an army of us—bears, wolves, and fanged ones. Even some elves who had chosen not to live amongst Oren’s rule. We destroyed the slavers and opium dens and fighting rings. And freed everyone from the mines.” His eyes flickered to mine again. “And when I take Altaros and kill Anamay, the islands will be free.”

  “But you won’t be?” The realization hit hard.

  “No.” He paused, taking a moment with that. “I won’t ever be free of this, of my legacy and lineage. But I don’t want to dwell on that now. Come and see the palace. I think you’ll like it.” He offered me a hand again and I took it. But this time there was tension in his grip. I feared this would always be the way with us. Two people forced to put their responsibilities above each other.

  “Is Artan okay here?” I asked as we walked to where he lay.

  “This is my home for now. Artan has been explained to my staff.” Grayson paused at Artan and smiled. “They will bring you charred lamb and pork.”

  Artan snorted a huff of hot air at us.

  “Fine, just lamb.” Grayson chuckled and pulled me toward the open arched doorway.

  “Where is your staff?”

  “I keep very few here,” Grayson said. “I prefer the quiet.”

  “So not much has changed then?” I asked as we entered a vast hallway lined with windows. They were all arched with the same white curtains as the pillars. The stone walls and floors matched, pale and smooth and cool to the touch.

  It was nice being inside, not so hot as the outdoors was for my northern skin.

  “I will come and fight with you in Altaros. And crush her,” I offered. “I want to be the one who kills her anyway. I want her head severed from her body to ensure she never rises again.”

  Grayse wrinkled his nose. “I see the ladylike behavior remains an issue.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I’ll welcome the help though. She has an elite fighting team of believers who see her as the one prophesized to come and unite the Southern Isles again. Some of the Degha fighters even. Though I have the most important ones on my side. They believe in a different prophecy.” Grayson led me into a large kitchen where a face I knew all too well sat at the counter, eating a roasted chicken and laughing with some other men sharing his meal.

  “Master Lindley?” I gasped, my heart stopping as I said his name.

  His brow furrowed and he stood abruptly. He dropped to his knee. “Your Highness!”

  “Master Lindley!” I shrieked and ran at him, launching myself into his body, knocking him over. It was obviously unwelcomed and inappropriate but I didn’t care. “You’re alive!” I squeezed him and held tight. It was almost as wonderful as finding my own father alive.

  “Wait!” Grayse shouted. “This is Anamay’s father?” he growled and turned on us. “Rhone, you’re Master Lindley?”

  Master Lindley struggled to stand, lifting me at the same time. He hugged me tightly but spoke to Grayson, “Yes and no.” He pulled me back, sighing as he stared down on me. “None of this went to plan. But I’m pleased you’re alive.”

  “Can someone explain this to me!” Grayson shouted.

  “I can.” Master Lindley turned and grabbed his drink from the counter. “But I’ll need more ale for it.” He sat and took a huge gulp and wiped his face before speaking, “I was born in Slynderal. My father was king. My eldest brother would be the heir. As fourth in line, I believed myself free to be who I wanted to be, a fighter in Degha.”

  The story was following Anamay’s version quite closely.

  “As I was to ship off with my eldest brother’s permission, a girl I had seen a few times came to me saying she was with child.” His cheeks flushed.

  Grayson glanced at me, impatient and wanting to shout at Master Lindley, but I shook my head, subtly.

  “I married her and gave up my dream. I took a position within my brother’s court, and we lived well enough until my child was born. That day I knew I’d been tricked.”

  “What?” I asked, noting a slight difference in the tale.

  “Anamay wasn’t mine. There was no way. For a thousand years, every child born in my family had a mark on their left foot. A small star. Anamay didn’t have it. I accused my wife, and eventually she told me of her lie to trick me into marriage. The true father of the child was from Enderoth, a friend of her grandmother’s. He was a man who had a wife and wouldn’t claim her daughter.” Master Lindley snarled, “Barrel MacDonald.”

  “Herrick’s sister!” I gasped.

  “He had been in Slynderal for trade talks, but I now suspect he was there to talk about the army he would need to overthrow your father. The gold armor. Even then, he was obsessed with ruling Enderoth.” Master Lindley’s gaze met mine. “Desperate to be free and live the life I always wanted, I convinced my brother to annul the marriage for me and marry my wife off to someone of importance so she would be happy. I trained to become the best fighter I could be for you, a child born with a star in the sky. My father’s prophet, a witch from Enderoth, came and told us that the child born with the star would be the one in the prophecy we had all grown up hearing. She would need great fighters and loyal kin to help her fix the broken worlds.” A softness filled his face as he spoke. “I knew she was my destiny. I finished my apprenticeship and took the role of guard trainer at the Black Keep ensuring you would be trained to be the best fighter you could be.”r />
  “The best fighter I’ve ever seen,” Grayson spoke softly.

  “Anamay is not my child. She is of the evil bloodlines that have worked against our people for too long.”

  “How did Barrel know your wife was a witch?” I asked, processing and separating the story from the lies I’d been told.

  “What do you mean?” Master Lindley seemed confused.

  “Anamay said her mother was a witch who healed her womb with dragon’s blood and tears and that was why she was like me.”

  “She is not like you. There is no one like you.” Master Lindley shook his head. “Her mother was not a witch. She was the least remarkable woman I have ever met, beyond her beauty.”

  It was my turn to sit. One of the men sitting and listening poured a large glass of ale and passed it to me. I drank it back in a couple of gulps and placed the cup down for him to refill. “Where did she get her magic then?”

  “That is a good question,” Master Lindley agreed. “I never knew she was anything beyond the regent of Florents, awaiting her son to take his rightful place. I’ve not kept track of her, which I now see was a mistake.”

  “Does she believe you are her father or was that told to me to make me feel sorry for her?”

  Master Lindley shook his head slowly. “I cannot answer that, Your Grace.”

  “Rhone, you came to Slynderal after the Black Keep was sacked—”

  “My brother was assassinated. Word was sent that I needed to come home and defend my people.” His eyes darted to mine again. “I didn’t know where you’d gone, Princess. I wouldn’t have left if I knew you needed me.”

  “Your family needed you. I understand that. You fought bravely to protect my father. You will always be family to me.” I took his hand and squeezed it. “I’m grateful you’re here with Grayse keeping him safe.” I winked at Grayson who nodded though he needed no one’s help.

  “I’ll be returning with you now that I know you’re here.”

  “I’ll send my aunt to come and get you when I’m ready.” I smiled politely. “The army of Enderoth will need all the help it can get.”