Traitor's Crown (Stones of Terrene Book 3)

by RJ Metcalf

  “Fine.” Brandon dropped his arms. “I’ll go back and start talking to them. Can you please set up a station or order or something, so I can do this in as orderly a fashion as possible?”

  Titus snapped a salute. “Right away, Your Highness.”

  Brandon sighed and faced Andre and Raine. Ben and Geist had drawn near as well, each giving him a nod of greeting. Brandon gave them a weary shrug. “I’ll return soon.” He directed his attention to Andre. “I would dearly love to catch up after all this time.”

  Andre consented with a bow that echoed with such familiarity that Brandon felt as though they were in the Doldran palace for just a brief, eternal moment. Grief ran barbs into Brandon, and he gave a short nod, turning away before they could see the tears that sprung to his eyes.

  He’d figure out how to help Andre later.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Raine

  She’d survived.

  Somehow. Against all odds.

  Raine didn’t have to look over her shoulder to know that it was Ben who lingered so close to where she sat on the packed dirt road, the beginning drops of rain starting to splash down in carelessly random patterns. A drop on her forehead. One on the ground by her boot. Another on the back of her hand. Her rear felt almost numb from the cold seeping through her thin prisoner pants, but she couldn’t find the motivation to move just yet.

  She’d survived.

  Assuming Papa did too—and she couldn’t imagine him dying; not now, not ever—she’d have to face him soon. And he’d see it on her face—that something had changed. What would she tell him? That she failed to protect herself from being used? That she’d snapped, and murdered a man in the fiery rage of revenge and hatred? That she lost herself the moment she set foot in the Hollows?

  “Andre.” Ben staggered to Raine’s only friend from the Hollows and stuck out his hand for Andre to clasp in a firm handshake. She heard the smile in Ben’s voice. “We feared the worst.”

  “Jade’s gonna cry when she sees you,” Geist commented from just behind Raine. He stopped beside her and shook his head while he crossed his arms. “You’re a walking miracle, as far as I’m concerned.” He shot Raine a sly grin. “And that’s saying something, considering present company.”

  A ghost of a smile passed Raine’s lips at Geist’s veiled reference to their fight against Lucio. She pushed herself up off the ground and dusted herself off as best as possible. The splatters of rain made most the dirt stick regardless. She walked over to Ben, offering her shoulder as a support for him to lean on. He settled his arm around her, and she subconsciously leaned into his warmth, savoring the feeling of being alive and free. “That was just luck of having two Void Born on your team, Geist. Not a miracle.”

  Geist huffed an incredulous laugh. “The fact that we had both of you and didn’t know it, that you were with us at the right time and place? Not even I would’ve bet on those odds.” He pointed to Andre, who watched them with a bemused expression. “And for him to be alive? Mm, no, sister. At this point I’m just waiting to hear that Brandon can speak to dragons or something equally ludicrous.”

  A strangled snort burst out of Ben, and Andre shook his head, shoulders shaking in silent amusement. Andre caught her attention, his eyes twinkling as he signed, “I don’t know. Many years happen. Maybe he can.”

  Raine laughed aloud, and Ben shot her a smile that was laced with a hint of confusion. Her heart flipped as quickly as one of Papa’s cattail pancakes on the griddle, and she swallowed hard, willing herself to not look away. “Andre said he didn’t know, but it’s been a long time, so maybe Brandon can.”

  Geist chuckled, and she forced a grin back to her face, still holding the weight of Ben’s gaze. What did Ben see when he looked at her like that? It made her feel exposed, like he already knew how much she was hurting, but he was holding back for some unknown reason. She shifted where she stood and tried to subtly glance around Ben and Andre to where the battle had taken place. Did she dare go that way, search for Papa?

  A hand waving in her line of vision snapped her back to Andre. His countenance softened, and he pointed to her arms and torso where all her cuts from the last twenty-odd hours stung. “Go. Find your grandfather.” He barely twitched his head at Ben. “Talk him.”

  “What about?” Raine signed back, heat rising to her cheeks. “I can’t tell him what happened!”

  Andre towered over her and gently set one hand on her shoulder. “About that, or other events in there.” Andre pointed toward the Hollows. “He know something happened. Try relax his mind. Talk maybe good for you, too.”

  Raine huffed and shoved her hair out of her face. She glared at Andre, but found she couldn’t add the intensity she wanted. “Fine. What you do?”

  “Help them.” Andre directed his signs toward the survivors working beyond them. “Find Brandon again. Support.”

  “Does he even understand sign?” Raine asked aloud, willing for Ben and Geist to be a part of their conversation now that it had moved on from her. “He seemed to follow a bit of what you said earlier, but not much.”

  Andre shrugged. “Long time. He remember with practice.”

  “Well, if you’re fine without me, I guess I’ll find Papa,” Raine said slowly, wincing internally as the words left her mouth.

  Geist rubbed his thumb along his lower lip, contemplating her, his gaze darting between Ben and Andre. He dropped his hand and strolled up to Andre. “I’ll go with you. They’ll find a job for us.” He looked at Raine over his shoulder. “Ben can go with you, but you let me know if he steps out of line. I’ll whip him back into shape for you.”

  Ben hissed something at Geist that was too low for her to hear, but she smiled regardless. “Thanks, Geist.”

  Ben closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

  A strand of pity wormed through Raine at his obvious discomfort. He knew something was off, and she’d already made him uncomfortable. “You don’t have to go with me, if you don’t want—”

  “I’m going with you.” Ben interrupted, his words almost tripping over themselves. He froze. “That is, if you don’t mind me going with you. I’d be happy to walk with you and find Finn too.” His eyes widened, and he slipped his hand into one of his pockets, pulling out a small satchel that he held out to her. “I nearly forgot. Finn gave this to me to give to you. Tea. Like you’d have after adventures and stuff.”

  Her heart skipped a beat as she sucked in a breath.

  It was odd, being so close to him as she helped support his weight, and yet it felt like miles were between them as she stared at the packet in his hand. Already, she could imagine the subtle taste of chamomile and lavender and all of Papa’s herbs that he put in their special blend after some adventure or mishap that they’d shared.

  She held out her hand to take the small bag, grateful that the leather would protect the tea from the slowly increasing rain. The fact that he sent some with Ben spoke volumes of what her grandfather had been thinking and worrying about. Gratitude for his thoughtfulness and consistent love for her threatened to bring tears to her eyes and over, but she blinked it back as fast as she could.

  “Thank you.” She hesitated, seeing nowhere to place the gift as she glanced down at her clothing, and then she dropped the satchel in her borrowed jacket pocket.

  The warmth in Ben’s smile softened some of the ache in her heart, and he gently took her cold hand and tucked it under his arm in one of the courtly gestures she’d seen nobility use. She flushed but let her hand stay on him, unwilling to admit to herself how welcome his casual, friendly touch was, and how weak it made her feel.

  If only he knew the truth.

  He’d taught her how to get out of being raped, and what had happened? She was duped, used, and dumped. And to compound the problem, she’d given herself over to blood-lust and revenge.

  He’d never look at her the same once he knew.

  So she lifted her face and tried not
to think about how this was likely the last time that Ben Dubray, fellow Void Born, would smile at her like this. Like they were friends. Like she was important to him.

  He’d be disappointed to know she failed. And horrified to know what she’d done. Then he’d finish searching for a way home to Sara, and she’d never see him again. She could fight the Elph and blood-bonded armies that were bound to come down, and she’d give her life for the sake of those trying to flee.

  She and Ben passed a heap of bodies, some blackened by Papa’s fires, others in literal pieces due to the tenacity of the blood-bond under orders. Far too many bodies wore the colors of the four nations: reds and golds, grays and whites, silver-and-black, orange-and-blue. She tucked her face closer to Ben, breathing through her mouth, trying to not smell the burnt flesh again. He placed his hand over hers, providing a gentle pressure to help distract her.

  The barracks for the Hollow guards loomed on their left, and she was unsurprised to see wounded being carried in through the wide open door. It would be the most comfortable place to be healed, without a doubt. She bit her lip. Would Papa be in there healing injured? Was he out on the field still providing triage? Was he even alive?

  Ben stopped next to a short Aerugan guard with jet black hair, tugging her to a halt. He turned to a short Aerugan guard with jet black hair. “Do you know where the sage is?”

  The guard gave a shallow bow. “If you’re looking for Sage DoPonce, then he’s currently in the barracks, top floor.”

  “Sage DoPonce?” Ben echoed. “As in, Finn?”

  The soldier’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard. “Well, yes, sir. But we don’t call him by his first name. That’s a breach of etiquette that we won’t risk when it involves a sage of his magnitude.”

  “Thank you.” Ben gave him an abbreviated nod and turned toward the barracks, muttering under his breath with a conspiratorial tone. “Think I’m going to get roasted at some point for my lack of etiquette with calling him Finn?”

  A short laugh that was half amusement, half nerves, escaped Raine as they entered the large building. Similar to the Hollows, the bottom floor was made of dirt, but wood pillars shored the hallways that would have been adits within the mine. Open doors on their left revealed windows and a handful of offices, and wounded covered every available surface.

  Ben asked for directions to the nearest staircase, and they made their way up wooden steps, the click of Ben’s boots against the acoustic surface sounding like music to Raine’s ears after so long in the sound-dampening mines.

  The barracks were half submerged under the hill, and bright luminary crystals lit the hallway after they passed the last of the windowed rooms. They turned into room 214, and Raine stumbled, gripping Ben’s arm for dear life as all breath left her lungs. Papa sat with his back to the open door, hand splayed out over an Aerugan soldier’s chest, another medic by his side, watching. She waited there, clinging to Ben without even realizing or caring, unwilling to interrupt her grandfather’s work.

  What would he say? What would he do? What should she do?

  Before she could finish the mental tirade of panic, Papa exhaled and leaned back, dropping his hand. The second medic swooped in, dabbing ointment and pulling out bandages. Papa picked up his leather bag and stood, turning around.

  Older. He looked so much older. New wrinkles lined his forehead and eyes, and what salt and pepper had been in his hair had faded to mostly salt and silver. There was no stoop to his shoulders, but he moved as if the weight of the world rested on him. Perhaps it did. His glance flicked up and his bag fell out of his hand. The invisible weight dropped off him as tears welled in his eyes. “Raine.”

  Everything in Raine shattered. She wanted to run to Papa. She wanted to hide from Papa. She wanted to sit on his lap like a little girl and cry her broken heart out. But this was not the time or place for any such vulnerability. Ben released her hand just as she was about to pull it free, and she walked calmly across the space that she now recognized as a bunk room. She hugged her Papa, breathing in the familiar scent of his pre-shave potion and the sour candies he’d eat when stressed.

  She buried her face into his neck, holding him as tightly as he held her. “Thanks for finding me.”

  He leaned back, studying her face. He touched her cheek with trembling fingers while gracing her with a strong smile. “I’ve missed you, Spook.” He directed his words over Raine’s shoulder. “You have my thanks for finding her, son.”

  She heard Ben’s soft snort and equally soft words. “Like I wouldn’t have moved heaven or hell to find her.” He raised his voice. “Of course.”

  Papa pointed Raine to a nearby bunk. “Sit and rest while I finish up here. We can catch up when I’m done.”

  * * *

  Raine stared at the familiar salt-carved ceiling of the room she’d shared with Andre. She’d had a small, unplanned nap on the bunk while waiting for Papa to finish his work. By nightfall, the barracks were so full with injured men that she’d volunteered to stay the night in the Hollows again. Why, she couldn’t even tell herself. Probably to get away from the whispers and the speculation of the prisoners and guards who knew her.

  Most were too distracted by their injuries and their slain friends to give much notice to her, but enough had seen her. Enough had the widening eyes, the clear moment of recognition. Around them was not where she wanted to be.

  Papa had understood without her even having to say it. He’d readily agreed to stay in the Hollows with her, citing that he didn’t want to miss a single moment with her. That didn’t surprise her. Ben and Geist immediately saying the same did. Knowing that they were staying in one of the cells lining the same common room as hers was equally comforting and unsettling.

  Papa had first talked about staying in the same cell as her, but she’d refused point-blank, unwilling to have him sleep on the floor as Andre had. There wasn’t much difference in comfort level between the floor and the beds, but the blankets that Andre and she had won from their pit fights provided just enough to make it unthinkable for her Papa to sleep on the floor. She’d shared half her blankets with him, and now he slept in the cramped cell next door.

  He’d waited patiently for her to talk earlier, but she only mentioned brief things: she showed her tattooed arm and shared her story of what happened, and Papa reassured her that her blood-bond hadn’t been activated if Artemis hadn’t used the stone. And then Papa had called Brandon over to show her what his stone looked like. She made it her new life goal to avoid any other crimson stones.

  But everywhere she and Papa were, there were also others. Others she didn’t want her story to be known by. She didn’t want their disgust, their stares. And so they’d gone to bed late in the night, and now she burned to talk to Papa, to get his advice, to share everything that she previously hadn’t wanted to say, but the words were right beneath the surface of her skin, bubbling at her lips, wanting to spill it all and get out the truth of how much she’d failed. How undeserving of his continued love and kindness she was.

  She slid off the side of the bed silently and moved through the pitch-black room, brushing aside the thin privacy curtain to peer into the main room. A dim luminary crystal cast faint shadows on the few effects that littered the room, but no sound of movement stirred. She glanced at Papa’s open doorway and padded to it on bare feet. She paused a moment, forcing herself to breath evenly before slipping into the dark cell.

  The sound of her Papa’s breathing soothed some of her nervousness, but filled her with a different kind of uncertainty. She couldn’t wake him. Not after all the magic he’d spent in battle and then healing as many as he did. He needed his rest. Desperately. She couldn’t be so selfish as to wake him now. Berating herself mentally, she turned back toward the door, and her foot caught on something metal that clanked to the ground. She froze, her inner chiding giving way to swearing.

  “Who’s there?” Papa’s sleep-graveled voice filled the cell, and she whirled, sudden fear of one of his fire
balls gifting her with a surge of adrenaline.

  “Just me, Papa.” Raine held up her hands in a pacifying gesture, utterly useless in the dark.

  “Raine?”

  There was the sound of movement, then light flared, breaking the dark of the mine with a brightness that had her turning away and covering her eyes while delivering one of the fouler swears she’d learned in her time here. “Flying whales of the bleeding Void, Papa, warn me before you do that!”

  Laughter tinged Papa’s voice as her eyes slowly adjusted to the luminary crystal he held. “Sorry.” He sat up on the cushion of blankets she’d given him earlier and patted a free spot. “Join me?”

  Shaking ever so slightly, but striving to bury it deep down, she sat next to him, drawing her feet up under her. Well. She was here with him now, no one else around. She’d even woken him. Now she had to actually talk. She shot him a side-glance and felt what vestiges of courage she had fade away like vapor in the sun. He knew. He knew something was wrong. She could see it, clear as the finest glass.

  He picked up her hand and traced the tiny scars that she’d earned from her years of sword training. He tapped one of the largest that cut through her tanned skin. “Remember when you got this?”

  “My first sparring match with real swords.” Raine’s lips twitched at the memory. “I had been cocky, thinking that I’d practiced so much with the wood blades that I’d be able to handle the real thing just fine. I was wrong.”

  “Mmhmm.” Papa traced over the raised bump lightly. “And I offered to heal it for you. But you said no.” His eyes pierced her with their knowing glint. “Why was that?”

  “I wanted a visual reminder to not make that mistake again.” Raine stilled. “I made a mistake here, Papa.”

  Her grandfather gently clasped her hands between his. “Tell me.”

  The compassion in his tone, the love in his gaze despite the exhaustion of the day and the lateness of the hour utterly undid her. Once she spoke of murdering Simon, everything else came tumbling out, ending with her confessing the shame that rooted deep in her heart and made her ache every time she so much as looked at Ben. She’d started with little emotion in her voice, and by the end she found herself sobbing into grandfather’s shoulder, his arms around her and stroking her hair like he’d done when she was a child after a night terror.