Closing his eyes, Nick saw one of those life rafts that stayed with Kyrian to this day …
Exhausted from the grueling march to the town and sickened from the sight of the slaughter that had greeted them, and from the fighting earlier that day, Kyrian had removed his armor to help build funeral pyres and move the slaughtered bodies to them.
Against orders, training, and protocol, he’d left his sword and shield on his horse. Honestly, he was too disgusted by war at this point to look at them. The last thing he’d wanted was the weight of what he’d done on his chest, and the reminder of the lives he’d taken earlier to save his own while he laid these innocent civilians to rest.
And as each hour passed and he carried another child or its mother in his arms, it was taking everything he had not to run to his horse and ride home to his father and admit that his father had been right.
He wasn’t a soldier. War was horrible and awful, and all the things his father had warned him of. Kyrian wanted nothing to do with a soldier’s life, after all. He wanted nothing more to do with the slaughter and brutality. All he craved now was his old bed and the comforts of home.
Only his wounded pride kept him from running. That and the fact that his father would never let him live it down. Never see him as anything more than a petulant, spoiled boy who had failed to stand by his hotheaded decision that he’d made because he’d thought only of the fame it would bring him.
How could you ever stand and lead a kingdom if you aren’t man enough to see your decisions through? Good or bad, once you decide, the consequences will always be yours, alone, to live with. So think through all outcomes, son. And make sure you understand the course it will force you to walk, and that you’re willing to make that journey and see it through to the end. Good, and especially bad.
And so Kyrian forced himself to swallow his gall and bile, and continued to prepare the dead even though he feared he’d never sleep or eat again.
“Boy!”
Kyrian had frozen in place as he reached for the body of a young girl.
Dimitri, their burly second-in-command had stormed toward him. “Where’s your armor? Your sword?”
Straightening, Kyrian had tried to think of a reasonable explanation that wouldn’t result in a whipping for violating their orders. Unfortunately, there wasn’t one.
“Did you not hear me?”
Swallowing hard, he gestured toward their pitched tents. “It’s with my horse, sir. On the edge of camp.”
Furious, Dimitri grabbed Kyrian’s crimson exomis in a tight fist and snatched him forward. “We’re at war, boy! You do not abandon your equipment to a place where you cannot reach it should we come under attack, or where thieves or enemies could steal it. Is that your desire? To arm your enemies so that they can cut your throat with your own arms? I’ll have you whipped for this! Maybe next time you’ll remember.”
As Dimitri dragged him toward the tents, a deep resonant commanding voice rang out. “Halt!”
Kyrian almost wet himself as he recognized Julian of Macedon’s restrained fury. As their commander and the famed son of a goddess and legendary Spartan hero, he was the warrior no one wanted to cross or anger. Even though Kyrian’s father had placed him under Julian’s direct protection, Kyrian had done his best to stay out of his sight, and away from his notice as Julian was the one person in this army who could kill him with impunity.
For that matter, his comrades would probably applaud Julian for his murder since they couldn’t stand Kyrian anyway.
But he refused to let Julian know he was intimidated as he closed the distance between them.
Forcing himself to lift his chin, he met his commander’s gaze without flinching. After all, he was a prince of Thrace. Whatever punishment he had coming, he’d take it with every fiber of regal bearing he possessed.
Julian didn’t even glance in his direction as he came to rest a few feet away. His ire was for Dimitri. “Release him. There’s been enough blood spilled today. Let the boy alone.”
“Seriously, Commander? Prince or not, he needs to learn his place.”
Julian’s expression turned to stone. “Are you questioning my orders, soldier?”
That sent Dimitri scurrying away in terror, out of Julian’s line of sight, and more importantly, his reach.
His throat tight, Kyrian bravely met Julian’s gaze. “Thank you for your mercy, Commander. I won’t leave my armor off again, I promise.”
Julian had inclined his head to him. “If it makes you feel better, Highness, I threw up in battle my first time, too. I even pissed myself, and I was Spartan born and trained. Don’t let the others get to you. You showed a lot of courage on the field today, and stood your ground at times when I’ve seen far more experienced soldiers fall or worse, turn and flee.”