A War for Truth

by M. Lynn

  “Princess,” Fields choked. “You shouldn’t—”

  She held up the arrow. “See? Clean.”

  Fields turned abruptly, the look of disgust on his face unmistakable.

  Trystan walked forward and grabbed his sister’s elbow to pull her away. He leaned in and spoke lowly, “There are eyes on you right now. Stop this behavior.”

  She clenched her jaw stubbornly, but he didn’t miss her quivering hands. Like most things with his sister lately, this too was an act. He should have seen it sooner. Her shoulders dropped, and he pulled her into a hug, the arrow that killed their uncle wedged between them.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, pushing her hair back. “You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

  She buried her face in his chest and his shirt muffled her words. “But I did, brother.” She looked up at him. “I know you. You wouldn’t have been able to do it. You’d have kept him alive. We can’t afford mercy because we will be shown none. He wanted to kill us.”

  He breathed out slowly and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’m not going to stop being sorry.”

  “I took the oath too. And I meant it. I will be loyal to you until I die.”

  He flinched at those words, but she continued.

  “And my loyalty means I will even save you from yourself. He took your throne, Trystan. Father’s throne.”

  “I know he needed to die. I just wish I could protect you for a little longer.”

  She released him and stepped back. “You can’t. I am in this. I have been from the moment we set out. I am no less capable than you and I have just as much right to risk myself—whether it be physically or morally—as you do.”

  She was right as hard as that was to admit. Being king meant trusting others to get the job done. He wouldn’t always be there. Rissa wasn’t a child. He couldn’t keep the world from hurting her. A smile tilted his lips. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Just… I love you.”

  She grinned, and the sight was so rare and so foreign on the heels of a fight, he shook his head.

  “I love you too, big brother, but I’m not the only one.” She pointed behind them to where the guardsmen now stood at attention, waiting for their king’s orders.

  Once again, his sister was right. His people deserved his attention now. He turned to Avery and Brown. “Wake the palace. Gather everyone in the palace who hasn’t been arrested. Guards, servants, ordinary soldiers. I’ll meet them in the courtyard.”

  He walked from the throne room with Fields and another guard trailing him. When they’d rushed in to confront Drake, he hadn’t had a chance to really look at the halls of his childhood. They hadn’t changed. Stone archways stretched before him, interspersed with wooden doors that had been carved to depict scenes from Dreach-Sciene’s history. It finally hit him. After everything, he was back at the palace. His palace.

  He trailed his fingertips along the wall, wanting to hold on to every memory he had of the place. Racing through the halls with Rissa. Stealing food from the kitchens with Davi. Standing at his father’s side and feeling like the most important boy in the world.

  He could have waited for the sun to rise in a few hours before greeting his people, but they needed to know of his return. Once the guards had roused the sleeping members of the court from their beds, he entered the courtyard to find a crowd cheering. Many wept. Most faces were familiar. Those who’d cared for his family for years.

  His breath shuddered as he held up a hand. The roar continued.

  “Let the king speak,” someone yelled. Alixa. He shot her a smile. The people here didn’t react the same to her presence as they had in Whitecap. His family’s servants and guards trusted that if she was with him, there must be a good reason.

  “Quiet!” Brown’s voice boomed.

  The cheers died down and Trystan swallowed, suddenly nervous.

  “I’m sorry to wake you all from your dreams. As you can see,” he began. “My sister and I are not dead.”

  Laughter echoed off the stones.

  Rissa stepped up beside him and gripped his hand. He squeezed hers in thanks.

  “We’ve returned home to find an imposter on the throne. Drake Renauld is dead. Royce Eisner is dead.” He paused to let the words sink in. “But you all are not. You have remained loyal, joining me as soon as I arrived. For that, I have no words.”

  He paused, breathing deeply.

  “Drake and Royce are not the only ones who are gone.” He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he saw his own sadness reflected back from the people before him. “Let us take a moment to remember my father, the greatest king Dreach-Sciene has ever known.”

  Rissa’s hand was heavy in his as the next words left his mouth. “And Davion. You all knew him. You helped raise him into the man he became. The man who gave his life to save mine.”

  Alixa wiped at her eyes and she wasn’t alone. Rissa stood very still.

  “I wish I could tell you this was the end, but that would be a lie. The road ahead is very difficult. It will test us and bend us, but we will not break.”

  A few people cheered at that.

  “You all deserve to know where my sister and I have been these long months and why I cannot stay. Not yet.”

  A few disgruntled words reached him, but he didn’t stop. “Dreach-Sciene is dying.” He let that sink in. “You can all see it, I’m sure. My father set Rissa and I out on a task with a few others. We’ve been seeking the Tri-Gard. We’re reuniting them. Magic will once again run through Dreach-Sciene.”

  Disbelief rang out in the form of gasps and mumbled curses.

  “The Tri-Gard is gone,” someone yelled.

  “They betrayed us once,” another called. “They won’t help us.”

  As more and more people yelled their arguments, Lonara and Briggs pushed through the crowd to stand at Trystan’s side. Lonara held her crystal in one fist. A flash of light struck overhead and before he knew what was happening, Trystan rose in the air.

  He kicked his feet wildly as fear surged through him. “Lonara,” he yelled. “Put me down.”

  She flashed a wicked smile. “As you wish, your Majesty.”

  Trystan’s feet crashed into the ground and he stumbled forward. Rissa caught his arm and helped him stay upright.

  “They needed proof,” Lonara explained.

  “It’s Lonara Stone.” The chant wound through the group.

  Briggs yelled to be louder than them. “And Briggs Villard. I’ve returned too.” But they didn’t hear him as they surged toward Lonara.

  “Stop,” Trystan called, waving his arms over his head. They obeyed. He’d never get used to being king.

  When they quieted again, he spoke. “We have two members of the Tri-Gard but a third is being held in Dreach-Dhoun. We can’t waste any time. I must leave in two days once we’re re-provisioned. Lord Coille, the Duke of Aldorwood, is to be left in charge of Dreach-Sciene. His command is my command.” He met the duke’s eyes. “I trust him with your safety.”

  Lord Coille nodded and Trystan stepped back. Finished with his speech, he turned to walk back inside, but Coille called him back.

  “Your Majesty.” He gestured to someone behind him. “There is something we must do before you leave again. Everyone is already gathered.”

  A servant Trystan recognized as his father’s steward stepped forward and extended a crown to Lord Coille. A crown? Trystan shook his head. His father’s crown. No. He wasn’t ready.

  “Breathe, Trystan,” Alixa whispered. He hadn’t realized she was behind him and he immediately relaxed. She pulled him back around to face the crowd. They looked on with excitement.

  Coran, the steward, placed a velvet pillow on the ground and gestured to it. “Kneel, your Majesty.”

  Trystan’s knees bent of their own accord and his heart thundered in his ears. Lord Coille wore a proud smile. “I was at your father’s side when the crown became his in the middle of a battlefield and I am honored
to be here to see it fall to you. Under Dreach-Sciene law, the coronation is but a formality. You’ve been king since your father’s final breath. But it is so much more than that. As I place this crown on your head, we get to bear witness to the turning over of history. Your mother used to say that war has a memory. That the earth remembers every soldier who falls, and every one who remains victorious. It creates scars. Well, I like to think the earth remembers these moments as well. Moments that see us embrace the hope that has been so long forgotten. And in these memories, the earth heals.”

  Rissa gripped Trystan’s shoulder, lending him her strength. Lord Coille stepped forward and set the ruby encrusted crown atop his head. The weight of it was unlike anything he’d felt.

  “No longer Toha,” Coille said. “Now, you’re more. You are no longer only the one who fights for us, you’re the one we fight for. Rise, your Majesty.”

  Trystan stood and faced the crowd as a cheer wound from one end of the courtyard to the other.

  Coran turned to him. “Please, your Majesty, return to us.”

  “I will and I’ll bring our magic with me.”

  Well-wishers mobbed him. He hugged people he’d known all his life. Guards he’d grown up with and trained alongside. Servants who’d been like a part of his family.

  It reminded him what the sacrifices were for. For them. For Dreach-Sciene. His home. He would fight for them until he no longer could.

  A familiar calm settled over the palace the night after the king reclaimed his home. Trystan remembered it well. He’d loved to wander the halls that were busy during the day as they lay still, their inhabitants sleeping in their rooms.

  It had been a long day sorting through everything that had happened in Dreach-Sciene since he left. He hated the thought of abandoning them again.

  His jacket lay across his shoulders but the buttons sat unclasped. His sword still hung at his waist. He couldn’t bear the thought of not having it on him. Not yet. Not so soon after he’d had to fight in these very halls.

  He shook his head to rid himself of the dark thoughts. Would this place be forever tainted?

  He sighed and continued walking. As soon as he reached his destination, he had his answer. No. He wouldn’t let his uncle ruin this place.

  The bodies had been removed from the throne room. Drake would be given a royal burial in the forest where all those of royal birth were laid to rest and returned to the earth. He may not deserve it, but he was a Renauld.

  Royce Eisner would be sent to Isenore.

  The throne room looked as though the events of the day before hadn’t happened. As if blood hadn’t been spilled on the very stones leading up to his father’s seat. He guessed it was his seat now.

  His father’s presence was stronger in this room than any other.

  Stand up taller, Trystan.

  Look like a prince.

  He heard the words so clearly.

  You can’t let Davion continue leading you into trouble. That particular warning had been repeated many times over the years and always with affection. Marcus Renauld loved Davion as he did his own children. Trystan thought he’d even been secretly amused by Davi’s antics.

  The last one rang loudest through his mind.

  I’m proud of you, son.

  His father’s voice was not something he could ever forget. It had been stern, but never lacking for warmth.

  Trystan faced the throne. “I’m ready, Father.” He took the steps slowly and lowered himself onto the seat. He didn’t know if he’d been expecting some momentous awakening, the birth of a king, or what, but nothing happened.

  He didn’t feel any different.

  He drew his sword and examined the symbol on the hilt. He let the tip of the sword touch the ground and spun the hilt so the blade rotated quickly.

  “I thought I might find you here,” Alixa’s voice drifted toward him.

  He jerked his head up and stilled the blade.

  She sauntered forward. “I’ve got to say, you don’t look any different.” She pursed her lips. “No, the crown hasn’t improved your face. Still an oafish bore, I see.”

  He raised an eyebrow and rubbed the side of his face. “Still the impertinent lady I met at the ball.”

  She flashed him a grin. “Only with you.”

  A laugh burst past his lips.

  Her steps brought her close until she was standing in front of the throne looking up at him. She gestured to his sword. “Planning on fighting someone tonight?”

  He’d forgotten he still gripped the sword tightly. His fingers loosened. “I just—”

  “I know,” she cut in. “This place doesn’t seem as safe as it once did. I feel it too.”

  “I grew up thinking it was the best place to be in all of Dreach-Sciene. Nothing could touch us behind these walls. At the ball when you told me I knew nothing of my people’s suffering, you were right. Because their suffering didn’t extend to within this palace. We were happy. I was…” He lowered his head, resting his forehead on the hilt of his sword.

  “And now that’s been stolen, just like everything else,” she said. “I get it. I wish I grew up as you did. With family who protected me and guards who were more interested in training me than groping me. But Trystan, this palace has never been safe. Nowhere is. The change you feel, it isn’t real.”

  He raised his gaze to hers. “I thought I’d have a moment when I sat on this throne and knew how I would rule. How stupid is that? As if a chair could tell me how to be my father.”

  She ascended the steps and put two fingers underneath his chin to tilt his face up. He sucked in a breath as her lips touched his. Her hand wound around his neck and she deepened the kiss. Every time he doubted himself, she’d been there. His moment came. Clarity.

  “What was that for?” he asked against her lips.

  She straightened. “Do you have to ask that every time I kiss you?” Her hands flew to her hips. “It kind of ruins the moment when you’re always questioning my motives. Can’t I just want to kiss my king?”

  He laughed. “No. That’s not exactly how people show their loyalty.”

  “You’re infuriating, Trystan Renauld. What are you looking for here? Do you want me to tell you I haven’t been able to stop thinking about kissing you since Whitecap?”

  He relaxed back into the chair with a ridiculous grin on his face.

  “You’ve been wanting to kiss me again?”

  “Argh.” She spun once before facing him again. “I hate you.”

  “But you like my lips.”

  “As long as nothing is coming out of them.”

  He laughed and jumped from the chair to grab her around the waist. She yelped but didn’t stop him from pulling her against him and kissing her. His hands sank into her hair. She gripped his biceps as if she’d fall.

  He missed his father and Davi, but they weren’t there anymore. Alixa was. Rissa was. Sadness fell away from the room.

  Alixa pulled away first, her breath erratic and her cheeks flushed. She cupped his jaw. “You’re going to be a good king, Trystan Renauld.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Haven’t I told you before?” She tapped her thumb against his lips. “I know everything.”

  He laughed and buried his face in her neck. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For making sure I smiled again.”

  “That was all you. You’re not the stoic asshole you’d have people believe.”

  “I never wanted them to think I was an asshole.”

  She ducked out of his arms. “Could have fooled me.” Her laughter filled the room, and he thought of the last time they’d both been there. Alixa wasn’t who she’d wanted people to believe either.

  He pressed his hand against the arm of the throne. “I’m coming back,” he promised it, feeling like Briggs for talking to an inanimate object. “I promise, Father. Dreach-Dhoun will not be the end of me.”

  Alixa paused at the door and turned back. “
Who are you talking to?”

  Trystan’s gaze circled the room. “No one. He isn’t here anymore.”

  She seemed to understand. “Of course they’re not in this musty old room.” She reached for him as he neared and put her hand against his chest. “Because they’re in here.”

  As they walked back toward their rooms, Edric rushed to follow. He bowed. “Your Majesty.”

  Trystan smiled and motioned for him to rise. “Can this wait until the morning? I’m exhausted and we leave soon.”

  “I’m sorry, sire, but it cannot.”

  “Go on.”

  “I won’t be coming to Dreach-Dhoun.”

  “What?” Alixa asked harshly. “Edric—”

  Trystan cut her off. “Explain.”

  Edric looked from Alixa to Trystan. “I’ve had my revenge for Ella’s death and it didn’t matter. It didn’t mean anything.”

  Alixa opened her mouth to protest but Trystan squeezed her arm.

  Edric went on. “I want to help in this fight. You’re going into Dreach-Dhoun, but you don’t need me. It’ll be better for you to have a smaller traveling party. Lord Coille has offered me a position in his guard. I can make a real difference here. He wants me to help train the flood of new soldiers we’ll be getting.” He lowered his head. “I’m sorry if you think me a coward.”

  Trystan put a hand on his shoulder. “You aren’t a coward, Edric. Your task here will be just as valuable as ours. Stay. Train the soldiers to become warriors as great as you.”

  “Thank you, sire.”

  Trystan patted Edric’s back as he walked by him. Alixa hung back to talk with her friend. It was one less person he’d be leading into Calis Bearne’s hands.

  He wished he didn’t have to take any of them, but as his sister had told him so many times, that was not his choice to make. With one more glance back at Alixa, he vowed to do whatever he had to do to ensure they all made it out of this intact.

  Chapter 17

  Lorelai scrubbed the feel of Thom from her skin as she sank lower in the water and leaned her head back against the metal rim of her soaking tub. It’d been days since Thom’s body lay in front of her fire and she could still feel his touch.