Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“Trouble? You no longer call it adventure?”
“I always thought I could do the right thing. Make the right choices.” I shake my head. “It got too hard. My trouble got you hurt. I hurt you. I am sorry.”
She shuts her eyes, her throat working with a swallow. When she doesn’t respond, my shoulders sag and I bow again. To Florentius, I speak, my voice pinched. “Florentius—”
He holds up a hand, halting me, and then a soft glow of magic stretches over me. My voice—my real voice—returns. “I need to hear you say it,” he says.
I look at him, and he looks right back into me. His pain is visceral, I feel it in the growing lump in my throat and the sting at my eye.
“I’m sorry.”
The words are simply too small. But I don’t think there will ever be words big enough to properly express . . .
He breathes in deeply and out again. “I’m blaming you more than I should.”
“I deserve that blame.”
“Then, equally, you deserve my most sincere gratitude.” His eyes grow shiny and he looks away from me to Akilah. “Only a man with love in his heart would face an army so his friends could escape.”
“An act I borrowed from someone better.”
Florentius nods and nods, his lips wobbling with Lucius’s name. Akilah throws her arms around him and holds tight.
He looks at me over her shoulder, and in his eyes, I see forgiveness. I see hope for our friendship. I bow low again and give them space. I’m a dozen feet from their tent when I’m grabbed by the arm and yanked into a hug. Akilah’s grip on me is unfathomably strong. Her face burrows against my shoulder and I feel the splash of a tear roll down my neck.
I wrap my arms around her and squeeze back fiercely.
Later, I return to my tent, wash up and change my clothes, then take a turn around the darkening camp. There’s the swell of celebration and relief in the air, and I feel echoes of it too. Akilah will head back to the capital with Florentius, she said. They want their home back. They’ll stand alongside the true king to make it happen.
Soldiers wave me to join them but I decline, smiling, and continue walking.
A week behind me. I’ll take what’s mine.
Will he succeed?
A distant moving shadow has me narrowing my eyes through the dark. I recognise the figure, the long stride. He’s moving towards the hill, and his gait is tense.
My stomach crunches.
I trip over my feet as I chase him and scramble upright, until I’m halfway up the hill and see them, short bursts of magic sparking from them as they trade fierce blows.
I freeze, pulse pounding shrilly in my ears.
My mind spirals in indecision. Leaking his magic might give them away, a reveal Quin wanted only once safely in front of King Yngvarr. Not here amongst an army of Lumin-hating stormblades. But stepping between them, speaking . . . this may blaze out of control.
A group of singing men halt suddenly beside me, staring at the crown of the hill. Suddenly, they’re calling for their comrades, and a hissing crowd begins to gather. Some storm up the hill and I race to cut them off.
“Are you also one of them?” they hurl.
“One of them? One of the people who fought by your side?”
They scowl and try to pass.
“Attacking a fellow soldier without permission of a superior will have you whipped fifty times!”
They halt.
Others declare they’ll get permission.
When Kjartan charges onto the scene, I meet him with urgency. “Please calm your men.”
Commander Kjartan spies the truth revealing itself atop the hill and his eyes narrow. “They’re Lumins?” He grabs his weapon and I step closer, shaking my head vehemently.
“Do you really think your king doesn’t suspect? He needs Lumins to keep Wyrds out of Iskaldir. He played along with the jarl act to keep his inner peace—and perhaps the peace between our soldiers.” I eye his hand, tight on his hilt, while clashing light bursts behind me. Big enough now for all the camp to see. “Your prins also knows. Knows and understands the importance. Keep your men at bay.”
“You might be lying to me.”
“Let your men attack, and all those Lumin soldiers will fight back. You’ve won a war. You want a skirmish now?”
He throws his sword back into its sheath. “Stop this. I’ll take the jarl leader back to our king.”
“Thank you.”
Commander Kjartan calls for his men to back down, and reluctantly, they listen.
I do what I promised. Spells flare as they hurl them at one another, and shields pound with light absorbing each attack. As the distance between us falls away, I hear their voices.
“You should’ve come.”
“I did.”
“Sooner.”
Quin attacks this time, and Nicostratus blocks, a clash of magic that fountains like spurting blood. We’ve seen enough blood already. I don’t want to see more, and I certainly don’t want any spilled between brothers.