CHAPTER 4 TYCHO #2
There was a time when traveling with Emberish soldiers would’ve choked my heart with tension, but Grey is right— and Malin has more than proven himself.
After he helped save the king’s life, he earned a new stripe on his sleeve— and a host of new responsibilities to go with it.
I’ve hardly seen him since I got back, but we grew close in Syhl Shallow.
If I have to leave again, I wouldn’t mind his company.
But . . . Jax. Riding to Gaulter will mean an absence of nearly a week, if not longer. If I have to keep leaving, whatever has broken between us might never recover.
I wish Noah were here. I could desperately use his counsel. I wonder if he and Jake are returning with the army regiments from Syhl Shallow.
Not like it matters, if they’re sending me away for a week.
Rhen follows my gaze, and he looks out the window toward the Shield House. “Perhaps you should take Jax, too.”
My eyebrows shoot up, and my head snaps around.
Back at the beginning of the summer, Jax and I curled up in the hayloft on the night before I was ordered to depart.
We were tangled in some blankets spread over the hay, his eyes gleaming in the starlight.
His hands were so warm and his breath was so sweet and his heart seemed to beat in time with my own.
I whispered against his skin that I would be back in a matter of days.
And then I disappeared for months.
My heart gives a kick as I consider this. It pains me to admit it, but just now, I don’t even know if Jax would want to go.
I don’t even know if I want him to.
When I say nothing, Rhen adds, “Jax has also proven himself trustworthy— and he’s earned a chance to do more than swing a hammer in the forge. I don’t think he’s left the grounds since he joined the soldiers on that ill- fated trip to the creek.”
When half a regiment of drunk soldiers were attacked by scravers— and Jax was with them.
My jaw feels tight. When I tried to ask him about that, he brushed it off. I’ve heard a full report, however. Several soldiers were killed. The rest of them were close. If Jax hadn’t acted quickly, more would have died. He might have died. He has ragged scars across his chin from the attack.
Prince Rhen glances at the king, who says nothing. But Grey’s eyes are on me now. I wonder what he’s thinking.
I don’t like that this is what pulled him out of his morose reverie.
A familiar tension grips my spine, reminding me of the way we faced off on the training fields in Syhl Shallow.
We spent months at odds, and while we’ve moved past it in some ways, I know it wouldn’t take much for us to end up in the same place again.
Much like the weird tension between me and Jax, I don’t quite know what to do with this either. Maybe he feels the same, because he doesn’t say a word.
When we’re both silent for an eternity, Rhen sighs. “Silver hell. Find Malin, Tycho. Give him our orders, and have him select two others. Take Jax— or not. The choice is yours. You can leave at first light.”
Grey is still watching me. That tension refuses to let go. I don’t know if he’d see Jax as an asset— or a distraction. Like so many other moments between us, this feels like a test. I don’t want to fail.
When I say nothing, Grey’s eyebrows rise just a hair, and then he inhales with the weight of a commanding officer about to give an order. I brace myself, expecting him to take the choice away from me, and there’s a part of me that hopes he will— even though I’ll probably resent him for it.
But all he says is, “I think you’ve been dismissed.”
That hits me like a fist, but I was a soldier long enough to know how to keep a scowl off my face. I straighten, then give him a nod. “Yes, Your Majesty.” I nod to Rhen as well. “Your Highness.”
But as I move through the doorway, Grey’s voice calls me back. “Tycho.”
I stop and turn. For the first time all afternoon, his eyes are clear, and he truly seems to see me. “Be safe.”
It’s only two words, but both syllables carry the weight of unspoken emotion that’s different from before. It’s trust, it’s concern, it’s regard, it’s . . . something. A reminder that we might have been at odds, but we don’t have to be now.
So I nod again. “I will,” I say, and any edge has slipped out of my voice. “You too.”
And then I’m gone.
Months ago, I would have been galloping across the fields, desperate to bring these orders to the forge. When Prince Rhen first told me that Jax was invited to take residence here as a blacksmith, I could barely wait a single minute before I went to tell him.
But today, I let Mercy amble through the sunlit grass as I determine what to say.
Jax, I’ve been ordered to leave. Rhen wants you to join us.
That sounds like I don’t want him there— or like I’m only inviting him because I’ve been ordered to it. And Jax hates Rhen— he definitely won’t want to go if he knows the prince ordered it.
Jax. I’m going to Gaulter. Would you . . . like to join me?
That sounds like I’m inviting him to a lover’s tryst, not on a group mission to investigate treason.
I hate this.
Jax. I miss you.
I definitely can’t say that.
“Hey,” a voice calls from somewhere off to my left. “Tycho.”
I glance over to see a chestnut horse peeling away from a group of soldiers that look like they’re returning from patrol. As the rider canters toward me, I blink in the evening sunlight and recognize Malin’s compact frame and dark hair.
A smile forces its way onto my face, breaking through my exhausted tension. I lift a hand in greeting.
“Well, well, well,” I say as he draws close. I peer at the new insignia on his shoulder and whistle low, through my teeth. “Look at those stripes.”
“Shut up.” But I can tell he’s pleased.
“Remind me— are you a commander now?” I tease. “Wait. No. A general ?”
“I’m going to knock you off the horse.”
“That sure doesn’t sound like something an officer would say.”
He grins. “I’m going to get a recruit to knock you off the horse.”
That makes me laugh. “How is it, Captain ?”
“More work, but I can order Seph around now, so there’s that.”
Sephran— his best friend. Or at least he was before we went to Syhl Shallow. But I’ve noticed that Sephran and Jax grew close during our absence.
Very close.
The smile must fade from my face, because Mal’s gaze narrows a bit, as if he’s trying to figure me out. His voice, however, is neutral. “You’re in new gear yourself.” He nods at my armor.
“Yeah,” I say, though my new livery doesn’t bring the same joy as his new stripes.
For years, I wore the black of Syhl Shallow, and my armor was trimmed in silver and green.
The breastplate was emblazoned with the crests of both countries, indicating my allegiance to both. Grey’s own armor was similar.
But three days after we returned, the king showed up in the arena with a new breastplate.
Still black, but no green, no silver. One small crest over his heart, backed with the gold and red of Emberfall alone.
I opened my mouth, but he held up a hand and said, “Go see the armorer. Yours is ready, too.”
His tone was so gruff that I didn’t say a word. Once I got my gear, I understood. Donning the new armor felt very final. As if the division between our countries is permanent.
“Where were you headed?” Malin says.
“To look for you, actually. We’ve been given new orders.” I tell him what Rhen and Grey said, and the reason we’re being sent to Gaulter. “He said for you to choose two soldiers to join us.”
“He’s worried about scravers.”
“He is.” I hesitate, wondering how this will go over. “Prince Rhen told me to bring Jax, too.”
Malin’s eyebrows go up, but then he grins. “I’m sure you weren’t complaining.”
Weeks ago, that would’ve made me blush and stumble over my words. Right now, my smile vanishes.
A line appears across Malin’s brow as he studies me like before. He’s always been perceptive, and I sense I’m giving away too much. I wonder what he sees.
He finally speaks into my silence. “Well, if he’s going, I’ll pick Seph for sure. He’s solid, and they get on well.”
That doesn’t help. Now I’m trying not to frown. Mal told me so many stories about Sephran that I thought we’d return from Syhl Shallow and we’d all become friends. He spoke with such fondness that I began to long for it.
But every time I see Sephran, his expression is unfriendly, his eyes ice cold as he regards me.
He’s polite, but it’s a distant politeness, as if I’ve offended him somehow— which I can’t figure out.
Does he resent my position? I’ve encountered that before .
. . though he seemed friendly enough when I first met him.
The change is only since I returned to Ironrose.
Could he be bothered by my friendship with Malin?
I have no idea what to say, but I have to say something, or my lengthy silence is going to turn awkward. “Whoever you think is best,” I say flatly, though I have no idea if I really mean that. I press my heels into Mercy. “I’m heading for the forge to tell Jax next.”
Malin nods, then steers his horse to fall in step beside me. “I’ll join you.”
But as he does, Mercy slows, sensing my trepidation.
I give her another nudge, because I don’t want Malin to pick up on it.
“No,” I say. I still have no idea how to extend this invitation.
I definitely don’t want to do it with Malin at my back.
That feels too official. “You should head for the barracks and make your other choice. Have them pack up and see to their unit commanders. The king intends for us to leave by first light.”
His eyebrows go up again, and I realize my tone has lost any hint of lighthearted banter. But Malin is a good soldier, and there’s a reason he earned a new stripe on his sleeve.
“Yes, sir,” he says sharply. Without another word, he gives me a salute, then whirls his horse to head south, toward the barracks.
Leaving me on my solitary path to the forge.