A War for Truth

by M. Lynn

  In the dim light of the fire, she could barely see the color flood his face.

  She pushed herself up, so she was sitting and pulled her knees in to rest her chin on them.

  “You were dreaming?” he asked.

  “About Ella.” She blinked back tears.

  He looked unsure for a moment before moving to her side and patting her back awkwardly. Only last week, she’d been comforting him over his own loss.

  They couldn’t escape it—this feeling. The world was crumbling around them, but it was the pain of their individual losses that brought them to their knees.

  A question burned in the back of her mind as she went over everything her father said and did. He’d been there for a reason. “Where was Royce?” she asked suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Royce. My brother. He’s always at my father’s side ready to do his dirtiest work, but he didn’t come to Cullenspire. Why?”

  “I don’t pretend to know any of your father’s reasons.” Trystan held his hands closer to the fire for warmth.

  “No, you don’t understand. There is always a plan, always a purpose.” She thought for a moment. “He’d only show up without my brother if Royce had a more important task.” Her eyes widened as realization struck her. “He never meant to win that fight in Cullenspire. The retreat was planned as well. He hadn’t come for the fight, nor to take you and Briggs to Dreach-Dhoun. What was the single most important thing he did?”

  Trystan’s brow furrowed. “He brought us news of my uncle’s actions.”

  “Yes.” She nodded quickly. “He told you your throne had been taken.”

  “You think he was lying?”

  “No. I think he wanted us to go back to the palace. Calis doesn’t want us crossing into Dreach-Dhoun where we’d have access to the magic in the land.”

  “So he made a deal with my uncle.” Trystan was catching on.

  “Royce will be there. I’m sure of it. Just as I’m sure your uncle is going to try to kill you.”

  Without thinking, she took his hand in hers and laced their fingers together. “I don’t want you to die.”

  “Because if I die, we may never unite the Tri-Gard.”

  “No, you idiot.” She sighed and leaned against his side. He stiffened for a moment before relaxing. “Because my heart’s been broken too many times. Once more and I’m not sure I’ll be able to piece it back together again.”

  A sad smile flitted across his lips. “If I were Davi, I’d make a joke about you actually caring about me.”

  “If you were Davi, you’d get away with it.” She rested her cheek against his shoulder.

  “I miss him.” His breath whooshed out and his eyes flicked to Rissa. “I can’t say that to Ri.”

  “I miss Ella.” A tear slid down her cheek.

  “And my father.”

  She smiled at that. “My father used to tell me stories of yours—none of them flattering. He spoke of your father as if he was a coward who let the magic be taken, conveniently leaving out the part about him siding with Calis when they captured the Tri-Gard.”

  Trystan stiffened beside her, so she was quick to speak again. “I didn’t believe him. Marcus Renauld was a good king.”

  “He was.” Trystan’s voice thickened.

  “You’ll be a good king too.”

  He forced out a laugh. “You wouldn’t have said that back when we first met.”

  “Yes, I would have. I was just difficult and… unhappy. I’m sorry.”

  “Please don’t apologize. You brought me out of my sheltered life among the palace elite. Don’t ever be sorry for that.” He was quiet for a moment. “I may not even win my throne back, let alone sit in it with honor.”

  “You will.”

  “You really believe in me?”

  “People will follow you, Trystan. Let’s face it, I could probably best you with a sword. I have more knowledge of your own kingdom than you do. But someone like me could never rule. You know why?”

  He shook his head.

  “Because nobody likes me. I’m brash and stubborn and yes, sometimes cruel. But not you. People will follow you. They will put their lives on the line for you. I don’t care if you’re the noble man that stupid prophecy spoke of. Even if you’re not, you’re the one who is going to save us. I know it.”

  As soon as the last word left her mouth, Trystan turned. Alixa felt his eyes on her and she sucked in a breath.

  “What?” Her voice came out soft. “Why are you looking at me?”

  He reached forward to trail his fingertips down her cheek and she leaned into his touch.

  “You have so much faith in me,” he whispered.

  Her lips curved up, and she finally looked at him. “Well, yeah. I’m not an idiot. Even I can see you were born for-.”

  He cut her words off by pressing his lips to hers. Shock froze her, and she didn’t respond. An overwhelming urge to run washed over her. The rightful king of Dreach-Sciene was kissing her, the daughter of a traitor duke. But it was Trystan, she reminded herself. Just Trystan.

  And one day he’d have to marry someone from a family who wasn’t only spoken of in hushed voices.

  It was too much when her heart was still broken. His was too and so she made a decision that was best for the both of them. She pushed away from him and blew a dark curl out of her face.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, running a hand over the top of his head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, her voice shaking.

  “No, it’s not. I just… since Davi… I haven’t had anyone to talk to. Rissa is in no place to think about anything other than her own grief. My best friend…” He wiped at his tired eyes. “I took advantage of your friendship and it was a horrid thing for a king to do.”

  “Hey.” She touched his arm gently. “It’s okay. Really.”

  He let out a strangled laugh. “I think I liked it better when you were mean to me.”

  She surprised him by slapping him upside the head. “You’re an asshole. Seriously, the biggest idiot king I’ve ever read about in all the histories of Dreach-Sciene. You’re going to get us all killed, Trystan Renauld.” She shot him a grin. “Better?”

  “Much.” He pointed to her bedroll. “Now, try to get some sleep. You were practically falling off your horse yesterday.”

  She rolled her eyes but settled back under her blanket. This time when she closed her eyes, there was nothing but peaceful emptiness.

  The morning light brought with it the realizations of a new day. They were once again traveling to Whitecap to gather anyone loyal to the rightful king.

  Ella was still dead.

  With a fresh mind came clarity. There would be a time for grief when all the battles had been won. But now was a time to fight. A time to get vengeance for the ones who were no longer with them.

  Alixa sidled up beside Edric as he packed the saddlebags on his horse.

  “You’re really going to kill him?” Edric asked.

  “If it’s the last thing I do,” she responded.

  He nodded and flipped the bag closed before turning to her. Fire burned in his gaze. “Make it hurt.”

  “I’ll make him regret the day he ever laid eyes on Ella.”

  He grunted. “Royce is mine.”

  She nodded once in agreement.

  For you, Ella, she thought. And for everyone else they’ve hurt.

  Chapter 10

  The dreams had stopped, and Davi finally settled into a comfort at the palace. It was as if his mind was free of some force that had held it hostage for so long. As if it no longer had to fight.

  Gone was the sense that there was something he was forgetting. It was replaced by a singular purpose. Get revenge for his years in captivity.

  He liked the palace at night. It no longer seemed cold to him. Instead, he felt protected. It was a formidable fortress built to show the strength of Dreach-Dhoun, his father, his kingdom.

  He’d gr
own accustomed to the constant ringing of blades. To the blacksmith shop that always had the fires going for new armor and weapons. His father was building a force the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the days of Trystan the Bold.

  It was a tale told to children in Dreach-Dhoun as a warning about what too much magic can do to you. Trystan died. Just the name of the man from legend set him aflame because it was shared by his enemy.

  He took the steps two at a time, enjoying the burn as he climbed to the top of the tower. A fierce pride bloomed in his chest as he scanned the horizons. One day, it would all be his. He’d be king.

  After a while, he climbed back down and greeted the guards stationed around the palace. They only acknowledged him formally, but it didn’t stop his friendly grin. He wanted someone to talk to him as more than the prince. To stop being so scared of his father. But none of them did. When they sparred with him, they let him win. The last time, he’d thrown his sword across the practice yard and stormed away. The guards behind him muttered about just how like his father he was.

  He longed to talk to his cousin. Lorelai didn’t treat him like a broken prince who’d known more years as a prisoner than free. But his father was keeping them apart. He didn’t fully trust Lorelai, but Davi couldn’t figure out why.

  Screw it. Before long, he found himself walking towards her rooms. If she was sleeping, he wouldn’t bother her, but his father couldn’t control the one friendship he had, possibly the only one he’d ever had. Did prisoners make friends? He rubbed his jaw, the stubble scratching his fingers.

  He needed a shave.

  But he kind of liked it. He’d never worn a beard before. As least he didn’t think so. He still didn’t trust all his memories.

  Lorelai’s hall was dark except for a single torch along the wall, but the orange flow from the fire seeped out beneath her door. Would she have put it out before going to sleep?

  He stopped outside her door and raised his hand to knock, freezing when a loud grunt sounded through the wood.

  It was followed by a rhythmic slapping and a grin formed on Davi’s face. Arching a brow, he turned to go, proud of his cousin for taking what she wanted.

  Then he heard it. The tiniest whimper of pain. Figuring he imagined it, he waited. A muffled “no” filled the air before Lorelai cried out.

  Davi didn’t think twice before twisting the door handle to open it. Locked. “Dammit,” he snapped. He could really have used his magic right then, but it’d been a while since he was outside and he was drained.

  Scanned the door quickly, he realized there was only one thing he could do. He stepped back and took a running start to slam his shoulder into it. Wood cracked, but it didn’t budge. So he did it again. And again.

  An angry “Shove off” came from the room, and pain seared through Davi’s shoulder.

  He growled. It was no use.

  But he didn’t stop. He started to run at it again but the door was yanked open and Davi’s momentum carried him right into the chest of the naked man yelling at him to go away.

  “Davi,” Lorelai shrieked, lunging for a robe to cover herself.

  The man righted himself again, turning cold eyes on the intruder. Davi didn’t meet his gaze as his eyes darted wildly around the room, his heart slamming against his ribs. A broken chair sat to the side of the rumpled bed and clothes were strewn everywhere, but his eyes landed on his cousin, and the tears streaking down her face. She didn’t bother to wipe them away.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, directing the question to her, not the man who was sizing him up.

  At least he’d found someone who didn’t care that he was the prince.

  “Lorelai and I have an arrangement that’s no business of yours,” he drawled.

  “She’s my family, it is my business.” Remembering their conversation in the tavern, Davi pointed to the man. “Is this the guy?”

  Lorelai nodded.

  Davi finally met the man head on. “My cousin is no whore. She does not trade secrets for her dignity.”

  His lip curled up. “Hate to break it to you, prince, but she already has.” He narrowed his eyes. “What’s to keep me from telling the king that his greatest enemy’s blood is on my hands and not his darling niece’s?

  “Thom, please.” Lorelai scrambled forward.

  He stepped towards her, studying her face. “Slut.” It happened so fast. He raised his hand and backhanded Lorelai. Hard. She twisted to the side and fell back.

  Davi lunged. The man had no clothes for Davi to grab on to, so he slammed his shoulders back against the wall before slicing his fist through the air and connecting it to the other man’s jaw. Davi didn’t stop. Anger burst free of him and he pummeled the man who could bring his cousin down.

  Davi took a fist to the eye but spun away before another hit could reach him. The man advanced and Davi was ready.

  What he wasn’t ready for was the knife the man swiped from the table. He leaped for Davi, but the prince easily avoided the blade.

  The two men stared at each other for a long moment.

  “You’re a traitor. Look at you all cozy in Dreach-Dhoun when only months ago, you were enjoying life as a favorite of king Marcus.”

  Davi growled. “You’re lying.” He hated Dreach-Sciene. They’d kept him prisoner. How dare this foolish man say otherwise? He didn’t know a thing.

  Davi knocked the knife from the man’s grip and flipped it in his own hand. His blood boiled with a desire to gut the man who would dare call him a traitor. Who would take advantage of his cousin? He flicked his eyes to Lorelai for the briefest of moments. He knew what he had to do.

  His mouth set in a grim line as he advanced, blocking every jab directed his way. He didn’t like it, but sometimes evil things must be done.

  The man pressed up against the wall, fear finally breaking through his cold glare.

  He jumped forward to try to take the knife and in one swift jerk of his arm, Davi buried it up to the hilt in the man’s neck. Blood sprayed free, speckling Davi’s skin with the evidence of what he’d done.

  Surprised etched across the man’s face as he crumpled to the ground.

  Lorelai ran to Davi’s side to watch the final gurgles from the man’s throat and then took Davi’s hand and led him to the wash basin.

  “Dav,” she whispered. “Look at me.”

  When he did, he hardly saw her. All he saw was the blood on his hands. All he felt was the adrenaline coursing through him.

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d hate himself for what he’d done, what he was feeling.

  Exhilarated.

  Energized.

  Powerful.

  All he’d known was captivity. Now he was the captor. He had the power.

  Lorelai dabbed at his face with a wet cloth. “Thank you.”

  He only nodded and rose to his feet.

  Guards rushed in followed closely by the king.

  “Lorelai,” he barked. “Davion. I heard reports of a commotion.” His all-seeing eyes landed on the dead man.

  “Who did this?” he asked.

  Lorelai sent Davi a panicked look, but he faced his father. “I did.”

  Calis took in Davi’s dour expression, and the blood sprayed across him with calculating slowness. He nodded, a proud smile forming on his lips. “I take it you had a good reason?”

  “I did…”

  His father held up his hand. “I don’t need to hear the reason. I’m proud of you for taking care of matters.”

  Nothing about the man made sense. Davi had killed one of his father’s men, and all he got was a pat on the back.

  But when his father spoke again, Davi began to understand.

  “You may have more steel in you than I thought, son.”

  To Calis Bearne, slitting a man’s throat was a sign of strength. Davi tilted his lips up tentatively. He so desperately wanted to make his father proud. A new rush replaced the one from his actions before as he met his father’s eyes. His father. In each memory th
at Ramsey brought back to him, there was a longing for home, for family. He’d been alone for so much of his life in a land full of enemies. Taunted and beaten and kept in a cell.

  Now he had everything he’d dreamed of, and he was going to do everything he could to keep it.

  Because when his father’s pride was directed at him, he was more powerful than any magic could ever make him. He could do anything.

  And he would.

  Chapter 11

  Whitecap had changed from the last time they’d been there. Gone were the colorful sails of the trading vessels and the happy banter of the fishermen toiling along the pier. The docks were empty of life, the ships barren of their colors and bobbing in the icy breeze coming off the water. Not even the seagulls could be heard screeching in indignation as they fought over stolen morsels. A pall hung over the usually boisterous town. A veil of shadow, like it had endured way too much recent sorrow.

  Trystan glanced around in unease as they rode through the deserted, waterfront street, trying to pinpoint where his gut feeling of wrongness was coming from. Even the tavern where they had rested on their first trip here seemed to be closed for business though it was well into the afternoon. The door was barred tightly shut, and not a glimmer of light shone through the cracks in the shuttered windows. It appeared abandoned; as empty as the rest of the town.

  “Where is everyone?” Alixa asked at his back, speaking out loud the question in his mind.

  “Not here, obviously,” Briggs answered, as Rissa snorted in derision.

  “Good to see you didn’t lose your keen sense of observation while you were pretending illness.”

  Briggs turned in his saddle and glared Rissa’s way.

  “There was no pretending, girl. You and your brother dragging me all over the mountains and almost freezing me to death caused me to become severely ill.”

  “Maybe at first. But those last few days were just you refusing to get your cowardly butt out of bed. Don’t bother to lie because you know it’s true.”

  Briggs huffed in indignation and pointed a dirty nailed finger her way. “You know, you could be a little more respectful. I am a member of the all-powerful Tri-Gard. I could bring a horde of locusts down on your head if I so wished. And trust me, I’m getting close to doing just that.”