Memory of War

by Michelle Lynn

  The black-clad soldiers scrambled to follow the order.

  “Do we chase them, Your Yighness?” Adrian asked, appearing a few paces away

  Marcus looked around at the wounded soldiers. Those who weren’t hurt were exhausted. “No.”

  “What are you doing with him?” Adrian jogged towards the woman, who wasn’t following her fellow soldiers back across the border. “Marcus, did she hurt you?”

  “No. She…” He bit through the pain. “She saved me.” His legs weakened beneath him and the woman’s arms slipped from him as he fell. The ground came rushing towards him and the last thing he remembered was the way the dirt swirled with his blood.

  Chapter 3

  Marcus. The voice sounded familiar. Marcus. He knew the man’s name. What was it? His head swam as he struggled to force his eyes open. Darkness greeted him. A light moved closer, it’s glow illuminating the face of the man holding the candle.

  “Brother.”

  “Drake,” Marcus groaned, pain radiating out from his side.

  His wound. The battle.

  He closed his eyes again and sucked in a heavy breath. “Father.”

  Drake’s perpetually grim face grew darker. “He was found on the battlefield. His body is being prepared to transport back to the palace.”

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re still in the healer’s tent. Adrian brought you here yesterday. We weren’t sure you would survive.”

  Did he detect worry in his little brother’s voice? Probably not. Drake was the dour prince. Only a year younger than Marcus, he didn’t like to seem as if he cared about anything. In truth, he cared more than most.

  Marcus may have been the heir, but Drake was the one who wanted to be king.

  As far as brotherly bonds went, theirs was strong even with their differences. Drake was the better swordsman. His talent was unmatched. And he’d use that sword to protect Marcus’ reign.

  His reign. He was going to be crowned. He wished more than anything for his father’s guidance.

  Shifting on the cot, Marcus’ attempted to push himself into a seated position. Healers weren’t able to use their magic to repair the body, but they could speed the process up. Still, his limbs felt as if they’d been beaten repeatedly with a heavy club.

  “Tell me what I’ve missed.”

  Drake scratched his chin and pulled his eyebrows together. “King Bearne was killed in the battle as well. Calis now controls the forces. He pulled them back across the border to lick their wounds.”

  “Calis,” he growled. There wasn’t a man on this earth he hated more than the prince of Dreach-Dhoun who was now set to be king. He was arrogant, cruel, and had no care for innocent life. The firing of the village days before the battle would have been his doing. He was the most powerful sorcerer in Dreach-Dhoun.

  “Someone needs to kill him.” Anger flashed in Drake’s eyes.

  Marcus nodded in agreement.

  “We took heavy losses. It’ll take time to regain the army’s strength.”

  Marcus swung his legs off the bed. “We’ll pull back to the palace and allow Adrian to take his force home to Whitecap. Winter is almost upon us so we may as well send the Sona troops as well. As soon as the snows thaw, we’ll call them back to Aldorwood.” He tried to stand, but his brother stopped him and he fell back onto the bed.

  “You need rest.”

  “No, Drake, I need to lead.”

  Drake shook his head and ran a hand through his short-cropped inky hair. It was a far cry from Marcus’ longer locks.

  “We’ve caught ourselves a break.” Drake’s lips quirked up into what could almost be called a smile.

  Marcus sighed. “Spit it out.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “We have a prisoner. One of some value.”

  Marcus jerked his eyes to his brother, suddenly remembering the redhead from the battle. “Who is she?”

  “She claims to be the daughter of Ramsey Kane.”

  Marcus sucked in a breath. “Ramsey Kane of the Tri-Gard?”

  “The very one. She asked to be taken to Father to prove it, but of course, that’s impossible.”

  Questions floated through Marcus’ mind. Questions he’d discussed with his father many times in the past few years. Why were two of the Tri-Gard members traveling with the Dreach-Dhoun army? Their sacred duty called for impartiality. Their allegiance wasn’t supposed to be to any man or country. It was to the earth. To the balance of the magic.

  “I must speak with her.” Marcus pushed himself up, managing to stay on his feet this time. Drake didn’t offer help as he led them out into the camp.

  The prisoner was being kept in a tent nearby with two soldiers standing guard. They stepped aside for Marcus and Drake.

  The daughter of Ramsey Kane looked up when the two princes entered, her face a mask of stubborn pride.

  The rattle of chains rang in Marcus’ ears. He jerked his eyes to her ankles, which were clapped in fetters.

  Shaking his head, he turned to his brother. “Unchain her.”

  He stared back dumbly.

  “Drake, I know you have the key. Who else would chain the woman who saved my life like an animal?”

  Drake growled an unintelligible word before pulling out a key and removing her chains.

  The woman rubbed her ankles. “Thank you.”

  Marcus nudged his brother towards the door. “Out.”

  Drake narrowed his eyes. “You’re injured. I’m not leaving you alone with an enemy soldier.”

  “Then stand guard outside with the others if it makes you feel better. I will speak with her without you scowling at every word.”

  Drake huffed and turned on his heel. When he was gone, Marcus studied the woman in front of him. Her wild hair was still crusted with blood and dirt that also streaked down her face. She’d removed her chainmail and tossed it aside. Her black tunic was mostly intact, save for a few tears earned during the fight.

  She watched him with a wariness in her eyes. “I wish to speak with the king.”

  “The king is dead.” The words hurt him to speak. “You will speak with me.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Marcus Renauld. King-to-be and Toha of Dreach-Sciene.”

  She rose to her feet and squared her shoulders. “I am Marissa Kane. My father told me I could trust the king of Dreach-Sciene.”

  “Ah, but can the king trust you?”

  She reached into her shirt and pulled out a pendant on a golden chain that hung at her throat. He’d seen the tree representing the third Tri-Gard member before. Ramsey Kane’s earth magic.

  Marissa squared her shoulders. “My father is unable to leave Calis Bearne’s army. Briggs Villard is a prisoner there. If Calis were to get his hands on Lonara Stone, the Tri-Gard will be complete and who knows what Dreach-Dhoun can force them to do.”

  Marcus scratched the back of his neck. “Our spies tell us that Ramsey Kane is there of his own free will. He is allowed free roam of camp. Those same spies say you are to wed Calis.”

  Her lip curled. “I will never tie myself to that man.” Her eyes burned into his. “Tell me, King-to-be, do you enjoy killing? Do you relish the feel of warm blood on your hands or the sight of the light leaving someone’s eyes?”

  Marcus took a step back and swallowed hard. “No. We kill because we must, not because we can.”

  The anger left her eyes. “Calis kills because of the pleasure it brings him. That is why he will win this war. There is no line he won’t cross.”

  “If protecting my people costs me the war, it must be done. What use is winning if I lose my soul in the process?”

  “I don’t want to go back there,” she said suddenly. “I can’t. My father was right. I think I can follow you. I want to fight for you. For the people who cannot fight for themselves.”

  “You saved my life,” he said, remembering those final moments. “For that, I owe you everything. I will repay the debt.”

  A commotion sounded outs
ide. The tent flap rustled before Wren ran through, with Drake on his heels.

  “I heard they had a prisoner here,” he said excitedly. “When they spoke of your hair, I knew it was you.” He ran to Marissa and threw his arms around her.

  Marcus and Drake looked to each other in confusion.

  “Wren,” Marcus said slowly. “I’m glad you’re safe, but where have you been? Your father said you ran off before the battle.”

  The boy looked over his shoulder with a sheepish grin. “I went into the village. My dog ran and I chased him.”

  Shock froze Marcus’ next words. Drake didn’t seem to have that problem. He gripped the boy by the back of his shirt and pulled him away from Marissa. “You were there when the army showed up?”

  Fear entered Wren’s gaze, and he nodded quickly. “But Marissa was there. She fought off the Dreach-Dhoun soldiers who came after me. It was brilliant. I’ve never seen a woman fight like that. Why is she being kept in here?” He tugged on Marcus’ arm. “She’s a hero. You let her go.”

  Drake scowled at the boy and threw him over his shoulder. “Your father has been worried sick. I’ll take you to him.”

  Alone with Marissa once again, Marcus turned confused eyes on her. She’d fought for an unknown boy surrounded by men who’d kill her for doing so. She was either the bravest or stupidest woman he’d ever met.

  But he couldn’t help the respect that rose up. “You’ll come with us to the palace. If you tell us everything we want to know, you’ll no longer be a prisoner.” His injury tugged at him as he turned and left the tent.

  Going to his own tent instead of the healer’s, he collapsed onto his cot. As he soaked in the darkness, he thought of his father. Would he have trusted the girl? What would he have thought of her strange beauty or willful speech?

  “Father,” he whispered. “I’m not ready to lead. I need your guidance.”

  As he drifted off to sleep, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

  * * *

  The army moved out a few days after the battle, once the injured could be transported back to the palace. It took over a week to make the trek from the border, and Marissa found herself mostly in the company of Marcus Renauld.

  They hadn’t allowed her to draw magic from the ground and still kept a close watch on her. She felt her depleted magic inside, begging to be rejuvenated. The earth called to her with its song. and she couldn’t answer.

  Instead, she had to answer each of the king-to-be’s questions regarding Calis’ forces. She knew everything from numbers to deployment to where the camps were located. They were only weeks away from winter descending upon them and halting the war until spring awoke in the mountains along the border. The army split off as it reached Aldorwood, with only a small force making the rest of the journey to the palace. Many of the soldiers would be able to return home for the winter, assuming they still had homes to return to. Marissa has seen many of the villages in Dreach-Sciene burn.

  The palace was nothing like she’d expected. It sat high on a hill overlooking a thriving village. The winding stone path gave way to pine-covered dirt as they journeyed through the patch of woods between the palace and the village.

  Stone towers rose high, but they weren’t the bleak grey stone of Dreach-Dhoun. These were made of reds and browns that extended a warmth beyond the walls.

  Every time she’d returned home to the palace of Dreach-Dhoun over the years, a chill entered her heart.

  This was different.

  She was so very far from everything she knew. From the only family she’d ever had.

  A smile split her face because she knew in that instant, she was where she belonged.

  Chapter 4

  The great hall was a hive, buzzing with task-less servants with nothing to do but stare. The guards at least had the decency to avert their eyes from the woman wailing as she collapsed to her knees.

  Marcus had sent no messenger to tell of their coming. He couldn’t risk his mother hearing it from anyone but him and his brother.

  Her shoulders shook and Marcus rushed forward. Ignoring the stares of his people, he knelt in front of the one person who loved his father more than he . She fell forward into his lap, her fragile frame dwarfed by his larger one.

  He’d inherited his size from his father. Drake had the misfortune of sharing their mother’s stature. It was the reason he’d practiced harder than everyone at swordplay. He overcompensated with skill.

  “This is not the way the royal family should appear in public,” Drake mumbled under his breath.

  Marcus shot him a glare.

  “He shouldn’t have been in the battle,” Ariana Renauld quaked.

  “I know.” Marcus smoothed her hair back. “But …”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “I know your father.” She raised her bloodshot eyes to the crowd surrounding them. The princes’ traveling party had yet to be dismissed, so they stood uncomfortably near the wall. “Dear me, your father would be ashamed of me.”

  She wasn’t exactly wrong, but disappointed was a more accurate description. Marcus knew his father to be the strongest man in Dreach-Sciene. He thought showing strength to the people would allow them to find their own power. He never would have let them see him in such a state.

  But royals were people too, and Marcus gave the villagers more credit than his father did.

  “Where is he?” she asked.

  Marcus met his brother’s eyes. Mourning for a king was a drawn-out process that they didn’t have time for. They needed to prepare to survive the winter and fight again. He’d mourn when the war was over.

  Drake wouldn’t meet their mother’s eyes. “He’s being prepared for the pyre.”

  She gasped, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. Shaking her head, she got to her feet. “No.”

  “Mother, he would not have wanted our focus shifted.” A frown pulled at the corners of Drake’s mouth.

  “How many days has he been dead?”

  She said the last word so harshly, Marcus flinched.

  “Nigh on two weeks.”

  “You would burn him before a full thirty moons have passed?”

  Drake scowled. “Like there’s a choice.” Turning on his heel, he marched from the room.

  Marcus wrapped an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “It’s the right thing, mother. We can’t have the entire palace in mourning. The freezes are coming, and once the snow thaws in the mountains, Dreach-Dhoun will be marching again.”

  Tears hung in her lashes, but she nodded. Ariana was a smart woman. She shook out the wrinkles in her flared olive dress and scanned the onlookers, narrowing her eyes. The servants jumped to attention and hurried off to get back to work.

  * * *

  The room Marissa had been dumped in was different than she’d expected. It wasn’t the prison cell she thought she’d be forced to endure until she gained the prince’s trust. It seemed Marcus Renauld of Dreach-Sciene was not the brute Calis spoke of.

  Rays of light streamed through her window as she padded across the plush carpet to warm herself by the fire.

  She must have still been asleep when someone came in to start it. A tray laden with fruits and cheeses sat on the table. Very little fruit grew in Dreach-Dhoun. When she was a girl, her father sent her to Lonara Stone for training on the Isle of Sona. There, she’d lived among citrus trees and palm trees, feasting on juicy oranges and creamy coconuts. She hadn’t had anything so fine since.

  Popping a grape into her mouth on the way by, she went straight for the door. It would tell her all she needed to know. Was she a prisoner? Or was she no considered an ally?

  Her father pushed her towards this moment when she may possibly have the trust of another king.

  Her fingers wrapped around the knob, and she twisted. The door opened as she pushed forward and a relieved sigh escaped her lips. Ally, then.

  Stepping out into the bustling corridor, she sidestepped a page who ran down the hall and almost collided with a young maid.<
br />
  “Excuse me, mistress.” The maid dipped into a tiny curtsy and continued on her way.

  Had word gotten out about her identity? Eyes followed her, burning into her back. She looked down, realizing she’d put on the only thing she owned; a tattered black tunic with Calis’ crest on the chest.

  No wonder they were suspicious.

  Her feet picked up speed until she was running through the halls. She turned the corner and kept going until she came upon a door with sunlight pushing through the crack at the bottom. Shoving it open, she pushed out into the fresh morning air and stopped as it slammed shut behind her.

  The most beautiful garden she’d ever seen stretched before her, enclosed by a high moss-covered wall. A pale brick path wound through the expanse of flowering pushes and lively trees. It was a tapestry of the brightest colors imaginable.

  There, in that place, she heard the earth louder than she ever had. It called to her, and her feet began moving of their own accord. A wide tree with buds of yellow stood tall in the center, the rest of the garden spiraling out from the focal point.

  She was drawn to it.

  As she got closer, the sound of a woman sobbing reached her ears. She rounded the base and stood still.

  The queen knelt on the ground with her face buried in her arms. She no longer looked like the respectable, older woman she was known to be. The tears stole her years, reducing her to little more than a girl.

  Calis would have loved to see the great Ariana Renauld so weakened. He’d revel in how his armies brought Dreach-Sciene to the edge of mourning and then didn’t let them grieve.

  But Marissa knew better. She was once one of the greatest fighters in the Dreach-Dhoun army, but she’d been weak still for one reason. She had nothing she was fighting for.

  Tears didn’t make Ariana any less formidable. If anything, they made her stronger. She loved her family enough to risk her tears. She had those who would fight for her, cry over her.

  Marissa had her father, but even that was not the same. She left him behind without a second thought because she wanted a reason. A reason she fought. A reason she killed. A reason she may die.