Chapter 28 #2
When the last cry fell away, Jack stepped forward.
The pyre towered before him, logs stacked, bodies bound with ropes and adorned in frostsage, icefern, and juniper, their weapons laid gently over their sternums. He lifted his free hand and traced the three points—brow, heart, lips. The guard followed in reverent silence.
Then, in a voice that spoke of his royal lineage, he offered the rite.
“Náldrún, Lord of the Veiled Realm, keeper of the souls of the dead… Receive these warriors into your halls. Let their courage echo through your darkened gates, their names carved in the bones of your throne. May they find rest in your shadow, and honor in your cold embrace.” He stepped back and lowered the torch.
The moment fire touched kindling, the pyre roared to life. Flames leapt into the morning sky like spirits freed from flesh. Ash and smoke curled upward, taking with them the last traces of the warriors we’d lost.
Around us, silence reigned. A few whispered farewells while others bowed their heads, lips unmoving, eyes glassed with unshed tears. The firelight danced across armor and faces alike, reflections of grief, of the oath each of us now carried in our blood.
After the soldiers dispersed, and the camp resumed packing up the remainder of our supplies, I reached for Astrid’s arm before she could walk away. “Lieutenant, wait,” I said, my voice thick. “I…I want you to be my second.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I need someone I can trust, someone I know can keep these guards in line in my absence. Someone who would never leave a soldier behind.”
For a moment, Astrid said nothing. Then she blinked hard, as if trying not to tear up. “You’re serious?”
I nodded.
She let out a shaky breath. “Gods, Captain. I’d be honored.”
I clasped her shoulder. “Good. Because I’m ready to put you to work.”
Her shoulders squared back, the pyre’s dying flames flickering in her blue-green eyes and reflecting off the metal clasps in her long blonde braids. “Ready for your orders.”
“Once we’re back on the pass, keep the perimeter scouts within visible range,” I said, my gaze fixed on the distant mountain peak visible above Jack’s still-erected frost wall.
“We’ll be crossing uneven ridgelines and deep, forested cuts before we reach Thrymgard.
That kind of terrain is perfect for an ambush, and I’m not taking chances. ”
Astrid shifted on her feet, nodding in agreement.
“Rotate the ridge posts every thirty minutes—no one stays exposed longer than that. I want eyes on all four sides of the convoy, and flanking riders staggered in a loose arc. If anything shifts in the trees, I want a warning before we have to draw steel.”
“Understood. And the supply wagons?” she asked, already scanning the camp.
“Keep them centered in the formation,” I said. “Stagger two guards at each rear wheel and another two on the driver bench. We’ll need to stay flexible, so the lighter carts should ride closer to the front. We may have to move fast if the path ahead narrows.”
Astrid nodded. “Archers?”
“Every third rider on the outer edge should carry a bow and a full quiver,” I replied. “No excuses, no exceptions. If anyone’s blade isn’t sharp enough to slice a frost bloom, I want it replaced by the time we mount up.”
We both looked to the pale morning horizon. Smoke curled from the funeral pyre, the sky a wash of rose and gold. Somewhere in the trees, a raven called out.
“Lastly,” I said, softer but no less serious, “if anything feels wrong—off balance, off rhythm, off scent—I want to know before the hairs on my neck rise. We don’t get caught off guard again. Not while I’m leading.”
Astrid smirked, that familiar fire in her eyes gleaming. “Yes, Captain.”
I headed back to the pavilion to ensure all my things were packed in my trunk before the attendants put it in the wagon, and as I draped my cloak over my shoulders and stuck my hands in the pocket, I realized I’d forgotten all about Leoric’s letter.
I pulled the parchment out, brushing a finger over the wax seal.
My breath hitched, unsure if I should even read the letter—I knew how Leoric felt about me.
My heart was still too heavy from what had happened between Jack and me, but at the same time, I couldn’t ignore the warmth in my chest as I remembered my night at the tavern before everything happened.
Leoric had made me feel like someone new, like someone who, for a short breath, believed I deserved more. Cracking the seal open, I unfolded the letter.
My dearest Sylvi,
Forgive me the indulgence of this letter, but I find myself unable to keep my silence any longer.
It has taken all the restraint my station affords not to barge into the palace and demand to see you.
News of what befell you reached me far too late, and only then through whispers and secondhand accounts.
I blame myself. Had I insisted on walking you home that night, as I should have, perhaps none of this would have happened.
The thought has haunted me every hour since.
Seeing you again stirred something I thought long buried. And though our time was brief, it reminded me of all the reasons your absence had lingered so heavily. You are not easily forgotten, Sylvi. Nor should you be.
I do not presume to know the shape of your heart, nor would I ever lay claim to it uninvited.
But near losing you has clarified the ache I have long carried.
I would be a fool to keep pretending it doesn’t exist. There is so much I wish to say, and more still I wish to learn from you, with you.
If the queen permits, I hope to see you again soon.
Should your heart remain closed to love, know that mine still hopes, not for possession, but for the privilege of your friendship. Whatever you are willing to give, I will treasure.
May the gods keep you safe until fate allows our paths to cross once more.
Yours truly,
Leoric
I had barely finished the last line when Jack burst into the tent, startling me. My heart jumped to my throat as I scrambled to fold the letter, to make myself appear composed, unreadable, but I wasn’t fast enough.
He froze mid-stride, tension snapping through his frame like a drawn bowstring pulled taut, his gaze flicking to the edge of the parchment still visible as I shoved it into my pocket.
His throat worked, once then twice, chest rising in a slow, heavy breath, those wintry eyes dimming with unspoken thoughts. Then, as if he hadn’t just caught me reading Leoric’s letter, he said, “I…I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
He moved past me, jaw locked, the scent of snow and leather clinging to him like mist. He crossed to the far side of the pavilion, fiddling with a pair of rings he’d left beside the bed, searching for a phantom task, some excuse not to look at me.
“I was just…checking that all my things were packed,” he added, voice distant.
“No need to apologize,” I said tightly. “The pavilion is yours.”
He slipped the rings onto his fingers. “It’s yours now. Use it as you please.”
“Thank you. But moving forward, I’ll be sleeping with the rest of the guard.”
His shoulders and back went rigid, eyes assessing me for too long a breath. For the first time since I’d known him, I couldn’t read his mind, couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.
Gods, Jack. Just talk to me…
He gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Very well. As you wish, Captain.”
As he turned to leave, all clipped movements and false calm, I reached for his arm. “Jack, stop.”
He did, but only barely. His body remained turned away, a muscle in his jaw ticking with fury.
“Is this how it’s going to be now?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady. “Us pretending like nothing happened?”
“Sylvi…” His voice was tight, strained. “Please. Don’t make this harder. For either of us.”
I swallowed hard. “What about our friendship? All the years—”
His head bowed slightly. “Syl, you will always be my best friend. That’s the one truth that will never change. But right now…” His voice faltered, barely audible. “Right now, I think it’s best we stick to the roles our kingdom—our duty to the realm—demands.”
My fingers unfurled from his arm, and he left the pavilion without even a glance back.