She hadn’t expected him to continue running with her after his week was up, but on the morning of the eighth day, he’d shown up again. And then the next. And now it had been almost two weeks, and he still met her every morning, just as dawn broke, to dash through the trees and paths of éadrolan, letting the cool morning air fill their lungs and their feet fly over the earth. She hardly dared let herself think of Ceren’s claim—that it was because he truly cared about her. Her, not just her crown.
“Yes, it’s certain. It was … a bloodbath. She was on the right flank and that entire division was hewn down so viciously, it was impossible to identify many of the bodies.” Tanvir gripped his knees so hard, his knuckles were white. “She never showed up after we retreated. And the Dark Draíolon don’t take prisoners.”
The bright sunshine breaking through the treetops above them seemed at odds with the horrors of Tanvir’s memories. She didn’t say anything, because I’m sorry wasn’t enough. Instead, with Ceren’s words ringing in her mind, Evelayn hesitantly reached out, her pulse a flutter against the thin skin of her throat, letting her hand hover for just a moment before placing it over his. Aunt Rylese would be shocked at her daring, but Aunt Rylese wasn’t here, and she didn’t know what else to do. She’d never known the love of a sibling, but she understood the devastation that etched deep lines in Tanvir’s face as he spoke of the day his sister died—only a few months before his father also passed away and he was suddenly called back from the warfront to become High Lord of the Delsachts.
He turned his hand over and laced their fingers together.
She wanted to reassure him that her mother would triumph, that soon the war would end, but she knew he’d see through the lie, as he saw through nearly everything she said or did. Even if Ilaria somehow managed to defeat Bain, what would happen next? He couldn’t be trusted to continue to lead the Dorjhalon kingdom; he would have to be executed so that the power could transfer to one of his sons. But would either of them rule in peace—or had they been poisoned by their father’s greed and shortsightedness?
“How old were you when your father died?”
Evelayn kept her eyes on their intertwined fingers. “I was eight.”
“Your mother had only been queen for a few years, hadn’t she?”
She nodded. “My grandmother Odessa ruled for over three hundred years and finally passed away when I was five. I don’t remember her very well, but they say I am a lot like her—strong-willed and outspoken. She was a force to be reckoned with, at least according to my instructors.”
“I’ve heard the stories. But I’m not sure that you are like her, at least not that much.”
“Well, I’m certainly not as soft-spoken as my mother.”
Tanvir shrugged. “You’ve got me there.”
Evelayn raised her eyebrows.
“I’m just agreeing with you.” He lifted his free hand up in supplication. “So,” he continued quickly, “your mother had only been queen for a few years when Bain attacked for the first time.”
“Yes. No one truly believed that Bain was behind the attack though. It seemed beyond comprehension that a king would risk destroying the balance of our two kingdoms.”
“I remember my father talking about the same thing with his men. I was only fourteen so he wouldn’t allow me in the meetings, but I would sit outside the door and eavesdrop. He said it was history repeating itself, because no one believed in the legend of Drystan anymore.”
Drystan.
The name was a two-sided jolt. Her father’s name and the name from the rhyme younglings were told at bedtime to frighten them into behaving.
The original Drystan had supposedly been the first to shed blood on the soil of Lachalonia—cursing the Draíolon to lose their immortality—and had then been banished with his followers. Supposedly, he’d only been sixteen, and that was why the Draíolon, both Light and Dark, had sworn an oath to bind their youngling’s power until they were eighteen ever since, to keep them from making such huge mistakes while they were still too immature to handle their abilities. Her father hadn’t believed it—claiming that it was just a story to keep them in line. And possibly because he shared the same name.
But her mother believed. Evelayn had always wondered which one was right. Peace had existed for so long, it seemed unimaginable that anyone would ever kill another Draíolon. Until the day of the initial attack.
“I remember feeling frightened for the first time in my life after word reached the castle, and I remember my parents telling me there was nothing to worry about. They tucked me into bed and promised they’d be back in a few days.” Evelayn paused, the memory of pain rising up, still sharp when summoned. “My mother came back alive. My father didn’t.”
Tanvir’s hand tightened on hers.
They sat in silence for a long moment, until the caw of a raven in a nearby tree shattered the quiet.
“We should head back,” Tanvir suddenly said, letting go of her hand and standing up. “We’ll be late for breakfast and training, and then you’ll be forced to run with the sentries again.”
Evelayn glanced up and saw that the sun had risen much higher than she’d realized, protected as they were in the shade of the trees. Tanvir had already begun to run away, and she hurried to catch up. She was still faster than he was if she pushed herself, but not by much anymore. The forest blurred around them as they sped back to the castle.
They were almost halfway there when Tanvir suddenly stopped, throwing out his arm so that Evelayn crashed into it and skidded to a halt as well. And then she noticed it, too—the brisk scent of snow, of winter, even though the early-summer morning had already grown hot.
A Dark Draíolon was nearby.
Evelayn’s body went cold. How was that even possible? Half the priestesses were at the warfront on the border of the two kingdoms, maintaining the wards that kept the Dark Draíolon from being able to enter éadrolan.
“He’s to our left, upwind. He might not know we’re here yet, since he’s positioned badly,” Tanvir murmured so quietly she could hear him only because they were standing so close together. “If we veer right and then cut back, we could avoid him and warn General Kelwyn.”
“If he doesn’t know we’re here, we should circle around and see if we can follow him. Find out how he made it in to éadrolan,” Evelayn argued in a whisper.
“My first duty is to keep you safe. We’re going back to the castle.” Tanvir’s voice had gone cold, as firm as steel.
“I’m the crown princess, and I order you—”
Before she could finish, Tanvir suddenly tackled her. They crashed into the ground, his full weight on top of her. Pain exploded across the back of her head and her elbows where she landed hard against the rocks and dirt. A blast of shadowflame detonated against the tree right next to them, tearing a massive, smoking hole through the trunk.
“It’s an ambush.” Tanvir’s lips brushed her ear as he continued to press her into the ground, using his body to shield her. His words sent a fission of terror down Evelayn’s spine. “Get behind me, and when I say so, you run like hellfire back to the castle.”