Chapter 55 Trew
TREW
Ikept my distance, giving Isi a chance to visit with the children. She stayed on her knees, clutching Leo. He was the living, breathing proof of every lie she’d been fed, plus the beautiful, brutal truth of what we were fighting for.
Tearing my gaze away, I turned to the woman beside me. Respect for Fern ran deep in Syllavar; she’d been a friend to my mother, a counselor to my father, and now she was the heart of this sanctuary.
“He’s well cared for, Trewyn,” Fern said, her eyes still on Isi and the boy. “They all are.”
“I never doubted it.” My focus shifted from the tender scene on the grass to my duty. I was their king. Their protector. “What do you need?”
Fern’s gaze met mine. “More bedding, blankets in particular. And the children will need winter clothes. They’re growing so fast.”
“Done. I’ll send seamstresses from the castle along with bolts of fabric and furs.”
My jaw clenched. I wouldn’t let Caldrith Court’s poison touch these children ever again. They were mine now.
Ours.
“And books,” I said, my gaze drifting back to Isi, who was now wiping the tears from Leo’s face, kissing the top of his head. She sat on the ground, and the boy settled on her lap with her arms snug around him. “Toys.”
“Food, too,” Fern said, pulling my attention back to her. “We’re going through the stores faster than I anticipated. The last harvest was good, but with more mouths…”
“I’ll have a convoy of supplies sent from the castle tomorrow and ensure your regular delivery dates are tightened.
” The logistics were already forming in my mind.
“Grains, smoked meats, root vegetables. And more honey. The children deserve some sweetness.” My gaze returned to Isi, who had gathered other children around her. “Whatever you need, Fern. You have it.”
“You’re a good king, Trewyn. Just like your father.”
I nodded, unable to speak around the lump in my throat as I watched Isi settle Leo more comfortably in her lap.
Her tears had dried, leaving a flush on her cheeks, but the soul-deep awe remained in her eyes.
It was the look of someone whose world had been fractured and rebuilt into something stronger, truer. A look I knew well.
She began to speak, her voice soft but clear, carrying on the breeze, telling a story of a mischievous star that fell from the sky and had to learn how to shine on the ground.
Other children joined them, leaning in, their faces eager, their own little sparks of magic forgotten as they were captured by hers.
She was surrounded by children like some kind of fairy tale come to life, and I could barely breathe for wanting her. Not only her body, though the fates knew I wanted that too, but this woman who loved so fiercely she’d break herself to protect these little ones.
Something primal and possessive roared to life in my chest. I wanted to give her a dozen children to love. I wanted to watch her tell bedtime stories inside our castle, to our heirs, for the rest of our lives.
You’re staring, I told myself, but I couldn’t look away.
This was my future. Not the crown or the throne or the battles, but this woman surrounded by children she’d die to protect.
“A king should not look at a woman with that much hunger unless he plans to make her his queen.” Amusement colored Fern’s voice.
I’d forgotten she was there. I couldn’t tear my eyes from Isi. “And what if he does?”
An all-knowing smile bloomed on Fern’s face. “Then he should be prepared to fight this world and the next to keep her. Goodness like that draws light, but it also calls to shadows.”
The truth of her words coiled in my gut. Every moment of joy with Isi came edged with the sharp, cold fear of losing her.
“This one’s different,” Fern said. “She sees you, not just the crown or the legend. That’s rarer than dragon’s gold, Trewyn.”
“It is,” I rasped.
“She’s the kind who changes a man for the better.” She patted my arm. “Don’t let her go, Your Majesty.”
“I won’t.” My words came out fierce, desperate. “I can’t.”
“Then stop looking at her like you’re afraid she’ll disappear and start looking at her like she’s already yours.”
If only it was that simple. “What if the pull of her old life comes between us?”
“Then you fight for her,” Fern said. “Do not surrender your kingdom without a war.”
As the sun bled orange and violet across the horizon, casting long shadows over the valley, Fern clapped her hands. “Alright, my little sparks. Dinner will soon be served. Inside with you now. Wash your hands. Straighten your clothing.”
Other women called out to specific children, who rose and ran to them, disappearing inside houses or the manor.
Around Isi, a chorus of groans and pleas filled the air, but the children got up and began to drift toward the warm, welcoming light spilling from the windows.
Isi rose to her knees, holding Leo’s face. “You have to go eat, sweet boy, and I have to leave.”
He looked up at her. “Will you come back?”
She leaned in and kissed his forehead. “I promise I’ll come visit you again. Be brave for me, alright? And be good for Fern.”
A small, wobbly smile rose on his lips. “I will.” With one last squeeze, he pulled away and raced to catch up with the other children, the wooden bird trailing behind him through the air. At the manor door, he stopped, turning back to give her a wave before going inside.
Isi’s shoulders slumped. The strength that had held her together evaporated, leaving her fragile. The first tear that slid down her cheek crushed me. The second one severed my heart in two.
I didn’t ask her to tell me what was wrong.
I didn’t try to fix it with words. I just strode over and pulled her up and into my arms. I let her shatter against my chest, stroking her hair while she sobbed for the innocence her court had stolen from her.
She clung to the front of my tunic, her body shaking with cries that tore through me.
“I’ve got you,” I said into her hair, a tear trickling down my own face. “I’ve got you.”
And I did. I’d catch every broken piece of her and help her put herself back together stronger than before.
We flew back with dusk deepening around us and the wind a cold caress. I held Isi against my chest. Kyreth’s wings beat a steady rhythm as I rested my chin on the top of Isi’s head, wishing I could hold her like this forever.
Her tears soaked through my shirt, and I didn’t care. I’d let her cry oceans if it helped ease her pain. She burrowed closer, her face hidden as another shudder wracked her body.
Finally, she looked up at me, giving me a watery smile.
A new tension hummed through her. I could tell she’d moved aside grief for later and let her rage roar through.
“Leo told me about the reformatory,” she growled.
I tightened my hold, bracing myself.
“It isn’t a school, is it, Trew? It’s a prison. Leo said they hurt the children who can’t hide their magic. He talked about a room. Many of the children were taken there, and they never came back.”
I knew that. This was why we rescued them. But the rage that ignited my veins was so hot it was a miracle the air around us didn’t sizzle.
She shook her head, and new tears shimmered in her eyes. “‘Please don’t make me go back,’ Leo said. ‘I can’t go to that room.’”
The image of the little boy, terrified and begging not to be hurt made me want to commit murder. If I could burn down the reformatory, I would.
“Never,” I growled near her ear. “I will not let anyone hurt you or them. Do you hear me? Never.”
The trust in her eyes humbled me. “Promise me.”
“I swear on my crown, on my life, on everything I am. You’re safe with me. They’re all safe with me.”
She thanked me then, for stealing them, for saving them. For every child I’d rescued from her monstrous court.
Yet for every child I’d rescued, how many had I missed? How many had been lost to those rooms because I hadn’t been fast enough, strong enough, or ruthless enough to get to them all?
“It’s not your fault,” I whispered into her hair. “You didn’t know.”
“But I should have.” Her voice came out muffled against my chest. “I should’ve questioned it, demanded to see them—”
“You were lied to by the people you trusted. That’s on them, not you,” I said fiercely, because she needed to believe it, because the alternative was letting her carry a weight that would crush her spirit.
I wouldn’t allow that. Not while I drew breath.
“I want to rip it down,” she snarled. “Every last stone of that cursed system.” She pulled back enough to meet my gaze, her pale blue eyes blazing with fire. “When this is over, we burn it all.”
“Until nothing remains.”
I landed Kyreth back in the aerie as twilight painted the sky in bruises of purple and gray. The dragon let out a low rumble as I slid off her spine and helped Isi down.
Helena strode into the stall, her owl companion a silent, watchful shadow on her shoulder.
“She flew well,” I told her, patting the dragon’s snout. “Give her extra feed.”
“I will, Sire, plus a solid grooming.” Helena’s gaze glided to Isi, and a soft, understanding smile playing on her lips before she left to collect tools and grain.
Quiet filled our walk back to the castle.
I held Isi’s hand, our fingers linked. I couldn’t look away from her but kept taking in the way the last rays of sunlight caught the gold in her hair, the way resolve had settled into her spine.
Grief still lurked in her eyes, but a fury blazed there as well, one that matched my own.
She was no longer a princess of Caldrith come to infiltrate my court and kill me. She was a queen of Syllavar finding her power.
My queen.
Acknowledging this felt like finally sucking in air after holding my breath for sixteen years.
We stepped through the castle’s rear doors and strode through the halls, finally reaching the grand foyer, the marble floors gleaming under the enchanted torchlight. My world, for one perfect, fleeting moment, felt complete.