The King's Scrolls

by Jaye L. Knight

  Jace pulled the cloth from his mouth and took several deep breaths. “Do it.” He put the cloth back and gripped the edges of the table, resting his forehead against the surface.

  Marcus traded a look with Kyrin, and she pressed her hand to her middle. This would be the worst of all. With a fortifying breath, Marcus poured the wine onto Jace’s back and used a fresh cloth to disperse it among the wounds. Jace’s muscles jerked taut. He groaned, but it became a hoarse cry that made its way around the cloth between his teeth. Kyrin’s tears came hard and fast. She put her hand on his head, not knowing what else to do, but wanting him to know she was there. She had to bite her lip to keep from telling Marcus to stop.

  Just as he was finishing, Jace went limp and almost fell off the stool, but she and Marcus held him steady. He didn’t completely lose consciousness, because he reached up suddenly and gripped Kyrin’s arm. She rested her hand over his and squeezed it.

  “We’re almost done, Jace.” Her voice trembled.

  Kyrin wiped her eyes and glanced across the table to where her mother stood watching. She accepted a look of sympathy, grateful for any comfort at the moment.

  Marcus mopped up the excess wine, and then let Jace rest for a bit. After a few minutes, he seemed to start breathing a little easier, and Kyrin prayed it was her mother’s painkiller taking effect. Marcus then went over the rest of Jace’s injuries, most notably the deep purple bruises around his ribs.

  “Well, if the ribs aren’t broken, they’re badly bruised,” he said. “Either way, there’s not much we can do. We’ll wrap them and that might help the pain once the herbs wear off.”

  Kyrin helped him with the bandages, wrapping them snugly around Jace’s ribs, but not so tightly that it would restrict his breathing or cause further pain to his back. When Marcus reached for another roll, he looked at Liam, who sat in a chair at the side of the table.

  “You should have Mother clean your wounds and change the bandages before we have to leave.” He slid the half-empty bottle of wine across the table with an apologetic look.

  Lydia’s eyes went straight to her son. “You’re injured?” She came around the table. “Let me see.”

  Liam carefully pulled off his shirt. When Lydia began removing the bandages, she gasped at the first sight of the whip wounds that matched Jace’s. Her horrified eyes jumped to Marcus. “Who did this to them?”

  Marcus spoke in a low voice and cast his eyes down as if out of guilt. “Parker . . . under the General’s orders.”

  “My father ordered this?” Lydia gestured at Liam.

  Marcus nodded.

  Lydia stared open-mouthed, though Kyrin didn’t know why she was so surprised. Her mother looked at each of them as uncertainty took over her expression. “What’s going on? Why are you here?” She paused, fear in her eyes. “Why is Kyrin here?”

  Marcus released a hard sigh and explained, in brief, the events of the past twenty-four hours. The dismay on their mother’s face grew and reached its peak when Marcus recounted their escape.

  She touched her chest. “You deserted?”

  Marcus closed his eyes in a grimace, his tone a bit hard. “Yes, I deserted.”

  Panic rushed into Lydia’s voice. “Marcus, you must go back, you and Liam. You—”

  “I can’t.” Marcus shook his head as he straightened to face her. “I won’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m starting to see things I always tried to ignore, but I can’t anymore.” He swallowed, though his voice was rough. “If serving the emperor means accepting that my father died a traitor and letting my siblings meet the same fate, then I won’t do it. I thought I could, but I was wrong. I should never have brought Kyrin, Kaden, and Jace in. This is the consequence of that.” He gestured to Jace and Liam. “And I’m going to do anything I can to see there aren’t further consequences.”

  “But you’ll be hunted, fugitives and, if you’re caught, you’ll be executed.” Lydia’s eyes pooled. “I can’t lose any more of you.”

  Marcus sighed again, but spoke gently. “Kyrin and Kaden are already living as fugitives. If I hadn’t done this, you would have lost them forever. And Liam too.”

  Kyrin looked questioningly at her brother. She didn’t know anything about this.

  “Surely your grandfather would’ve prevented their executions,” Lydia pressed.

  Kyrin exhaled in frustration. Did her mother never see the cruelty of her own father? Was she that far removed from what took place at the fort and how horribly he’d treated Liam all these years?

  Marcus shook his head. “A prisoner transport was leaving for Valcré this morning. He would’ve put them on it, unless Kyrin and Kaden accepted his conditions, which they weren’t going to do.” Kyrin exchanged a glance with her mother while Marcus continued, “Liam already decided he was done and was prepared to join them. I did what I should’ve done from the beginning . . . protected them.”

  Lydia’s chest trembled, as if she were trying not to cry. Kyrin watched her, and it was perhaps the first time she truly looked at her since arriving. Her mother wasn’t young anymore, yet still so pretty. Her long, honey-brown hair was gathered up in a loose bun with shorter lengths falling around her smooth, ivory face. She’d matured, yet not really aged from Kyrin’s memories of her.

  But behind her beauty, Kyrin noticed other things—her fragile expression, the redness of her eyes telling of more than the emotion of the moment, and the soul-deep weariness in them. It struck Kyrin then that if they’d buried her father only two days ago, it must have been the first her mother knew of his death. She’d only been mourning for a couple of days. A chip broke off the wall around Kyrin’s heart.

  “I know this is difficult to understand,” Marcus spoke more gently. “Even I don’t fully understand it. I hope Kyrin and Kaden can explain, but I truly think what they believe, and . . . what Father believed, is true. If that’s the case, then the emperor is wrong, and I can’t continue to serve him knowing that.”

  A couple of tears dripped down Lydia’s cheeks, and she started shaking her head before he finished. But, in a moment, she wiped the wetness away, her face blank, and set about tending Liam. Marcus breathed out a long breath and helped Kyrin finish with Jace’s bandages.

  Now that they’d cared for all of Jace’s most serious injuries, Marcus let Kyrin take over to clean the bloodied cuts on his face. Gently, she pushed some of his hair back and dabbed the cloth around the gash near his brow. He glanced up at her, and she met his eyes. Pain still resided in them, but not as great as before. She hoped he knew the depth of her relief that they had not left him behind. Though she’d only known him for a few months, she couldn’t imagine not having him in her life.

  Behind Kyrin, Marcus said, “He’ll need fresh clothes.”

  “I can get some of mine,” Liam offered as their mother finished with his bandages. He rose, and she helped him pull his shirt back on before he left the room.

  A brief moment of silence followed as Lydia started gathering up the scattered medical supplies. Finally, she asked in a tired voice, “What will you do now?”

  “Kaden will meet us here any time,” Marcus said. “After that, they’ll show us where to go.”

  “Your grandfather will be looking for you.”

  “That’s why we split up. Jace wouldn’t have made it farther than this.”

  The conversation died when someone else stepped into the room—an elderly, but sturdy-looking man. Kyrin’s heart reacted in warm familiarity.

  “What’s going on here?” His bright blue eyes landed on her and rounded. “Kyrin?”

  Unlike his wife, Ethel, Carl was a friendly, easy-going sort of man who had always fascinated Kyrin and her brothers with his fanciful stories. He’d been much more like a grandfather than the General. It helped that he’d had a soft spot for Kyrin. A smile came to her face for the first time in what must have been days. Without hesitation, she went to hug him.

  “My goodness, is it reall
y you?” he said looking her over. “Where’s the wide-eyed little girl I used to sneak candy to?”

  “All grown up, sadly,” Kyrin responded with a half-smile.

  “But lovelier than ever; just like your mother.”

  Kyrin ducked her head. “Thank you.”

  When she raised her eyes again, they shared a look that went beyond words. Despite Carl’s bright eyes, the sorrow Kyrin wasn’t sure would ever fade settled in his expression. He and her father had always been good friends.

  Carl cleared his throat and looked from her to Jace and then to Marcus. “Trouble at the fort?”

  “You could say that.” Suddenly looking as weary as their mother, Marcus sat down and went into another explanation. Carl didn’t say too much, but Kyrin sensed from his manner that he condoned Marcus’s actions. After all, he’d never thought too much of the General, from what Kyrin remembered.

  When Liam returned with a stack of fresh clothing for Jace, Kyrin and her mother stepped out of the room while Marcus and Carl helped him change. In the hall just outside the doorway, Kyrin leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. The emotions of the last twenty-four hours had left her exhausted, but she took the quiet few moments to thank Elôm both for their escape and for sparing Jace. She also prayed for Kaden’s safety. Please don’t let him have been caught.

  Marcus called her back into the room a couple of minutes later. To see Jace cleaned up did Kyrin’s heart good. With the herbs in full effect, he seemed more like himself. He even offered a hint of a smile as she approached him.

  “Feel better?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She knew it would take weeks before the pain of his injuries, especially his bruised ribs, would subside, but at least they’d made him as comfortable as possible. She’d just reached out to help straighten his collar that was a little crooked, when an unfamiliar voice came from behind her.

  “Mother, what’s going on?”

  Kyrin’s breath snagged. Her heart gave a deep thud, and she turned around. Two boys stood in the doorway—one thirteen and the other ten. Both had brown hair a little darker than Lydia’s, but the same brown eyes. The older one stood a bit tall for his age. They looked at her in curiosity, but something more lit the eyes of the eldest.

  “Boys,” Lydia said after a moment that seemed to stand still. “This is your sister, Kyrin.”

  Their eyes went wide. Kyrin stepped around the table to stand before them. Tears rose and thickened her throat, but she smiled as she focused on the older boy. “Hello, Michael.”

  Hearing her speak seemed to confirm the realness of her presence. Michael said her name and stepped into her arms. The tears spilled over as she hugged her brother tightly. She’d imagined this moment innumerable times over the years. It was nothing like she’d dreamed, but so much more, filling her heart up to bursting with how much she’d missed them. She then turned to her youngest brother. “Hello, Ronny.”

  His smile came slowly, but full of wonder. They too hugged, and then Kyrin looked at them both.

  “It’s so good to see you. I know you don’t remember me, but I remember you.” She shook her head at the memories she had of them—Michael toddling around when he’d first learned to walk and tiny Ronny cradled in her arms. “You were just babies.”

  “What are you doing here?” Michael asked.

  Kyrin hesitated, not sure how to explain, but their mother stepped in. “Her friend was injured and needed help, so they came here.”

  “Will you be here long?” Michael wanted to know.

  Kyrin sighed. If only they could. How could she finally meet her little brothers and then just leave? “I’m afraid we can’t.”

  Her two brothers shared her disappointment.

  Michael scanned the room before his gaze returned to her. “Is Kaden here too?”

  “No, but he should meet us here soon.” Kyrin prayed this was so. He should be there any time. If it grew much later, she would truly worry.

  The prospect of meeting Kaden brought a sparkle of excitement back to her brothers’ eyes. But, as with their mother, Kyrin saw more—the sorrow just under the surface. Both had shadows beneath their eyes, and Ronny seemed pale for an energetic young boy of his age. The heartache that stabbed Kyrin’s chest in that moment snatched her breath. She was only one of six struggling with the loss of their father, and Michael and Ronny were so young. Not only that, but they wouldn’t truly know why their father had died like she did. All they would know were the lies.

  Kyrin was glad when her mother spoke again, because her voice was gone.

  “Do you want breakfast?” she asked, looking between Kyrin and Marcus. “Ethel and I can make something quick.”

  Marcus glanced at Kyrin and nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

  Appearing relieved to have that to do, Lydia picked up the basin from the table to take to the kitchen. Kyrin stared at the remaining supplies. It didn’t seem right to leave them until her mother or Ethel came back for them. Fighting reluctance, she picked them up and followed her mother.

  In one corner of the house across the hall, she came into the warm kitchen. The fire burned brightly, and she could almost smell the gingerbread cookies she and Kaden used to love. A tiny smile tugged at her lips at the memories of how Ethel used to shoo Kaden out, scolding him for sneaking cookies from the cooling racks. Just like sneaking into the kitchen at Tarvin Hall. Some things never changed.

  The memories evaporated when her mother turned to her. Feeling uncomfortable now, alone with only her and Ethel, Kyrin avoided eye contact and walked over to the counter to set the supplies down. There, her eyes were drawn out the window to the backyard. Out across the frosted, wilting grass lay a mound of fresh dirt and a bleak, gray stone. Everything inside Kyrin went still. It took a long moment before she noticed her mother at her side. She gasped a little, her lungs depleted of air, and looked into her mother’s eyes. Moisture pooled at the rims, and Kyrin’s welled too. Her voice scratchy and halting, she said, “That’s why we came.” She nodded out the window. “That’s why Marcus found us on the road.”

  Lydia gave a short nod as she looked away from Kyrin, blinking her own tears away.

  Kyrin glanced out the window again and then returned to the dining room. Now that she’d seen it, the grave drew her despite her growing fear to face it. She picked up her coat and pulled it on. Glancing at each of her brothers and Jace, she said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  No one replied. She walked into the hall and let herself out the back door. It was still cold, but warming up, and the sky was clearing. Kyrin forced herself to breathe steadily and keep moving, but her feet slowed as she drew near. That was the moment it truly sank in; shattering the walls and barriers she had built to protect herself from the sorrow. Her steps slow and shaky, she went the final couple of yards and struggled to read the gravestone through her tears. Only three words. William Altair. Traitor.

  Teardrops rolled down her cheeks, and she dropped her eyes to the fresh mound of earth. Small sobs hitched in her chest. A week ago, her father had been with her—had embraced her and spoken with her. How could this grave be all that was left of him? The tears flowed heavier, and the cries deeper, shaking her shoulders as she hugged her arms around herself in loss.

  “Father,” she cried, desperate for his voice. Choking, she looked up at the sky. “Why? Why did he have to die?”

  Her chin dropped back to her chest as the grief crushed down, but a memory—as clear and vivid as if she were reliving it—entered her mind. She was in Auréa Palace with her father just after her promotion.

  “The trouble with Marcus is his devotion to his duty as a soldier. To believe in the King, he would have to realize that his loyalty and dedication to the emperor and his gods are for naught. I’m afraid it would take a miracle.”

  He was right, and she’d known it.

  “Maybe Elôm will give us a miracle.”

  She could see the small smile come to her father’s f
ace and hear the hope in his voice.

  “We will pray so.”

  Right there, Kyrin understood that Elôm had given her an answer. This was why. Her father’s death had been the one thing powerful enough to open Marcus’s eyes—to get him to question and to see. This was their miracle.

  She covered her face and wept into her hands.

  “It worked,” she whispered, her lips trembling. Though her father couldn’t hear her, she had to say it, if only for herself. “Marcus is beginning to see and believe. I know you would tell me it was all worth it, and I believe it, but it’s so hard. I wish you were here. I miss you . . . and I love you so much. I can’t wait to see you again. It’s so hard to go on without you.”

  She wiped her sleeves across her cheeks, though a few more tears fell in spite of it. For a minute or two, she stood quietly—praying and remembering. When she sensed someone near, she looked over her shoulder. Her mother stood a few feet away, her eyes glimmering and her reddened cheeks tracked with moisture. Kyrin slowly turned to face her.

  Lydia licked her lips. “I know there’s a lot to work through between us . . .” She winced. “But I want you to know, despite the way it may have appeared at times, I loved your father. I’ve not always done the right thing, but I did love him. And I know how much you loved him. I’m so very sorry you’ve lost him. If I could do something . . . I would.”

  Kyrin squeezed her eyes shut to hold back another flood of emotion. The struggle raged between hurts and forgiveness—love and pain. She’d felt betrayed, abandoned even, by her mother, and was afraid to trust her again. They were both hurting and needed each other, yet the past was so hard to let go.

  Her heart pounded—steady, thudding beats that echoed inside her head with the rolling thoughts. Then her eyes popped open. It wasn’t her heart—not entirely.

  Horses.

  The rumble of galloping horses approached hard and fast. Kyrin and her mother looked toward the house and then at each other in shared fear. The back door burst open a second later, and Marcus, Liam, and Jace rushed out.