The stew bubbled, entrancing Alixa as she stared into the murky sea of mutton and carrots. Her mind blanked, giving her one blissful moment outside her own head—aware from the pain that’d become like a second skin.
The pop of the fire jerked her back to the task at hand and she stirred the dinner, thankful for the mindlessness of the motion.
Her heavy eyelids drooped but never closed. If she let them close, she’d see it all over again. Her father. Ella.
There’d been a time when she loved her father. When she wanted to make him proud. Children fail to see the greatest faults of their parents until the damage is already done, and it’s too late.
Edric sat nearby with his shoulders hunched forward. He’d barely looked at her since they left the high walls of Cullenspire behind two days prior. She didn’t fault him for blaming her. His sister was dead because she’d helped Alixa. Because Alixa dared to care about someone, anyone.
No, her father wouldn’t have that. People who cared were dangerous. They acted on emotion. He’d worked hard to drive the emotion from his children.
All he’d done was turn any love she had into pure, unadulterated rage. It didn’t matter who he was. Not anymore.
“I’m going to kill him.”
It wasn’t until she noticed the group around the fire go completely still she realized she’d said the words out loud.
She waited for them to speak. Trystan and Rissa at least never held back their many opinions. It was like some family trait—thinking people wanted to hear everything that was in their heads.
But neither said a word.
“I mean it,” she said. “He’s a dead man.”
Trystan grunted.
“Good,” Rissa finally said, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. “Just… good.”
Were these the same people she’d set out on this journey with? The ones with oh-so-noble sticks up their royal asses?
“Did you hear me?” she asked. “I said I’m going to murder my own father.”
“What do you want us to say, Alixa?” Trystan’s steely gaze met hers.
“You’re supposed to tell me I can’t spill the blood of my own family or some honorable bull like that.”
His jaw clenched. “I’m going to have to kill my own uncle.”
“Oh.” She leaned forward to stir the pot again, bathing her face in the warmth of the flames. It’d grown warmer since leaving Cullenspire, but a chill continued to linger in the air. “Stew’s ready.”
She filled the wooden bowls Lady Yaro had provided, and they dug into their food silently. Alixa had never enjoyed mutton, but she’d found she could eat anything after a long day of travel.
Nearby, a horse neighed from where they’d been tied for the night. It had taken a lot of effort to find some place dry to stop. The melting snow pooled along the ground, making for a miserably wet trip.
Once the stew was finished, Alixa put away the supplies and retired to her bedroll, a blanket pulled to her neck.
Stars winked between the overhanging trees, beckoning her with their brilliance. For the first time since their fight at Cullenspire, she found herself drifting off.
Ella appeared in her dreams, too good to be pulled into her father’s schemes. The night of the fight replayed in her mind. She’d thought Ella was dead already and hadn’t recovered from losing her the first time. As the knife slid across Ella’s throat, a scream ripped through the dream and Alixa was torn from the scene by two strong hands shaking her.
She thrashed against his pull and bit off another scream.
“Alixa.” The voice was familiar. “Wake up. It’s me. It’s Trystan.”
She opened her eyes in a daze, her breath coming in gasps. His face swam before her. Light hair. Strong jaw. Warm eyes. Trystan. It was Trystan. Her breath evened out. “Someone was screaming.”
“That was you.”
She looked down at his hands continuing to hold on to her and then back to his face. “You uh… you can let go of me now.”
It was as if a spell was broken and he was shocked to realize he was still touching her. He snapped his hands back to his sides and sat back on his heels. “Sorry.” He scratched the back of his neck and looked away.
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.