by M. Lynn
Rissa narrowed her eyes in retaliation. “Your threats don’t scare me, old man. You and your precious Tri-Gard have already done the worst thing possible. You stole Dreach-Sciene’s magic. The possibility of you bringing it back is the only thing keeping you alive right now. You’d be wise to remember that.”
Briggs whipped his head over his shoulder, his glazed eyes focusing on something none of his companions could see. “Yes, I know her sharp tongue is just like her mother’s. Yes, I know she’s the princess…. But her insolence is becoming old and… Fine. I’ll let it drop.”
And just like that, Briggs hunched over his horse’s neck, refusing to speak another word. A tiny smile tugged at Trystan’s lips when Rissa grumbled, “Crazy old hermit.” He raised his eyes, meeting Alixa’s, and they shared a moment of amusement before her smile disappeared and she dropped her gaze. His smile vanished too, for he knew what she was remembering. That kiss.
Dammit. Why had he done something so stupid? He and Alixa were finally getting along. She was finally treating him as a friend instead of a silly, pampered prince. And then he had to ruin that. Alixa did the right thing by stopping it, but that didn’t stop the sting of humiliation.
“No matter,” he called over his shoulder, shrugging off his embarrassment. “Maybe it’s a good thing no one is around. The fewer that know of our presence here, the better.”
“Sire,” Avery interrupted and lifted her chin as Trystan looked her way. He followed her gaze. Hmmm, the town was not as empty as they first believed. A boy of about ten peered out at them from a vacant husk of a building, his look of curiosity mounting to fear at knowing he’d been seen. He turned to run but Trystan yelled at his back, “Hey, boy. Come here. There’s a gold coin in it for you if you answer my questions.”
The boy stumbled in his tracks and swerved back as quick as he’d run. He came closer but still kept a wary distance between him and the party on horseback.
“You lyin’?” the boy asked as he turned skeptical eyes on Trystan. “Cause you don’t look like no wealthy man. No sir-ee. You all look like a bunch of poor travelers.” He eyed them all up and down before standing straighter as he decided on his course of action. “Give me the gold coin first and I’ll tell ya everythin’ you want to know.”
“Fat chance of that happening, you little runt,” Briggs snorted his way. “You’d take it and run first chance you got. Do we look that stupid?”
“You do,” the boy replied in all seriousness, and it took all of Trystan’s will not to crack up at Briggs’ look of offense.
Trystan pulled the gold coin from his pocket and rolled it smoothly across the back of his fingers, pretending to toss it to the boy. The boy grabbed at the empty air and scowled as he realized Trystan was toying with him.
“Answers first,” Trystan said as he palmed the coin.
“Fine,” the boy huffed. “What do ya wanna know?”
“Has there been any army activity in town? Have you seen Isenore soldiers or even unknown soldiers coming and going? Have they taken everyone away?”
“No, there ain’t been no soldiers ‘round. None other than Lord Coille’s men that I’ve seen.”
Not the answer Trystan was expecting.
“Then where is everyone?” he asked in puzzlement.
“At the ceremony. Where you should all be instead of here askin’ me silly questions.” The boy cocked his head to the side and stared at Trystan like he should already know this.
“What ceremony?”
The boy rolled his eyes. “The ceremony they’s havin’ for the dead royal family. Don’t you people know nothin’? You just crawl out from under a rock? They’s all dead. The king, the prince and the princess. All of ‘em gone. Lord Coille is havin’ a memorial for ‘em all today outside his estate. The whole town is supposed to be there outta respect.”
Trystan stared at Rissa in shock, her eyes just as wide as him. Everyone thought they were dead?
“Why are you here in town then,” Rissa averted her gaze to the boy. “Why aren’t you at the ceremony? You up to no good?”
“What?” The boy turned to Rissa, guilt written all over his face. “No… I ain’t up to nothin’. And don’t turn this ‘round on me. I answered yer questions, now give me my coin.”
Trystan threw the coin, and the boy snatched it out of the air, turned tail and ran as fast as his scrawny legs could carry him.
“They think you’re both dead,” Alixa reiterated the boy’s words as soon as he vanished amongst the alleyways. “Why would they think that unless they’ve been told some story?”
Trystan nodded in agreement and spoke softly, keeping the unease in his gut hidden from everyone. “Dear old uncle Drake was no doubt planning on making the story come true.”
Briggs took no effort in hiding his fear. “You thought we would have all died if we went back to the castle? When were you going to tell us that?”
Another snort escaped Rissa’s lips. It seemed to be her favorite form of communication nowadays.
“What did you expect, old man? That he was going to steal Trystan’s title and then welcome us home with open arms? Yes, he would have killed us all, except you of course. I’m sure he would have made a good trade with Calis for you.”
Briggs visibly paled at her words. “That doesn’t make me feel any better, girl,” he whispered, and she stared back with her cold, empty eyes.
“It wasn’t meant to.”
“Enough,” Trystan interrupted before the exchange could snowball. “Whatever the reason behind the lie, we are still thankfully very much alive, and I’d like to make it to Coille’s estate in one piece. No more talk. Like our governess used to say, Rissa, the walls have ears. Move out. And I advise you all to pray on the way that we still have allies willing to help us take back the throne.”
Lady luck decided to be on their side for a change. Although they encountered numerous villagers making their way back to town, no one paid them any attention. The townsfolk appeared too engulfed in their grief and conversation to even notice the pack of dirty travelers. But then their luck ended. The moment they approached the stone gates they were swarmed by soldiers and ordered to dismount at sword point. Alixa knew Rissa was about to lose her temper from the way she slid from her horse, threw her hood back and glared at the soldiers, but Alixa grabbed the princess’s arm and shook her head in warning. And then a small miracle happened. Rissa actually clamped her lips shut in a tight grimace. Alixa blinked in surprise as the princess pulled back, allowing Trystan to do the talking.
“Let us through,” Trystan commanded as he stepped directly in front of the guard that had ordered them to dismount. “We must speak with Lord Coille.”
A couple of the guards straightened in surprise at his authoritative tone, but the one in front of Trystan sneered in suspicion.
“Oh really? Then you’re out of luck. Lord Coille isn’t seeing anyone right now. You had your chance to speak at the memorial.”
“He will see us,” Trystan added as he crossed his arms and stared the guard down.
“Oh aye? You think so now, do you? Move along. My orders are not to let anyone through. There’s been some less than savory characters spotted around here lately. Dreach-Dhoun spies some are saying. No one is allowed inside without an invitation from Lord Coille.”
Trystan’s stance never changed. He never even reached for his weapon, but his gaze pinned the guard with threatening steel. “Go get Lord Coille, now.”
No threat was uttered but Alixa could feel the quiet menace radiating off Trystan and the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She stared at him through new eyes. Where had this Trystan come from? Where was the pretty boy, slightly soft prince she’d met at the Toha ball? That was not the same man who stood before her now. This Trystan was determined. Driven. Gone were the clean shaven, slightly rounded cheeks of the man she’d first met. Weeks of adversity and loss showed in his hard eyes and chiseled, set jaw. The bristly stubble and unkempt hair gi
ving him more of a mountain man look than a royal prince. He seemed forceful and in command. He seemed like a king. The guard must have felt it too since he backed away a couple of steps and called over his shoulder to a comrade still inside the wall.
“Go get Rion. Tell him to come to the gate.”
At the name Trystan jerked his head and met Alixa’s eyes. Rion? The young soldier who’d been traveling with Trystan and Avery when she first met them in the forest of Alderwood? The one Trystan tried to get her to return to the castle with?
They waited in silence, the guards eyeing them up and down in suspicion until the soldier returned with another body in tow. The newcomer’s slight frame was dressed in new Alderwood colors, but Alixa recognized the boyish face beneath the shaved head.
“Rion?” Trystan called out in part doubt, part relief. The young man brought up short and his look of puzzlement quickly escalated to wide-eyed amazement as if he’d just seen a ghost. Much to his credit, however, he didn’t utter a single name. Instead he turned his attention to the guard barring them entrance.
“Let them through,” he demanded, and the guards obeyed without hesitation. The gate groaned in protest as it was pulled open, allowing the weary travelers access. Rion approached them as they made their way inside. He came to a stop in front of Trystan, his head bowed.
“Your Maj…” he began, but Trystan cut him short.
“No, not here.” The young man looked up in confusion at the quiet words. “Seems everyone believes us dead? Let’s keep it that way for now.”
A slight smile crossed his weary face. “It’s good to see you. All of you.”
“You as well, Rion,” Trystan replied as he grasped the boy’s shoulder. “Can you confirm the rumor we’ve heard that Lord Drake has taken the throne back in Dreach-Sciene?”
The young man nodded. “It is so. Drake has pronounced the royal family as dead and taken the title for himself.” There was no denying the disgust in the boy’s words and Alixa could see Trystan’s lips tilt in a tiny smile.
“Drake? Not King Drake?”
“Even believing you all to be dead, he was never my king. There are many still loyal to King Marcus and they won’t accept Drake as king even when they think the rest of the royal family is dead. Most of them are here, including Lord Coille.”
“Good. Then let us go inside. There is much to discuss.”
With Rion leading the way they received no more resistance from any guard. The boy had risen quickly in the ranks from the young soldier Alixa had first met. Her eyes fell on Trystan. Then again, a lot of changes had occurred in the past few months.
“Is the council meeting already underway?” Rion marched straight to a soldier standing at the bottom of a stairwell situated in the middle of the large room they now found themselves in. The room had been grand and elegant at one time, no doubt. Back when there was magic. Alixa saw the wear and tear of the sparse times in which they now lived reflected in the threadbare rug beneath their feet and the splintered, warped stairs that badly needed replacing. Lord Coille didn’t seem to be as tenacious in keeping up appearances, unlike her father.
The older man nodded as he squinted at her and the rest through red-rimmed eyes.
“Yes. The nobles in attendance stayed behind after the ceremony. It’s being held in the chapel.” The soldier huffed as he placed his sword across the stairwell, stopping Rion’s progress as the boy tried to continue on. “But, you know the rules. When council’s meeting, there are to be no interruptions, even if that meeting is not taking place in the council chambers.”
Rion stepped back. “I know the rules. But Lord Coille will want to see these people as soon as possible.”
The red eyes stared closer. “Hmph. Lord Coille don’t have no need for this bunch of dirty, smelly heathens.”
Dirty, smelly heathens? Was there really any need for that? Alixa looked down at her stained, tattered britches and cloak. Well maybe he wasn’t far off the mark.
Rion squared his shoulders. “That is for Lord Coille to decide, not you. Now out of the way, Sharpe.”
Sharpe’s response was drowned out as a squeal of disbelief pierced the air, causing Alixa to wince in pain. A tiny blonde girl appeared at the top of the stairs, her porcelain pale skin enhanced by the wide blue eyes staring down at them. She blinked in rapid succession as her hand flew to her mouth, to stop any more ear rupturing screams Alixa hoped. The girl’s perfectly curled hair and clean gown only made Alixa feel that much more the dirty heathen Sharpe spoke of. The girl appeared familiar, but Alixa couldn’t place her at first.
“It cannot be. My eyes must be deceiving me.” She descended halfway down the stairs before stopping to stare. “Trystan? Rissa? Is it really you?”
Alixa’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as the first genuine smile Rissa had given in weeks, spread across her face.
“Willow!” Rissa yelled as the girl nearly bowled Sharpe over and ran down the stairs into Rissa’s open arms. The two girls embraced like long-lost sisters, and recognition finally set in. Willow. Of course. Lord Coille’s daughter. The memory of meeting the girl at the Toha ball was faint, but there.
Willow finally stepped back and held Rissa at arm’s length as tears streamed freely down her face.
“I knew you weren’t dead. Even as I sat through the funeral ceremonies, I just knew it.”
She glanced over at Trystan and her tears flowed harder as he opened his arms and she fell into them like it was where she belonged.
Alixa resisted the urge to roll her eyes in irritation at the girl’s loud sniveling as she hung off Trystan’s neck like a wet rag. Instead, the recollection of the Toha ball came back with a vengeance, and Alixa drew a sharp breath. She remembered now. The girl had stared after Trystan all night with those enamored, beautiful eyes. Following his every move, her emotions on her face for all to see. She was in love with the prince. Any fool could see it. What had Davion called her? Trystan’s possible future queen. It made sense. Merging the two fine houses of the Renaulds and the Coilles was a smart move. The only move. So why did it leave such a bitter taste in her mouth?
Trystan gently removed the girl’s arms from around his neck. “It is good to see you, Willow. But we must speak with your father immediately.”
“Of course.” The girl wiped the tears from her eyes with a tiny laugh and a fleeting moment of hatred filled Alixa’s heart at the girl’s still impeccable features. She even cried pretty.
“He’s still in the chapel. I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m so happy to see you. All of you. But… where is Davi?”
Alixa heard Avery’s sharp intake of breath as her gaze switched to Rissa. The smile that had softened the princess’ face faded at the mention of Davi’s name. It was like watching summer turn to winter. The green eyes crystallized with ice and her face fixed into a hard mask, her mouth a grim line. The silence following the question seemed to last forever, before Rissa finally growled, “Davion is dead. Do not mention his name to me again.”
“No! But how? What happened?”
“Willow, your father,” Trystan stopped the words flowing from the girl’s mouth and Alixa knew it was just in time too. Rissa’s features grew frostier by the moment.
“Yes, of course.” Willow was visibly shaken, but she pulled herself together and straightened her slim shoulders. She clamped her lips shut and stopped her silly flow of words. An admirable trait of a future queen, Alixa noted with annoyance. Something she herself hadn’t learned to do yet.
“You’re right, Trystan. We will have time to talk later. You need to join the council. Follow me.”
Willow led them down the hallway. The lone guard standing outside raised a brow as she commanded him to move aside, but he didn’t budge an inch.
Willow tried again. “I said move aside. Allow us entrance.”
“Sorry, my lady. You know better than that. Your father said they were not to be interrupted for any reason.”
Alixa had had enough. This silly
pomp and display of importance was carrying on much too long. They needed to see Lord Coille and if Willow’s whispery words weren’t enough, then she would make it so. Enough of being denied. Much to the guard’s surprise, Alixa pushed Willow aside none-too gently and threw open the heavy doors before he could stop her. Numerous pairs of eyes stared in surprise as she practically pushed Trystan into the room and presented their dead prince, alive, if not quite whole.
Chapter 12
An audible gasp came from somewhere in the room, the only sound in the tense moment. Trystan stood in the doorway; his hand gripped the wooden beam.
Most of the faces in the room were unknown to him, but the familiar gazes of two stole the words from his mouth. Lady Destan, the young Duchess of Sona, covered her mouth with her hand. Beside her, Lord Coille’s wide eyes shone.
No one spoke.
They didn’t move.
Trystan opened his mouth, but a breath was the only thing to escape.
Willow entered the room behind him and put a hand on his arm. She’d recovered from her shock quickly.
“Lords and Ladies of Dreach-Sciene.” Her voice was high and clear. “May I present Prince Trystan Renauld.”
“The prince is dead,” someone said.
Rissa pushed him aside and came into view for the first time. A sob escaped Lady Destan.
“Like hell he is,” Rissa snapped, making for the front of the room where an altar sat bathed in candlelight. She stopped at the raised platform. “Does he look dead to you?” She turned her glare to all in attendance. “Your rightful king has just entered the room. Rise,” she demanded.
“Rissa,” Trystan chastised with a shake of his head. He’d risen from the dead. His people would need time.
Lord Coille rose first. His voice shook as he spoke. “Welcome home, your… Majesty.”
