29. A Plan, Sort Of
A Plan, Sort Of
Darien
The late evening droned on as Darien followed Anara’s feathered shape in the sky, yet his soul still warred within him.
The Norn returned the wrong son.
Shame so potent it was nearly physical burned his skin, and underneath that was the lingering fear that his father’s forgiveness had run dry.
Perhaps this decision would be the final blow to their already shattered relationship.
With every mile Darien drove further from Perle, the guilt settled more deeply in his stomach.
He could hear his father railing at him for abandoning his people because of Lovisa.
His father would never understand that it was only in watching Larissa rally her people that Darien had realized his own desire to champion his people.
His father’s impossible standards would never have convinced him of Safír’s need, but Larissa’s example and selflessness had.
Ever since Larissa had reclaimed Perle, Darien had dreamed of Safír, of her sandy beaches and sparkling horizons.
The smell of the Safírian ocean shoreline wafted through his memories, stirring his longing to turn around and drive straight home.
He could nearly taste the whitebait fish he and his mother would fry on lazy days.
Fond memories mingled with the plans he had for Safír’s future.
Darien would reclaim his commonwealth and restore it to the kingdom it once was.
Then he would stand at the cliffside upon which his palace stood and watch the waves crash against the rocks below, letting the sound of the ocean fill him with peace.
His father would stand beside him, finally pleased, maybe even settle his hand on Darien’s shoulder and look at him the same way he’d look at Aeron. With pride, instead of displeasure.
So strong was the image in his mind that Darien could nearly smell the salt of the shoreline that lay miles away.
In the passenger seat, Larissa shifted in her sleep, drawing Darien back to the present.
She’d shoved her jacket up against the window as a makeshift pillow, muttering something about asking the Norn for directions.
Strands of white hair fluttered in her soft exhales.
The vulnerability in her face was enough to undermine Darien’s composure.
He understood now what she meant about no distractions, about how their focus needed to be on their people.
He even agreed to a certain extent, yet here he was, driving away from his kingdom.
For her.
He reminded himself there was no point in reclaiming any of the commonwealths if they could not ultimately overthrow Shiko. But that was only part of Darien’s reasoning.
Life had been easier when he’d only cared about Larissa, when the fate of his people hadn’t rested on his shoulders.
He’d been so shielded by Aeron’s presence, who thrived under the weight of their father’s expectations.
Darien nearly wished that Aeron was there but recanted the thought immediately.
There was no Aeron, only Calder, and the longer Calder believed they were in Perle, the safer they would remain.
Calder . His blood simmered at the thought of the brother his father wished he would be.
Darien’s fingers tightened around the wheel as he forced his foot to hold even on the gas.
It would do no good to take out his frustrations on Helga.
The old girl probably would break down in protest. Plus, any sudden increase in speed was sure to rock Halla and Kai where they sat in the bed of the truck.
Larissa stirred, muttering incomprehensibly in her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open and caught Darien staring at her. Even with her hair plastered to one side of her face, she looked beautiful.
She stretched, cracking her neck. “How long was I asleep?”
“A couple of hours. The Norn have anything to say?”
Larissa nodded. “She told me to speak with Kiah.”
Darien blew out a sharp breath. “Kiah’s alive?”
Older than the other royal offspring of their generation, Princess Kiah of the Smaragd kingdom hadn’t truly been a part of their intimate group, but she’d been friendly enough.
Kiah had been expecting her first child just as Shiko plunged their nation into war.
It was Kiah who had written to Aeron begging for assistance in the Smaragd kingdom.
When word had come that Aeron was dead due to Smaragd’s surrender, Darien had always assumed that Shiko had killed Kiah and her unborn child as well. It appeared he was wrong.
“Vereandi said Kiah can show us how to reach her.”
“Do you think Anara knew that Kiah was alive?” Darien asked.
“Let’s find out.”
Darien honked the horn loudly enough for Anara to notice, then pulled the truck over, noticing that the trees around him had grown thicker and larger. They must be nearing the Myrkvier Forest, which marked the border between Perle and Smaragd.
Banging resounded against the cab’s ceiling, and Halla’s voice came through the open window from the truck bed. “Are we stopping here?”
Larissa leaned out the passenger window. “Not yet, sit tight!”
Anara glided down, shifting in midair and landing on her feet beside the driver’s open window.
Darien wasted no time. “You knew Kiah was alive?”
As they always did when discussing Smaragd, Anara’s lips tightened. “Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell us?” Larissa asked.
“There’s been a lot going on; it didn’t matter that the coward princess survived.”
Larissa sighed in exasperation. “Well, it matters now. The Norn want us to see her.”
Anara swore. “You can’t be serious. It’s bad enough to go to Smaragd at all—Shiko’s sentries will be everywhere. But to go into the heart of the city itself?” She rubbed at her temple. “The gods and their games.”
“Why though?” Darien asked. “Do they want us to get caught?”
“It would make their game more interesting, wouldn’t it? But no.” Anara sighed. “The Myrkvier Forest has always had its connections to the Norn, and no one knows these trees better than Kiah. It’s only . . .”
“What?” Darien prompted as Anara’s voice drifted.
“Vereandi visited my dreams the night before we took back Perle.”
“That’s why you weren’t surprised when I told you we had to go to Smaragd,” Larissa interrupted.
“Right, but in my dreams, she said to trust him , not her.”
“Him who?” Darien asked.
Anara growled. “If I knew, we wouldn’t be having this conversation; I’d have already found him and gotten my answers. We’ll start with Kiah and figure it out from there.”
“But how are we going to speak with her?” Larissa asked. “We don’t even know where she is. What if she’s in prison? Finding her could take days.”
“No, it won’t.” Anara hesitated. “She’s the Regent of Smaragd.”
“What?” The word escaped Darien’s lips before he could pull it back. The last he’d heard, Shiko had slaughtered the entire Smaragdian royal bloodline.
Anara’s fingers rubbed slow circles in her temples. “Look, let’s find a place to stop tonight and figure out our plan. We can’t just stay parked on the side of the main road. That’s asking for trouble.”
With a flurry of feathers, Anara was gone, circling back in the sky.
“Do you ever get the feeling that Anara doesn’t like the Smaragdians?” Darien asked in mock innocence.
“What gave it away? Her look of disgust whenever they’re mentioned?” Larissa answered in similar faked curiosity.
“I was thinking more about how she calls them cowardly every chance she gets.”
Larissa’s head fell back against the headrest. “This is just going to make it more complicated.”
The pressure built behind Darien’s eyes as he pulled onto the darkening road.
It wasn’t just the sun’s descent that affected the light, but also the thick forest around them.
Growing up, Darien had heard the stories of Myrkvier Forest. Every mythical creature had its origins in the forest’s soil and its birthplace in the Gadofass Falls.
It was said that the very trees, rocks, and animals all emanated their own vaettir , or spirit.
One could never be too careful around still bodies of water or silent trees.
While the loud trees were joyous, the quiet trees were angry.
“Myrkvier Forest,” Larissa muttered, wrapping her arms around her chest as she shifted away from the window.
“Sure, you can decapitate a draugr but you’re scared of a few ghost stories.”
Larissa rolled her eyes. “Like the forest doesn’t give you the creeps.”
Darien laughed, but he had to admit, there was something about the trees that unsettled him. Like an internal alarm alerting him to some danger that never came. “I’m sure Halla is loving this.”
Larissa groaned. “She’s still bitter she missed the home of the Jotnar.”
“We’ll take her back to the valley, after all this is over.”
Larissa stilled, and Darien realized a moment too late why.
We’ll .
The word held the implications of a future they might not have.
After a moment of silence, she asked, “Are we doing the right thing?”
Going to Smaragd? Leaving Perle? Suppressing their feelings for one another?
Darien wasn’t sure which she meant. He took the safest option.
“The Norn know the prophecy. Your people are safe with General Soren, and we’ll return to my people soon.
We can’t help them if we don’t know what we’re up against. Knowledge is power. ”
She pulled her knees up to her chest. “I know; you’re right.”
“Tell me a story.”
As Darien had intended, shock chased the melancholy from Larissa’s face. “What?”
“You always knew the best stories when we were kids. I’ve been driving all day, and I need help staying awake.”
She crossed her arms and smirked. “The constant threat of capture and execution doesn’t do the trick for you?”
He grinned for a second and shrugged. “After so long, it becomes the same-old-same-old. Come on, Lov, please?”
She softened, as she always did when he used her old nickname. “You know all of my stories.”
“What about something Dal taught you?”